As I expected, Grams is perched on the sofa, waiting for me to come home. Her knitting is in her lap, but so are her needles, her fingers nervously knotting and unknotting again and again instead of the yarn.

I check my phone and sigh. I would've only been just leaving the center now anyways. She must have been worried from the moment I went to work this morning.

I spent awhile sitting by the cross. People do that, when someone they love dies, sometimes. They visit their grave, the site of their accident even. Anything to feel closer to them.

Casey has a nice headstone back home. Mom and Dad paid a lot for it. Casey Anderson, son, brother, friend, it says.

But it's in a cemetery he'd never even visited. Not once when he was alive.

If his spirit is anywhere... it's not there.

Silently, I make my way into the kitchen and turn the oven on to start dinner. I prepared a pot pie this morning when I couldn't sleep. Maybe that's why Grams is anxious about me - she must've overheard me awake too early.

Standing before the fridge, I freeze, catching my reflection.

I don't feel Casey at the cross, either.

I grip the countertop so hard my knuckles turn white.

The horrifying, terrifying truth is... I don't feel Casey anywhere anymore. I think about him all the time, I swear to God it's like I even see him sometimes... But I'm always left with the empty feeling of his absence. I don't feel him - just the hole that he's left.

"Dylan?"

Grams voice makes me jump. Plastering something like a smile over my face, I turn slowly, reminding myself to unclench my fists.

"What's up, Grams?"

"I thought I heard you moving about this morning. You look tired." She settles into her chair at the table and I join her, but say nothing. "Your mother told me about your nightmares, you know."

"Of course she did." I sigh, pressing my hands to my sore eyes.

"You can talk to me."

I say nothing, staring at her, wanting to give her something, some reassurances, anything, but unable to do so. God, how I wish I could.

"Dylan..." Her lips turn down.

I don't like her tone. I know I won't like what comes next.

"Dylan, I think it's time to think about getting some help."

Grams places her wrinkly hand on my forearm at the same time as my head begins to shake.

Help? I don't need help. I tried for a little, a counselor on campus, because Mom insisted.

I learned that I don't need someone who has no idea what it felt like to lose Casey telling me how to move on from him.

"Dylan?" Grams voice sounds far away.

A knock at the door saves me from having to say anything at all. I rush to answer it, the disappointment falling over me immediately as the door swings open.

"Luke." It hurts even more to see him so close to Case's birthday.

"Dylan." He sticks his head inside, even though I don't back up. He smells like shampoo. "Hi, June."

"Why're you here?" I hear Grams suck her teeth behind me.

"Well," Before Luke can finish, Finn has popped out from behind his legs, holding up a very damp and heavy sheet of craft paper. "Finn wanted to give you something from the center today."

My throat tightens as I take the painting, admiring the three stick figures, all holding fish in their hands. I've gotten rather good at interpreting their illustrations, and I know this is meant to be Luke, Finn, and me, on our fishing trip.

"Because you're feeling a little bit sad today." Finn says, a small dimple creasing his cheek as he peers up at me.

Instinctually, I pull him to my chest and hold him tight, clenching my eyes closed so the tears can't escape.

When I finally let him go, he giggles before looking up to his uncle.

Standing, I meet Luke's gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. His eyes look like mine, sad and tired, and I know he knows.

It's too much for me to deal with. I hate it.

"Listen, Dyl." He begins and I'm already shaking my head. "I know this time of the year is hard, if you ever need someone to talk to-"

Raising a hand, I cut him off. "If I ever do want to talk to someone about it, Luke, believe me, you will be the last person that I go to."

The words are like venom, tasting sour even as I say them, but I just need to be left alone. From everyone, but especially from him.

He's just... too much of a reminder.

His face falls, but he makes no snarky remark back to me. He simply shrugs, grabbing Finn's hand and offering a tight-lipped grin.

"Let's go, bud."

When they're gone and the door is closed, Grams addresses me from the kitchen.

"Dylan Grace, your parents did not raise rude children."

I turn to her, her hair a frayed mess around her head, so sweet in her floral nightgown, but so angry with me. I hate her being so angry with me.

"And more than that," Grams grabs my wrist as I sit beside her again, "You are happier after you've spent time with Luke. I can see it. You feel it. But you make it so difficult."

Her disappointment in me hurts. Staring at her fingers, I speak slowly.

"Grams, it's not just about the accident, with Luke. That's a big part of it - I'm still so mad. And seeing him just hits too close." I shake my head and gnaw my bottom lip, "But I can't forgive Luke for... other things, too."

Grams raises her brows, waiting patiently.

"Grams, he cheated on me." My face gets hot. I still feel so humiliated.

"He what?" She gasps.

"With Maya." I confirm, watching her features transform from confusion to betrayal to anger in a matter of seconds.

She opens her mouth and closes it. Then, "I didn't know. Obviously Luke didn't tell me that."

Obviously. I hold back an eye roll.

"But now I have." I stand and put the pot pie into the oven, setting the timer accordingly. "So now I think we can all agree... My attitude towards Luke Henson is completely justifiable."

... is it though?
dun dun duh'
what do you think?!
more soon!!