Chapter 62: Elle

                                    

                                          
August 30
                          
Loon Call Island, Lake Rosseau, Muskoka
                          
I open my eyes, blinking against the light filtering through the window. They are swollen and gritty from crying and sleeping. 
                          
The day ahead will probably be one of the hardest days of my life. Of our lives.
                          
I look down to see Greyson's head resting high on my stomach, holding me tightly in sleep. I stroke my hand over his soft, thick hair, running my fingers through it. He's still fully dressed, having fallen asleep on the sofa with me the night before. 
                          
As I lay quietly steeling myself for the day ahead, I let my mind wander, drifting over the memories from the past weeks. 
                          
They'd flown by, a blur, bittersweet and beautiful; happy and heartbreaking. 
                          
I can't believe it's been nearly a month since Liam's parents brought him up north. It feels like yesterday. 
                          
But, after seventeen bittersweet but strangely perfect days, Liam passed away in his sleep, wrapped in the arms of the girl he loved and surrounded by his family. 
                          
After he'd asked me to keep the letters for him, we'd spent another five wonderful days together, all of us, creating beautiful memories, just as he'd wanted.
                          
Today, exactly four days later, we'll gather in the small church in the town of Rosseau, to mourn the death of a sweet boy, taken too soon. His family has opted to keep the services here in Muskoka rather than the city, preferring to keep the ceremony as private as possible, a celebration of life will follow later in the year. 
                          
I stroke Greyson's hair once more, nudging him awake. I slide lower on the sofa, under him, bringing his face closer to mine and I kiss him awake. His hands grip my ribs tightly. 
                          
I squeeze him hard, then pull us both up into a sitting position. "We need to get ready," I say softly. I untangle myself from his hold and look down at him. He's hollow-eyed, dazed, and the lines from the fabric of his denim shirt I'd fallen asleep in are pressed into his cheek. 
                          
Tugging him along with me into the bathroom, I unbutton the soft flannel shirt from his body, sliding it away. I remove the belt and push him to finish undressing. He does so, robotically, and I cover his fresh tattoo with plastic, taping it down. 
                          
I still couldn't believe what they'd gone and done, but I had to admit, I found the dark ink lines on his chest appealing, not to mention the fact that it was a beautiful tribute to his friend.
                          
The three jersey numbers, side by side, with the hockey stick underneath captivated me. The lines that had been red and angry, are now almost fully healed, and so beautiful against his tan skin.
                          
I turn the shower on and step back, pushing him through the opening and under the spray. 
                          
He stands there, frozen. His face tipped up under the spray. 
                          
I watch him, worried. He's barely said a word these last few days. He's fallen asleep each night wrapped in my arms. 
                          
The first two nights following Liam's passing, Ryan, Hudson, and Theo had been curled up next to us as well. I haven't spent a night in my own bed, my own home, in over a week. 
                          
I'd tried to see Sam three different times, but her parents drove up from Toronto to stay with her and Liam's family, and she hasn't been accepting any visitors.
                          
After ten minutes of his standing there, not moving, I strip to my bra and underwear to step into the shower with him. I take a small cloth from the rail, lather it with soap, and run it over his body, cleaning him, soothing him.