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Today I put daisies by his cross.

Hopping off my golf cart I push back the plastic flap that keeps the AC in after reaching behind me for the small bouquet I made from flowers grown in my mother's nursery.

I gingerly set the flowers down resting them against the wooden symbol and then step back to observe the small site. There's a barely burnt yankee candle pushed against the cross, which to me seems like a fire hazard, but that's not my problem, and a dollar store beanie baby that's been soaked through by the recent summer rains. I poke it with my sneaker and dirty water oozes out.

Brushing the tip of my dirty shoe off on the tire of my golf cart, I look a ways down the street until I spot the dented street sign and newly painted fire hydrant. I strain my eyes to count 20 candles, 10 bouquets, 12 stuffed animals, and 2 damp picture frames which I assume preserve the faces that have been haunting my dreams.

I wonder what makes them worth 12 stuffed animals and what makes the man who's memorial stands next to me only worth one.

I hop back into the cart and run my fingers through my hair before resting my head on my hands which grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

I take a moment to breathe.

When I hear the sound of a biker approaching behind me I reluctantly stick my keys into the ignition and turn them. Instantly I feel cold air wash over me bringing sweet relief from the smoldering Florida sun. I resume my drive once more down the sidewalk and pass the mountain of remembrances, the hydrant, and then the slouching sign.

I keep my eyes straight ahead as I pass, but in my periphery I still spot a familiar framed face, so I close my eyes and count to ten pressing my foot down on the gas a little harder.

When I open my eyes again my vision is blurred. I blink rapidly to clear it and feel a drop of liquid run down my cheek. I tell myself it's a bead of sweat and nothing more, even though goosebumps have already begun to form on my forearms from the frigid air.

Here's to 120 days of being reminded of that night.

~•~•~•~•~•~

When I get to Lakeside Living I'm 10 minutes early, so I decide to sit in my ride for a little while longer. That is until out of the corner of my eye I see a kid on a bike pull up and stop beside me.

"Nice whip."

I groan. Of course the cyclist had to be Lucas.

I lazily turn my head to look at the beanstalk of a 13-year-old. "Says the boy straddling a Schwinn."

He takes off his helmet and shakes out his blonde sun kissed surfer waves. "I'll have you know this baby is the Rolls Royce of bikes." He kicks the front tire of my transport, his bike tilting with his body. "That's not even the Hundai of golf carts."

"Dear Lord give me strength," I mumble under my breath while twisting and yanking the keys from ignition. I slap the clear cover open and it flicks Lucas in the side. I hop out quickly and make my away around him, speed walking through the little metal gate and down the sidewalk.

"Hey man," I hear Lucas call as he rushes to let his kick stand down and lock his bike to the chain link fence, "wait up! I'll walk in with you!"

"Oh no that's-" I begin to call back with a dismissive wave of the back of my hand, but then I feel a shoulder bump into my side and look down to see the tween fall into stride beside me, "-okay," I finish lowering my hand to my side. He shoots me a quick shaka as we silently make our short journey to the entrance of the nursing home.

I go to reach for the handle of the double doors but before my fingers can grasp it, they begin to open on their own. I jump back expecting someone to step out from the inside, but no one does. I turn to my side to shoot Lucas a confused look but instead pinch the bridge of my nose in annoyance as I see the young surfer giving the metallic handicapped button the old one-two that's attached to the peach colored wall.

He gives it one more hit before realizing the doors have fully opened and comes to stand beside me once again. "Well come on," he says, "we're gonna be late if you just keep standing there." He slaps me on the shoulder but I don't budge. Nine years of football practices have done me well and as I follow behind Lucas into the lobby I see him shake his hand and then discreetly cradle it in the other.

I shake my head and look up to the ceiling in disbelief. Of all the people from Revision it had to be Lucas who got my same assignment. The universe must have a sick sense of humor.

Lucas makes it to the check-in desk before I do and signs us both in. We're given name tags by the receptionist as well as a small map of the facility. With a kind smile she instructs is to go down the hall to the left and enter the fourth door on the right. Once there we would be able to sit and wait with the others enrolled in the program for Marcella to explain to us more about what it is we would be doing these next four months.

I kindly thank the woman, unlike Lucas who just shoots her a mischievous wink and a finger gun, before I make my way down the hall. I smack Lucas in the back of his head with my map when we've turned the corner. "Next time thank the woman," I emphasize for good measure, "with your words and not your sorry excuse for flirting."

Lucas rubs his head before shooting me an annoyed look. "Whatever Ez," he retorts using the unfortunate nickname he bestowed upon me the day we met at the group home, "you're just jealous of my game."

I snort in response. "Whatever kid," I fire back knowing full well that he hates being called that. I give him a playful shove as our destination comes into view.

~•~•~•~•~•~

Even though Lucas is a master at getting on my nerves, I couldn't help but love the kid anyways, and that irked me more than his antics did.

Lucas had already been living at Revision for three months before I arrived and became his roommate.

From day one the kid latched onto me, for what reasons I still didn't know, but for the next four months he had made it his mission to get me to like him.

At first he tried being exuberantly friendly. Each night, when our schedules would align, I'd be laying in bed trying to sleep and he'd be blabbing on and on about some stupid story he thought was hilarious or exciting or even remotely interesting. He'd talk until he fell asleep and then as soon as my eyes opened the next morning he'd start blabbing on about a whole new story.

When that didn't get the reaction he wanted out of me he started asking me a bunch a questions and wouldn't stop until I answered them. I didn't mind this all that much since I actually got some input into the conversation. I could tell though with each answer from my end Lucas gained more hope in an eventual friendship.

But one night he'd asked the question I knew he'd been dying to: why was I there. That was the last day I played the game, and the first question I refused to answer.

By the last day of his stay everyone at the home had practically fallen in love with him, except for me. I couldn't wait for him to leave, because his last attempt at gaining my approval was to follow me around and try to do everything I did from the time the sun rose until it set.

The evening he left I laid in bed for the first night alone. I thought the quiet would be comforting, peaceful, but instead it was suffocating. Without Lucas' ramblings I was left to mull over my own thoughts, and memories, and stories. Many of which I'd been trying so hard to avoid.

I cried that night for the first time since I got there.

I wished more than anything to hear Lucas' voice from across the room tell me about the time his swim trunks fell down in front of his entire surf camp or how he and his best friends re-enacted the Jingle Bell Rock scene from Mean Girls for their eighth grade talent show.

I realized the next morning he was also the closest thing I had to a friend there.

~•~•~•~•~•~

"Oh well aren't you a handsome one!" I hear an elderly woman comment pulling me out of my trance. Her large greying curls frame her tanned wrinkled face. Her eyes hold a permanent mischievous sparkle. She has one hand on her hip and the other grasps a red bedazzled cane. She's donning a bright orange shirt under a thin jean jacket and evergreen corduroy pants.

"Thanks," I hear Lucas say with confidence beside me. We were stopped just outside the doorway of our destination.

"Oh well you certainly are a cutie too, don't get me wrong, but a little to young for this old broad."

"And I'm not?" I question raising my eyebrow at the woman.

"Name tag says your 19 doesn't it," she winks poking the sticker on my chest. "If that's old enough for the law, that's old enough for me sugar."

My jaw drops slightly open in shock. I couldn't believe I was really being hit on by an 80-year-old geriatric.

"Gloria Thompson! What have I told you about flirting with my volunteers?" The young woman's voice comes from behind and Lucas and I instantly swivel our heads in its direction.

A girl in her late teens maybe early twenties tops struts towards us. Her footsteps make no noise as the only thing covering her feet are fuzzy rainbow socks. They're a sharp contrast to her tight khaki pants and black and grey oversized cardigan that drapes over her shoulders concealing most of her white tank top. A cheeky smile forms on her face as she shakes her head causing her raven curls to sway with the movement.

She moves past Lucas and I without even a glance and slings her arm around Gloria giving her a serious look.

Gloria returns her serious glare. "To at least let you take a crack at it before I steal all the good men away."

The elderly woman laughs while the girl rolls her eyes.

She chuckles, "That's an interesting interpretation of the words: 'don't ever do it again' and 'you're scaring them away.'"

Gloria huffs. "You know I'm only teasing 'em," she chuckles. "This place has been turning you into a real buzzkill Marci," Gloria turns away now and starts walking down the hall away from our triad, "a real buzzkill," she yells shaking her finger in the air. But before the old woman turns the corner she whips her head back around to give the chuckling girl a wink with a cheeky smile on her lips. She shoots us a quick finger gun before finally disappearing from sight.

I feel Lucas smack me in the bicep. I look down to see the boy gesture to where the old woman once was and give me a see I'm not the only one look, referring to her last gesture.

I give him an are you serious glare back my eyes squinting with a shake of my head.

I hear Marci clear her throat and I turn to look at her.

"Sorry 'bout that," she says with a warm smile. "Glory didn't scare you away from Lakeside did she?"

"Nah," Lucas reassures her, "you can still count on Ez and I as volunteers."

"Not like we have much say in the matter anyways," I admit under my breathe looking towards the floor.

Marci hums in understanding. "You two must be the boys from Revision."

I lift my eyes to meet hers now and prepare to see the same expression of judgement that comes with any mention of that place, but instead I see her face soften.

"You don't have to tell me if I'm right or not. But if I am, I'm just as happy to have you here as I am with everyone else in there," she points to the open door beside her whose room is lined with foldable grey chairs and a table with an assortment of refreshments. "I hope y'all will end up enjoying your four months here."

I give her an uncertain grimace.

"Well, if I get to follow around someone as gorgeous as you for the next few months, I'll have no problem enjoying myself."

I mentally facepalm myself at Lucas' comment.

I watch as Marci's eyes widen at the unexpected flirtation. But then she laughs as she looks down at his name tag. "Lucas huh," she smirks, "I gotta feeling we're gonna get along just fine." Then she turns to me. "You I'm still undecided about. I've yet to see you smile."

"He doesn't do that a lot," Lucas pipes up from beside me covering his mouth from my view with his hand as if they're sharing a secret, "trust me."

I scowl and smack Lucas in the back of the head for the second time this morning.

I turn back to look at Marci who's trying to suppress her laughter. Her gaze finally leaves a blushing Lucas and our eyes meet. I open my mouth to defend myself but I'm cut off by a middle-aged man popping his head through the door way with a clipboard in his hand.

"Marcella if I'm not mistaken your meeting was supposed to begin five minutes ago." He shoves a clipboard roughly into her hands. "So if you and your friends are done socializing, I'd love for you to actually start doing what I pay you to do."

She rests her clipboard on her hip and turns to look at the man, clearly annoyed. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Richard," she says pointedly, "I'll be there in a second. And for the record you don't actually pay me to do anything. It's your father who owns the company, is it not?"

The man's lips press into a thin line. "Only for so long Lovelace, then this place is mine, and you're out of here."

They have a stare off as Richard walks out into the hall. I'm watching you he mouths before turning on his heel and making his way to the lobby.

Marci rolls her eyes but that original warm smile returns to her face only seconds after. "Sorry 'bout him," she apologizes again. "He's right about the five minutes thing though. I really do need to start the meeting." She walks through the doorway as we follow. "It was nice to meet you two. Hopefully we'll be seeing more of each other." She looks at Lucas when she says this and then finally at me. Her smile falters slightly when I don't return one back.

She nods before walking to the front of the room. "Good morning everyone," I hear her greet the minute crowd of homeschoolers, high-school seniors vying for last minute service hours, and random do-gooders. Lucas and I walk along the side of the room looking for an open seat. I find one on the end of a filled row and sit down.

I expect Lucas to take the hint and go sit somewhere preferably not by me, but instead moments later I hear the ear piercing sound of metal being dragged against tiled floor as he brings a chair from the back row and places it next to mine.

I slouch down in my seat placing my face in my hand. Lucas offers a few rushed apologies before I hear Marci continue her speech. "Now that everyone's awake," she chuckles, "let me tell you all what to expect from your summer spent here at Lakeside."

I keep my eyes glued to the floor. I already knew what to expect from my time here and I wasn't looking forward to it.

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Hey y'all! First chapter of Mourning Glory done! Yay! Hope y'all like it :) I've been slowly working on it for a little while as I've been writing Fight of Desire (who's next chapter will be coming out this weekend).

Thought I would publish the first chapter as a little preview. What do y'all think of the characters so far?

Thank you for every read, comment, and vote! I appreciate you all!

<3 Anne