Chapter 21: Ask

Brice's POV

The cemetery gate closed at six, but the groundskeeper had worked for Walter's father, and he waved me through without looking at what I carried.

I had bought the ring on Wednesday afternoon, while Brynn was across town signing papers I was not allowed to read.

It was a plain gold band with a small green stone, the exact color of the dress I'd bought her on Sunday.

I had carried it in my jacket for two days, and I had checked for it every ten minutes.

Brynn was already at her father's grave when I came up the hill.

She had changed out of the gray jacket, and she wore a black coat and no makeup.

She stood with her hands in her pockets, looking at the stone.

"I read him the vote," she said without turning around. "Seventy-one percent."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He never did like a speech." She wiped her face with her sleeve. "I don't think he'd have liked what I said to her."

"I think he'd have liked it fine."

"You think that because you're biased."

"I'm very biased."

She laughed, and it caught halfway, and she turned.

The light was nearly gone.

She looked tired and bare and so completely herself that my chest hurt.

"Dad told me to ask you something," she said. "In the letter. He said you'd never tell me what you wanted, and I should ask."

"Brynn."

"So I'm asking. What do you want, Brice?"

The ring box sat in my pocket against my ribs.

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