Chapter 175: A Visit To Rember
The path they walked on curved through the cetery, bringing them to a small hill where Mason’s family was laid to rest. The closer they got, the more tense Mason beca. With his fists balled up, he seed to brace himself for what was coming. It had been years since he had co here—years of running away from the grief, the guilt, the mories.
When they reached the top of the hill, Ellen slowed her pace, her eyes scanning the neat row of tombstones in front of them. Mason’s breath hitched as he spotted the three headstones that marked the resting place of his father, his mother, and his older brother. When he saw their nas in the stone, it hit him like a punch to the stomach.
Ellen’s eyes softened as she read the inscriptions. "Jas Coldwell. Beloved husband and father." Then she moved to the next. "Margaret Coldwell. A mother’s love never fades." Her gaze shifted to the last tombstone, and she swallowed hard as she read the na. "Ian Coldwell. A brother, a friend, a light."
Ellen bent down, gently placed the bouquet of lilies at the base of the headstones. She straightened up, her hands brushing together as she stepped back and glanced at Mason.
"I wish I could’ve t them," Ellen said softly, her eyes eting Mason’s. Though Mason didn’t respond right away, but his shoulders relaxed a bit.
"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Coldwell... Ian," she said, her gaze focused on the tombstones as if addressing them directly. "I’m Ellen, Mason’s—well, I guess, his wife." She smiled a little. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am that we’re eting under these circumstances. I’ve heard a lot about you, though, not from Mason... he doesn’t talk about you as much as he should."
Mason flinched, feeling a rush of guilt from what Ellen said, but he didn’t say a word.
Ellen continued. "I don’t know what you must’ve gone through... losing them," she glanced briefly at Mason before looking back at the graves, "but I do know that you raised a good man. He’s strong, even when he doesn’t feel like it. And he cares—deeply, about a lot of things. I thought maybe today could be a day to rember that... and to say how much he still loves you, even if he doesn’t say it."
Ellen’s voice got a little shaky, but she kept it together, stepping back and giving Mason a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Mason," she called, "you should say sothing too."
Mason blinked, feeling his chest tighten as he looked at her. Say sothing? He hadn’t planned on this. His gaze drifted back to the tombstones, and for a long mont, he just stared at them, he felt that sa old wave of sadness and guilt dragging him down again. It was overwhelming—more than he could put into words.
He didn’t know where to start. How could he? After all these years of staying away, what could he possibly say that would make any of this better? But Ellen’s soft gaze encouraged him, and finally, he took a deep, shaky breath, and his voice ca out as just a whisper
"Hi..." Mason’s voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. "I’m sorry I haven’t... co sooner." His words hung in the air. He took another breath, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. "I didn’t know what to say... or how to be here without feeling like it was my fault. I just—" he paused, closing his eyes for a mont before forcing himself to continue. "I couldn’t face it."
Ellen stood silently beside him, giving him the space he needed.
"I should’ve been here with you," Mason whispered, his eyes stinging as he looked at his brother’s na on the tombstone. "Ian, I’m so sorry. I should’ve protected you... I should’ve done more."
His voice broke. He could feel his heart hamring in his chest, the pain of everything he had buried for so long started to creep back up. The mories of that day—the day he lost them—played in his mind.
He had failed them. He had failed his family.
"I miss you," Mason continued. "All of you. I miss you so much. But I didn’t know how to co back here... how to live with the fact that you’re gone and I’m still here."
There was a long, painful silence after Mason’s words. His shoulders slumped, his body drained from the effort of saying what he had never allowed himself to say before. He felt really exposed and vulnerable, but there was a little bit of relief too. He had finally spoken, finally faced it, even if it hurt.
Ellen placed a hand gently on his back, her touch warm and steady. "They would be proud of you, Mason," she whispered. "For being here, for saying what you needed to say. You didn’t fail them."
Mason let out a big sigh, and the tension in his chest started to ease as Ellen’s words sank in. She stood by him quietly, her hand resting on his back, offering silent support.
Mason wasn’t sure how long they had stood there, but finally, he nodded. "We should go."
Ellen nodded in understanding, giving him one last gentle squeeze on his shoulder before stepping back. She gave the headstones a long look before moving on, a small smile tugging at her lips as if silently saying her goodbyes to Mason’s family. She knew this was a mont Mason had needed for a long ti, and she hoped it had brought him so asure of peace.
They were nearing the gates when, out of the corner of her eye, Ellen noticed another figure moving down the sa path, heading toward them. A tall guy in a plain black coat walked slowly, looking pretty casual, yet there was sothing about him that sent a chill down her spine.
He moved slowly, with his head slightly down, like he was really focused on sothing.
They passed the man in silence. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge them at all. He stared ahead, and the way the sun hit him made it hard to see his face clearly. But sothing about him felt off.
Mason was already starting the car to leave when the guy stopped in front of the Coldwell family tombstones.
"What do you think of the new addition to the family?" the man asked softly. "Do you guys like her?"
The man paused, tilting his head as if listening for a response that only he could hear. He gave a little chuckle and said in a spooky, playful tone. "If you all like her, maybe I’ll send her to be with you soon."
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