Even though I wanted to go sit on the rock and see if I could still feel her all around me, I ignored it. Instead, I walked straight to the tree where I had carved our names into one day. We were lying with her head on my chest and my arms around her. My hand came out, and I traced the letters with my finger, lost in the thought of her again, but I was done. It was enough or at least that was what I thought. I pulled the string and the chainsaw roared to life. I was about to cut the fucking tree down when Beau shouted.

“Are you out of your mind?” he said once I shut off the chainsaw. “You can’t cut down this tree.”

I looked around. “Why not?”

“Well, for one, I think it’s against the law since it’s, you know …” He looked around now. “Not your property, and two, because it’s not a good fucking idea.”

“My name is on it”—I pointed at him, and he rolled his eyes—“so I think that makes it mine.” I knew I sounded stupid, and I knew that it was not my best idea, but I just wanted to bury another piece of us.

“Well, I think that Casey would not agree with you,” he said, and then I looked down and thought about it. I knew he was right, so instead of cutting down the tree, I cut my name off it. I expected to be gone before anyone saw us, but then I heard a galloping horse approaching. I saw him through the trees as he guided his horse toward us.

“What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?” he said as soon as he got the horse to stop beside me.

“Nothing.” Beau tried to calm the situation.

“I want my name off your tree.” I pointed at the tree.

“Did you think you would be able to cut down a fucking tree and me not notice?” he asked, shaking his head, then he looked at Beau. “Make sure he doesn’t cut more than he needs to.” He kicked his horse and took off.

“I’m right here,” I yelled at his retreating back, “son of a bitch.” I started the chainsaw, and in five minutes, our names were in little pieces on the grass. All that was there now was the light brown bark. My hands came out, and I traced it with my finger. Blank, fresh, new.

“Knock, knock, knock.” I hear the front door open, and I sit up, my mind coming back to the present. “Hello?” I hear my mother’s voice, and then she finally finds me. “There you are. Why are you in bed?”

“I was just lying down. I didn’t really sleep last night,” I say and avoid the sadness in her eyes. “What’s up?”