Chapter 16

"I can almost hear you thinking." Lance throws him a curveball that lands with a resounding thwack on his gloved hand.

Dylan just throws the ball back at him without saying a word. It has been years since he and Lance had played catch, even longer since they'd been a battery.

"Tell me about Saxon," Lance says, sounding a bit wary. The swing of his arm is gentler than his usual pitches so the ball feels light when it lands on Dylan's glove.

Dylan doesn't utter a word, gaze sliding down to the ground.

"Y-you don't have to say anything if you don't feel like talking about it, Dylan. I just…"

"It's okay." It's not okay. But he knows he won't be able to say no to Lance. Somehow, Lance still holds some kind of spell over him. 

"We met— Well, I didn't exactly meet him but I first saw him just a couple of weeks after I moved to Quanon Island. It was like…" He pulls a string of memory from the corner of his mind and the past starts to play like a movie in his head. "It was like fate." 

Dylan tells Lance how he bumped into Saxon at a grocery store, recounts the strange coincidence of seeing Saxon again at the café across the street where Dylan worked. 

It feels liberating to talk about Saxon — what he did for his birthday, what he loved to eat, what his pet peeves were — and it makes Dylan feel like Saxon still lives in him.

"He sounds wonderful," Lance says after a while. His eyes have gone soft. 

"He was."

Silence swoops in and Dylan continues to roll the ball in his hand. He hears Lance kick on the ground and he takes it as a cue to throw the ball back. The wind swirls around them, not good for a fastball. He keeps his eyes on Lance's stance. 

"Have you ever tried um… letting him go?" Lance speaks up after what seems to be a long stretch of time. 

Dylan straightens up from his crouched position to meet Lance's gaze. A harsh "No" tumbles out of his mouth.

Lance's arms fall on his side. "You can try doing it gradually. I'll help if you want me to. I'm sure Saxon wouldn't want to see you like this, Dyl."

It's hard enough to accept the fact that Saxon's gone. To let go of the feelings and everything that keeps Saxon alive inside him is painful to imagine — as painful as having a knife driven through his heart. His tears feel like acid on his face, burning through his skin.

The ball drops from Lance's hand. Lance crosses the space separating them in a hurried gait then gathers Dylan in his arms, his hand rubbing circles on Dylan's back. "Let it all out, Dylan. Just let it go."

They stay that way — Dylan's head resting on Lance's shoulder, his tears streaming down on Lance's shirt — until Dylan hears throat-clearing.

Bryan is standing not too far from them. 

"Should I leave you two alone?" Lance's eyes skip between Bryan and Dylan.

"No." Bryan shakes his head. "I won't be long. I just came to say goodbye to Dylan."

"You're leaving?" The mere thought of not having Bryan around anymore makes Dylan's chest twinge.

"Yes. My um… my parents can no longer afford to keep me here. So…." Bryan rocks on the balls of his feet.

It's self-preservation that keeps Dylan rooted on the spot. His gaze slips from Bryan to Lance and the sincerity that hovers over Lance's face is enough to melt Dylan's pride. 

Dylan opens his arms and it takes five quick strides for Bryan to fall into Dylan's arms.

"Take care, okay? You have my email address. Send me a message or something." It has been ages since Dylan last checked his email account. But he promises Bryan he will check constantly from now on.

Bryan leaves at sundown and Dylan stands by the residential building's front window watching the car that's taking the teenager away from Ryder Oak disappear at the end of the winding driveway. 

*

It was a heart attack that took Steve from Dylan. From his mom. From Tyler. From everyone who cared deeply about him.

Dylan stayed in Deertona for three days. Saxon was caught up at school and at work so he couldn't be with Dylan but he was sweet enough to call Dylan's family and express his condolences.

To Dylan's surprise, Bill Stradson showed up to pay his respect the day Dylan's dad was cremated. Dylan later learned that it was his mom who called to inform him. She was, apparently, still in touch with Bill and his wife, Cecilia, after all these years.

The burden that weighed heavily in Dylan's chest dissipated as soon as Dylan returned to Winburrow. The urn that held his father's remains sat on the coffee table and Dylan had been staring at it for hours when Saxon came home.

Saxon offered no words. Just the warmth of his embrace was enough to console Dylan. He stayed in Saxon's arms for hours until night crept in, gray shadows shrouding the entire house. 

Numbness soon replaces the ache in Dylan's chest. His heart felt like there were thorns buried in it. "His father was there," he said as if they had been immersed in a casual conversation.

Saxon didn't ask him to elaborate. Instead, he said, "That was nice and kind of him to be there."

A comfortable silence swirled around them for a while. Dylan wondered if heaven did exist. If it did, he wondered if his dad was there now with Sean.

"Mom asked me to keep the urn for a while," he said but he left the part out where his mother told him that it was his dad's last request. 

How could he? His dad knew he wasn't emotionally strong. Or maybe… maybe his dad knew that Dylan wouldn't fall apart because he had Saxon to hold him together.