I was running on emptyThe knock came softly. I barely heard it for the rain and the cracking fire. It came again and then I knew I had heard something. I go to the door and crack it slightly.
I was feeling so low
When you made me a promise
To never let me go
I was falling to pieces
When you carried me home
When you told me you loved me
And my prodigal soul
It's August.
Did you listen?
Yeah.
And?
He would have loved it, August.
Yeah.
I feel warmth against my back suddenly, breath against the top of my head. Caleb is behind me. What do you need, August?
Nothing you can provide, man. I miss my best friend.
He isn't here.
I'm aware.
Goodnight August. Caleb reaches over me and closes the door in August's face. The look on it as the door closed broke my heart. I am led back to bed, crushed under Caleb's weight as he uses our wakefulness in the dark for another round of trying to win me back the hard way, fighting through all of history, Stockholm and post-traumatic Bridget syndromes to arrive at this pre-dawn assault on my convictions about who I love, and in what order.
He finally lets go and falls asleep and I lie there. I can't sleep. August's pain of missing Jake is the bond that keeps us close and I know damn well if I feel like that, especially in the night, there isn't a single person who would turn me down or turn me out.
And it's a luxury I absolutely refuse to deny him.
I get up quietly, extricating myself from Caleb's arms, and Lochlan's grip on my hand, and I dress quickly, leaving the room silent like a mouse. I dart across the driveway in bare feet in the freezing rain, almost wiping out on the steps and knock on August's door. I wait, shivering but he never comes. I let myself in and walk into his loft and he's on his knees, head down in prayer, rocking back and forth, probably set back a million years like I was when I listened to the new record and knew Jake would have loved it so beyond anything else he had heard and I dropped to the floor, threw my arms around him and tried to keep him from shaking.
It's supposed to be easy now, Bridget. It's been so long and I can't get anywhere and I know how you feel.
Yeah, you do. Better than anyone. I nod, tears dripping off my chin, as August turns to sit with his back against the wall, pulling me into his lap to hold. It's always a song, or a photograph. Or just a feeling like something's missing. Something big. Something blonde. Something so faithful he held the rest of us up our whole lives and we're only being to realize how efficient he must have been at doing it, as we can't seem to do it for ourselves.