Jacob smiles ruefully, tossing his head back to keep his waves out of his eyes. His hair is getting long again and I'm struck by the fact that I didn't realize this was possible in heaven. That his hair would grow. I say as much and he laughs bitterly.
This isn't heaven, pigalet.
I ignore that, because I know, and we don't talk about how I fail to release him, ever, because here he is closer. Here, I might get him back with a lick and a miracle.
What was the tequila for?
I hate it when they fight.
And the tequila helped end the fight?
Of course not.
Then you don't need it, Bridget.
Maybe I wanted it, Jake.
Don't use that stuff, princess.
Then come back and I won't have to.
I would if I could.
(hear that? That was the sound of my broken heart clattered down out of the cords and into the bottom of my soul again. THANKS A LOT, JAKE.)
How is Ben?
I'm fine, preacher.
Took you long enough to carry this through.
I had to do it my own way. I thought it would work but you were right.
Jake smiles, not in a superior way, just in a glad-it-all-worked-out way.
And Lochlan?
Angry.
I don't doubt it. Caleb?
You gotta ask, preacherman?
Bridget? How are you with all of this?
I don't know, Jake. Why don't you all ask each other how I am? Isn't that the way this works?
You're full of it this morning, princess.
It's temporary, Jake. Ben, not to be difficult but you make decisions and stick with them until the wind blows.
I stuck with you, didn't I?
That wasn't a choice, Benjamin, it was an inevitability.
Ben grins and sticks his tongue out at me to dissipate my sudden, unwarranted attitude. I melt and I can feel pieces of my heart climbing back up my insides and tack-welding themselves back together. It hurts and I wrap my arms around myself just in case I pass out. I hate it when he's disarmingly smug. It usually means it's followed by some wonderfully sweet moment that invariably finishes me where I stand.
I am not disappointed.
We stand there and smile at each other.
What a goof.
