Page 3 of Dandelion Sighs

I tried to speak. My throat worked, but no other noise came out. How did I fix this? It wasn’t something I could call my best friend about. How did I explain it? It felt like my biggest fuckup yet.

He glanced down at his dusty boots and jeans again. “No worries. It’s just a little dirt.” He peered closer at the debris. “A bunch of dust?”

My frantic attention lifted back to him and his easygoing face.

His gaze met mine, and his eyes went wide at whatever he saw in my expression. He blanched.

Finally, I let the words spill out. “It’s my mom.”

Jasper

I had someone’s ashes scattered on me.

The logical part of my brain refused to believe what the woman’s stunned gaze said loud and clear.

Her mom?

“Not all of her,” she rushed to tack on, and that wasn’t better. “She’s split between me and my brothers.”

I almost dropped the container I was holding. It wasn’t an urn. Yogurt?

“She wanted us to have a part of her wherever we were and not just in one place.” She waved her hands. Her bow lips were pinched, and the dark slashes of her brows had a divot in the middle. “A place of our choosing that we could visit. Or carry her around.”

Nothing made sense. Her words were jumbled, and they weren’t arranged in a coherent explanation. “Ma’am, can I have a second to process all this?”

“Yep. Of course.” She timidly took the plastic tub out of my hands.

Neither of us moved, and we just stared at my boots. They had been dirt-free but were now covered in an uneven scatter of ash. Dust to dust.

I almost laughed, but this woman’s mother was on my shoes. Did I move? Brush myself off? I didn’t want to disrespect the dead, but I couldn’t walk around with them on me either.

Not all of her ashes were on me. That actually made me feel better.

I was going to lift a boot, but the ashes were already dispersing. “Well, this isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had on me.”

Her laugh was almost maniacal. “I’m so sorry. I was just running out and—” She hiccuped, and her gaze darted away.

I finally absorbed her appearance. She was a head shorter than me, but still average height for a woman. Her mahogany curls fluttered in the breeze, and her brown eyes shimmered with tears. One spilled over.

Aw hell. Her mom. If the loss wasn’t recent, the grief was still hitting her.

“What’s your name?” I asked softly, suddenly wanting to know more of her story. If I knew something, maybe I could make it better.

“Sheridan.” A big drop spilled down her cheek, and she hastily swiped it away. “Sheridan Bishop.”

A recent news clip rose up in my head. The owner of Bishop’s Landing passed away not long ago. I had gone to school with some Bishops when I lived in Coal Haven. Two brothers. We hadn’t been in the same circle, and I hadn’t wanted much to do with the know-it-all boys who’d done their own thing. “I’m Jasper Duke.”

She nodded, her throat working up and down. A slight tremor went through her body. She was working hard to hold it together. Did I continue to distract her? I was too afraid to move, and I needed her guidance on what to do next.

She sniffled. “I used to go to school with some Dukes.”

“What a coincidence. My family lived in Coal Haven until I was twelve.”

She let out the softest laugh, then her gaze fell to my feet. The tears swam and more tracked down her cheeks.

My heart grew heavy. Sheridan was going through a hard time, and I was a part of it, whether I planned it or not. “It’s gonna be okay. Maybe Mama wanted to tell you to slow down.”

She laughed and hiccuped again. “Yeah, maybe. I’m sorry.” She crouched, and my dick did not care how inappropriate the timing was. She was cute and also curvy in her linen shorts and loose top.