BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (50)
  1. Prologue
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Part Two
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  40. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  41. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  42. Chapter Forty
  43. Chapter Forty-One
  44. Chapter Forty-Two
  45. Part Three
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Epilogue

“She’s really cute,” I choke out. The backs of my eyes burn, and I blink a few times, trying to avoid my eyes welling up with tears. That would be ridiculous. “Thank you for getting Houston a buddy.” My voice is cracked, and I can tell by the look in his eyes he sees what he’s doing to me. “I fucking miss you, Stone. I wish I could throw my arms around you right now and give you a proper thank you.”

“I miss you too, baby.” His words are said barely above a whisper, and I get the sense that the overwhelming emotions I’m drowning in, he’s feeling too. Even countries apart, we’re still completely in sync with one another.

We end up talking for a while longer, until I eventually fall asleep. It almost felt like he was here with me.

Almost.

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four

Cash DeMarco

August—Lisbon, Portugal

Two months have nearly come and gone. Tonight is my last night in Europe before I head back to the states. This trip was life changing and exactly what I needed. I’ve been in Lisbon for three nights now, and I finished my manuscript last night. Hundreds upon hundreds of pages of my blood, sweat, and tears.

Writing “The End” on something I’ve poured every last ounce of myself into for the last year is surreal. This book cracked me wide open and gutted me. It hurt me as much as it healed me. I can’t even say how many times I considered throwing it in the trash and torching the whole thing. Walking away without a second glance.

Looking back at where I was when I first attempted to write this—broken down, depressed, lost. This book had several variations of it before I found my groove. After Stone left, I spent countless nights in that damn field. More nights than I’d even want to admit to him. Dozens of nights climbing into my car, no direction in mind, only to end up where I always wound up. Where my heart always led me.

Being there helped me feel close to him. Which is stupid to say. I’d lay in that field, staring up at the sky, cursing his name and begging for an explanation. That night sky saw endless tears. Endless broken promises to myself, saying that time would be the last time. I would finally forget about him. Finally move on with my life. Only to wind up right back there the very next night. This continuous cycle lasted for months. It was the only place I could find any sort of solace.