A week ago

I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel and allowed myself to cry.

She was already flying, getting farther from me by the second, and I selfishly hoped that, by some fucking miracle, the plane would turn around and bring Sky back to me.

It didn't, and my tears dried out after sitting in my car in the airport car park for a while.

It didn't matter; I was still crying on the inside.

I went from being mad at her and begging her to stay to understanding why she did it. It didn't change the fact that I'd lost the love of my life. It didn't lessen my pain. It didn't give me an idea of what to do now that there wasn't an "us" anymore. There was I, here, and Sky, there, but not us, together.

Our beautiful love story was over shortly after it began. There were hundreds of things we didn't get a chance to do and so many words I didn't say.

I didn't tell her that she made me look forward to every new day, or that I set my alarm half an hour earlier each day to have time to kiss her or make love to her while we were both sleepy and warm in our bed.

I didn't say to Sky that she made me believe in myself and pushed me to go after my dreams without actually pushing.

I didn't tell her that for the first time in years, I was truly happy. I had a family, and she was a big part of it.

And now, she was gone.

What crushed me more than the memory of kissing her goodbye at the airport for the last time was the sight of her things in our apartment. I still had Sky's beautiful mirror, and her pink comforter, and her scent everywhere.

I still heard her laughter and expected her to open the door and rush to plop down on my lap, hug me and kiss me.

I still wanted to hold her under the blanket on the couch as we watched a movie, and laugh at the silly jokes together.

I refused to believe it was over, but it was, and I did what I didn't usually do— I drank for two days straight, every strong drink imaginable, only stopping to answer Gaspar's text in which he said they had placed second.

I called him during a moment of sobriety, and then texted Sky, who asked me how I was. A fucking joke. I didn't reply and took another drink straight from the bottle.

It didn't help, and when I ran out of booze and headed to the store to buy more, I realized what I was doing resembled the actions of a different person. I was turning into my dad — not the loving and cheerful version of him I remembered from when Mom was alive, but the other one, the one of a man who didn't know how to cope and saw the answers to his questions and heartache at the bottom of the bottle.

That revelation made me turn around and go home. I dragged my sorry ass to the shower and made myself a cup of strong coffee. Then, I gathered the courage to enter Sky's room.

Just like she said, two letters were on her nightstand— one to Ellie, another one to Tim.

What she left for me was a USB memory stick. I contemplated not checking what was on it, but curiosity got the better of me.

I sat on the floor in my bedroom and fired up my laptop. Then, I inserted the small device into the USB port and waited for the machine to recognize it.

My eyes flared at the sight of many folders. I clicked on the one called Him and saw me.

I was at the gym, the basketball court, at home, unaware of Sky taking pictures. It started when I moved in. As I clicked on every image, I saw myself through Sky's eyes.

My eyes looked haunted in September, but I was smiling in almost every image in June and July. It was because of her — my girl.

I looked at the rest of the folders — His Smile, His Eyes, His Hands, His Body. And then, it was us — Our Special Moments, Our Love. Hundreds of pictures of our daily life, those moments that often went unnoticed and got lost in the routine that Sky somehow immortalized. Us, cooking, us, dancing, us, cuddling under the blanket. She applied filters to the images, making them look like parts of a movie. I did remember her fiddling with her camera, but I never asked what she was doing, and Sky never told me.

And as if my heart wasn't aching already, there was one more blow — the last folder. My Boys.

Hundreds of pictures of my brother and me Sky took without us knowing, candid shots of our moments together.

I closed the laptop, and the tears flowed again. Years' worth of pain spilled onto my cheeks, and for once, I didn't try to stop it.

What I did understand was that I wasn't ready to say goodbye and let Sky go. I knew she loved me, and even if she didn't say it when I wanted her to, those images were proof of her feelings. She had doubts and had been through too much. She might have assumed I wouldn't fight for her. Nobody ever did, after all.

And there was nothing I wanted more than to prove her wrong. I wanted her in my arms and in my and my brother's life. Even if she insisted on staying there, I would use every argument I had to convince her to come home with me.

What we had wasn't easy or perfect, but it was deep, true, and special. We were much better together, and it was high time both of us stopped being so damn stubborn.

Without wasting more time, I turned on my computer again, and just as I opened the web browser to go to the page of the airline and buy the ticket for the next plane, my phone rang.

A long, unknown number flashed on the screen. I accepted the call right away.

"Liam Dupont?"

"That's right."

"This is Tom Williams. You must have talked to my father, Geoffrey Williams. Unfortunately, he had a stroke and is still recovering. I had to take over his business, and I apologize for taking so long to get in touch with you regarding your inheritance. I used to live abroad, but seeing that it will take my dad a while to get back to work, I decided to help him out."

"You're an attorney."

The man laughed. "Yes, I'm sorry. Should've said it from the start."

"So, it's not a joke. The letter I received said the truth."

"Indeed, my father sent you a letter. I have a copy. He had a stroke right after, and that was the reason why you haven't heard from him."

"So, how should we proceed? I don't even know what I inherited."

"Wait a moment," the man mumbled, shuffling some papers around, judging by the noises that reached my ears. "Here it is. We're talking about a house and some land, and the person who left it to you is your great-grandmother. She passed away fifteen years ago and left a will, in which she stated that the house would be yours once you turned twenty-one. I would suggest you travel here to sign the paperwork and take possession of the house and the adjacent land as soon as possible."

"Sure. Where is this place?"

The man chuckled. "I'll email the location to you..." Tom paused. "Right now. Done. My father's office is in a town nearby. As soon as you're here, I'll explain everything to you. Please, check your inbox and email me the date of your arrival."

"Sure. Thank you."

"Not at all. I apologize for the delay."

As soon as we hung up, I booked an airplane ticket for the following day. The area Tom mentioned was off the beaten track, but much to my surprise, not so far from where Sky lived. It might take up to six hours by car, but that wouldn't stop me. I was going to sort out the house issue and then get my girl.

Packing didn't take me long. I called my brother to make sure he was okay. We texted daily, but now that I would travel, I felt calmer knowing he was having a good time.

I did call Amelia just in case, telling her I was going abroad for a week and would be back before Tim returned home. She would notify me in case of an emergency.

Nervous anticipation filled my insides. My past and my future were waiting for me in the same place.

***
"I am happy you managed to get here so soon," Tom said, shaking my hand when I made it to his office after a long flight. "I have everything ready. You only need to sign, and then the house is yours."

"Feels surreal," I said, plastering my signature on a page. "Do you know anything else about the person who gave all of it to me?"

Tom shook his head. "You will have to ask your grandmother."

The pen I was holding slipped out of my grasp and landed on the pile of papers on the desk. "Excuse me?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know." The guy stared at me and then sighed. "You didn't. It's alright. Your grandmother lives in a town nearby. I notified her of your arrival. I have her phone number in case you want to get in touch before she goes to your house to see you. The woman was insistent. She will probably be able to answer your questions."

"I hope so," I muttered. "So, what now?"

Tom handed me a set of keys. "These are yours and I have a road map for you to get to that place. The internet connection isn't good there, so it's better to rely on the old-fashioned method."

"Thanks. Can I call you if there's a problem?"

"Sure. It was nice to meet you, Liam."

"Likewise," I replied, shaking Tom's hand, and left his office, stepping into the hot afternoon.

I was thankful for the air conditioning in the car I'd rented. The road map came in handy, as well. I would have gotten lost hadn't it been for it.

Almost two hours later, I was surrounded by woods, driving down a narrow country road.

The place reminded me of something Sky and I watched on TV once. It was peaceful and quiet, and for a moment, I got worried that I did, in fact, get lost.

Except I saw the gates leading to what I assumed was my estate, as ridiculous as the idea was. There must have been another property further down the road, judging by a different gate I'd seen.

I parked the car and got my stuff from it. The house was hidden behind the trees, but it was there, and all kinds of mixed feelings assaulted me all at once because I didn't know what to expect now that I was here.

I walked up to the porch of an old Victorian and unlocked the door.

Light poured out of beautiful windows and flooded everything around me through the drawn semi-sheer curtains. White sheets covered the furniture, but nothing prevented me from seeing the walls.

And on the walls, there were pictures of my mom and me.

She was young in them, a girl first, a woman later. Those were images of her life before she had me, but I also saw pictures of Mom and Dad together, and photos of me right until I turned six. Each was carefully framed and displayed, which told me my mom's grandmother cared about her.

The longer I looked at the pictures, the more questions I had. Eventually, I felt overwhelmed and headed outside to take a look at the surrounding area before inspecting the rest of the rooms in the house. I could use some fresh air, and later some food.

The sun would set soon. I circled the big house and walked toward the fence, lost in way too many thoughts floating around in my exhausted brain.

"Loverboy!"

The loud voice made me stop dead in my tracks. I swiveled my head around, and saw the source of it — the dude was shirtless, leaning against the fence and chewing an apple.

Laughing, I stared at the sight in front of me.

"Fuck my life. O'Brien?!"