I did the same with mine.
They tossed their bottles in with Snake. I followed suit and did it knowing that either Abel arranged all this, understanding the kind of closure Dad and the boys would need, or he’d found out what they needed and made certain they had it.
And I loved the fact that, this time, my man gave my father, his friends, and, most especially, Snake, what they needed.
Moose went back to Jabber and wheeled him a few feet up the beach. After Dad jerked his head that I should go to Jabber, I did. And I stood next to Jabber as Dad, Moose, and Poncho bent to the boat and gave it a mighty heave, shoving it into the waves, going into them thigh-deep, pushing Snake to sea, the sun setting on the horizon.
I gulped back a sob as more wet hit my cheeks, and Jabber’s hand came out and curled around mine.
Dad, Moose, and Poncho stood in the waves, watching the boat drift to sea before they turned and made their way out of the surf to Jabber and me.
Dad slid an arm around my shoulders and got close. I kept hold of Jabber’s hand. We all stood and watched as Snake rode the waves, one last ride—not a wild one, a peaceful one.
As it should be.
Then I heard zinging and four flaming arrows arced through the violet of the overhead sky, falling and hitting the boat.
It burst into flames.
I couldn’t hold back my sob. Jabber’s hand tightened in mine as Dad lifted his hand and turned his body so he could tuck my cheek to his chest.
I didn’t tear my eyes from the boat as it burned.
After some time, the silence that had been pierced only by the sound of the distant flames and the soft lapping of water against rock was interrupted with guitar strings.
I turned my head, Dad turned his body, and we saw that Abel had his guitar on a thigh that was up, his boot and ass balanced on a rock, his other leg straight. He was playing.
And then he was singing.
And that was when the tears poured out of me.
Because he was singing (and I didn’t know he could sing) and doing it beautifully.
But mostly because he was singing Cat Stevens’s “The Wind.”
I listened to Abel’s deep voice wrapping around the words as my eyes drifted back to Snake getting one thing he wanted in life and getting it after he died.
Abel finished the song, gave it a few moments, then I again looked to him when he kept going.
This time doing Pearl Jam’s “Just Breathe.”
When he started singing, his dark head was bent, watching his fingers move on the strings.
But on the first “stay with me,” he lifted his head and looked right to me.
And my world stopped.
But my tears didn’t.
My friend Snake burned, my life was turned upside down, and I stood on a pebbled beach with family, a bunch of vampires and werewolves, my man singing to me, and I fell in love.
Forever and completely.
But I’d already been in love.
Since the day I was born to be Abel’s.
I stared into Abel’s eyes as the words he sang poured into my soul, and I knew no matter what became of me, I’d live wild and free and full for the rest of my life.
Because he would give that to me.
And watching him pour those words into my soul, part of it died, knowing I couldn’t give him the same thing.
As the song started to come to a close, I let Jabber go and pressed close to Dad for a second before I broke free and moved across the beach to Abel.
I stood right in front of him, his eyes soft on mine as he sang the final words, “meet you on the other side,” and then the notes died away.
“That’s a deal,” I whispered.
Pain pierced the serenity of his expression because he knew I knew.
And that pain settled where the hole he’d filled had been in my belly. It settled permanently. I’d hold it with me until my last breath.
And I’d do it gladly. I’d take that pain because Abel gave it to me.
He swung the guitar by the strap until it was resting on a slant on his back and held his arms wide.
I didn’t hesitate to move into them and press close, my cheek to his chest, my arms around him, his around me. I turned my eyes to Snake’s burning boat.
“That’s what I want,” I said softly.
“Then that’s what you’ll get, bao bei,” he replied softly, his voice thick.
We stayed there, me holding Abel, Abel holding me, and me trying not to think of the time that would come, whenever it might be, where he’d be just like he is now—strong, handsome, and amazing—but he’d also be somewhere on a beach, watching me burn.
“I was born to be yours, you know,” I told him.
“I know,” he told me.
I nestled deep and whispered, “I’m sorry I took so long.”
Abel said nothing, just held me tighter.
“We’ll live wild and free,” I promised.
“You got it,” he agreed, now his voice was rough.
“After we save the world, that is.”
A deep, startled laugh surged up his throat and he pulled me even closer.
“Born to be yours, baby,” I kept whispering.
He again said nothing, just turned his head so I felt his lips at my hair.
“Born to love you, Abel.”
That was when his arms squeezed the breath out of me.
When he loosened his hold, I said, “Thank you for giving this to Snake.”
“My mate has me wrapped around her finger. I’d give her anything. But the man who died to make sure I could still hold her in my arms, I made sure he went home exactly how that needed to be.”
Yeah, I was born to love this man.
I snuggled close. Abel shifted his bent leg so his thigh and body trapped me precisely where I needed to be.