I told him, but once I was done, I asked, “What happened?”

He grunted, reversing the vehicle back to the road. “My dad’s getting married.”

“What?”

“When you meet her, you’ll understand.” He held my hand and laced our fingers together. “You ready for this?”

No. “Yes.”

“You want me to read it?”

Yes. “No.” I had to.

“Okay.” He squeezed my hand. “But I can, if you can’t.”

“I know.” I squeezed back. “I’ll get through it.”

THE LAST

LOGAN

I stood back.

This was Taylor’s time to speak and she did, raising her head and clearing her throat. She began, “It’s not for the weak or faint of heart.

It will take a toll on you. Your body will hurt. Your soul will ache. Your family life will suffer. No one will understand what you do or why you do it, but you do it. You will work nights. You will work weekends. Holidays. You will bathe the elderly, the weak. You will clean their body, their bodily fluids. You will have to know every medication, what it does, when to stop it, when to give it, and how to get it into people. You will have to know how to interpret blood tests, when the doctor must know. You will have thirty seconds to start an IV, how to hook up an EKG machine. You will need to know how to interpret tracing or when you should give or take away oxygen. You will experience joy, grief, and sorrow in a day, sometimes within the same hour.

You are the glue between the patient, the family, the doctor. It’s you who will keep everyone happy, as comfortable as possible. Code blue. Trauma evaluation. Labor. Delivery. Surgery. Babies. Postpartum. Psychology. These and more will all need to be learned. And when you think you know everything, you don’t.

You’re just starting.

I was asked to write this essay on why I want to be a nurse. I know that I wrote all that will be demanded of me, and the reason for this was because I know what it takes to be a nurse. I know the joy and the sorrow. I know the suffering, but the real reason I want to be a nurse didn’t need an essay. There’s really one reason, I will pick up the torch that my mother left when she died caring for the man who would shoot her.

She did a service to others in her life, and now…

...it’s my turn.”

Taylor was crying, and she folded up her essay, sliding it into my pocket when she was done. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t dare. Love swelled up in me, and I wanted to take her in my arms, but I refrained.

She stood over her mother, then used both hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She stayed there, gazing down at the headstone. I waited. I’d wait an eternity for this woman. I saw the strength in her. I was drawn to her from the beginning, knowing she wanted to fight for Sam, or maybe she just wanted to fight. Something deep in me was drawn to her, so I used an excuse to talk to her. I didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t really Delray. I didn’t care about him. I didn’t even really care about messing with him. It was her the whole time, only I didn’t know it myself. Now here we were. This visit was different. It wasn’t because of the essay, though. I felt it in the air. We came another time, but there was a sense of finality in her voice. Her tears seemed deeper.

She was letting her go.

I straightened, frowning. “Taylor?”

She gazed at me, her eyes uncharacteristically bright. Then she smiled, and the sight did two things. I felt the twitch deep in me, when only she could smile at me, and it transformed her face. The pain was gone. All of it.

“You’re okay?” I had to know. My fingers still ached to reach for her.

She nodded. “I am.” She took a breath. “Do you have it with you?”

I pulled out the vase, then the sand, and handed over the sparkler. She took everything, bending back down so the vase sat in front of the headstone. The sand went inside, and she stuffed the sparkler in there, standing it upright. I handed her the lighter, and after she lit the sparkler, she stood back, moving to stand beside me. Her hand found mine, and we stayed there, watching the firecracker spark to life.

I used to be a partier. I used to be a manwhore. I used to fight—well, okay. I would still party. I would still fight, and I’d be a manwhore, but it was over.

Tate’s words came back to me. “I hope you fall in love. You can feel what the rest of us feel.”

I scoffed at that. I saw more heartache than good coming from loving someone, but here I was.

I was holding hands with my last girl.

TAYLOR

We were setting up for the big party, and when I say ‘setting up’, the guys went to get two kegs while Sam and I stayed behind to get the food done. I came to Fallen Crest with Logan for the holiday break, and we were at his mother’s house, getting ready to throw a ‘Kade Party’. From the way Logan said it, these types of parties were a big ‘fucking’ deal. I wasn’t sure what the night was going to be like, but I was ready for anything. I learned to adopt that mantra being Logan’s other half. I never knew what he was going to do, say, or when he’d suddenly sweep me up and carry me off to bed, but it was an adventure, like Logan himself.

I’d have it no other way. Where he was, so was I...except now. He was off getting booze, and I was waiting as his sister ordered food.

As if on cue, Sam hung up the phone and announced, “Our part is done. Twenty pizzas are on the way.”

“That’s all we have to do?”