Out of My Mind (COMPLETED)

Epilogue

Mia's POV

Three months later...

"Are you sure you're ready to do this? We don't have to," I tell Brayden, warily.

He takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm sure." He holds his hand out for me to place the deep wood box, housing a portion of Alastair's ashes.

I hand him the box and watch him, intently. His lip is pulled between his teeth and his hands only shake slightly as he unlatches the lid, opening it. Settled inside are the greyish-colored ashes of a man who we both looked up to and adored.

After grabbing a handful, Brayden hands me the box back. His thick eyelashes rest upon his tan cheeks as the wind whips around us. When people called Chicago the Windy City, I didn't believe them. Now, I have no choice but to believe them. It's windy as hell here.

It's the middle of August, now. Unlike bloody hot Los Angeles, Chicago is a different kind of hot. Los Angeles is a dry, desert kind of hot whereas here in Chicago, it actually feels like ninety-two degrees and there's a breeze.

Brayden and I planned on coming to Chicago once Elliott finished building Compound #2, so he decided that it would only make sense to spread Alastair's ashes while we were already here. Bray thought it would be what Alastair wanted, to be spread around the land of the compound, since Alastair loved this city almost as much as he loved Bray. We both know he would want to be a part of this.

Taking another deep breath, Brayden's eyes open and he throws the ashes into the air in front of him. A piece of my heart chips off as I watch a tear slide down Brayden's cheek.

I curl my hand around his bicep, leaning my head on his shoulder as a tear of my own strays from my eye. "He loved you so much, you know that?" I ask, my voice as soft as the ashes lying in the box.

My head moves up and down as he breathes, trying to hold himself together. His breathing grows deeper and deeper until there are seconds between each exhale and inhale.

"He's probably laughing down at me," Brayden whispers, distantly as if he's reciting a memory. "Why are you crying, son? he would say. Don't you know that only princesses cry?" Another tear slides down his cheek as he chuckles to himself. I crack a smile.

"Remember when I made dinner for you guys?" I say, laughing quietly. "I still don't understand how you didn't know who Betty Crocker was."

"Hey! You heard what Dad said, I lived on TV dinners for the longest time," Brayden remarks, sternly before busting out laughing.

I laugh so hard I snort. "I hope I've at least taught you something."

"Yes, you taught me how to turn on a stove."

I completely lose it and begin laughing harder than I ever have. If I wasn't holding on to Brayden's bicep, I'd be rolling on the green grass beneath our feet.

Soon, Brayden's laughing just as hard as I am. The melody of our laughs combined float off into the wind, creating a beautiful sound.

It takes us a few minutes to calm down after our laughing outburst, but when we do, we stand in comfortable silence.

"Want to spread the rest?" I gesture to the box in my right hand.

"Yeah," Brayden replies, grabbing a handful from the open box. He walks a couple steps and then throws the ashes into the air. I do the same. We both take handfuls and then throw them until nothing is left in the box.

I wipe my hands on the back of my jean shorts and once I've made sure all of the remnants from the ashes are off my hands, I turn around to face Brayden. A gasp falls from my lips at the sight of my bashful, smiling boyfriend holding a small black box in his large hands.