“For years after you died, I hated the club,” I whisper. “Then I hated myself even more. Leaving the club and starting my own thing was easy... living afterwards wasn’t. Every anniversary I come back here because it’s the only promise I’ve never broken because I promised myself I’d never forget. I never have and I never will.”
My hand slips into my jacket pocket, searching for my truck keys, but my fingers brush against my phone instead. I’d forgotten I even brought it. The battery died sometime after I got here yesterday. I stare at the black screen for a long moment before holding down the power button.
It vibrates. The manufacturer’s logo appears. Then the notifications begin, one after another, until I frown at the sheer number of them.
Missed Call… Lily.
Missed Call… Lily.
Missed
