He shrugs, his hands at his sides.

“But how did you know—”

“Dylan.”

I bow my head, not for a moment of silence, but for a moment of clarity. My knees go weak and I collapse to the dirt, my hands over my eyes as I release every single emotion possible.

Sadness.

Longing.

Heartbreak.

Fear.

Grief.

Then I look up when I hear Jake’s footsteps moving toward me. He sits beside me, his head lowered and his arms resting on his raised knees. His gaze is distant when he says, “Sometimes I have these moments where I look at myself and my life and I realize how good I have it. I’ve never had to experience the kind of loss you have. I’ve never had my heart truly broken, never had my life ripped out of my hands, never had to deal with devastating news that would ultimately change the course of my future. And sometimes I think I don’t belong. Like I’m an imposter in an unforgivable world and I keep waiting for something bad to happen to me directly and nothing does.” He pauses a beat. “Not that I’m not grateful for that,” he adds quickly. “I’m just saying I wish I had something better to say, or a piece of advice that would somehow help you in this situation. But I don’t. The only thing I can say is that while it’s hard to watch the people you love suffer… loving them during those times is easy.” He turns to me. “So that’s why I’m here, Riley. Because you’re one of us. And we love you.”

Another sob.

Another round of tears.

He throws his arm around my shoulders, bringing me to him as he continues to speak. I try to listen; try to pay attention, even though my cries make it almost impossible. “You know the phrase actions speak louder than words?”

I wipe my cheeks. “I know it well,” I tell him. Facta Non Verba.

“That was my motto when it came to Dylan.”

“Because he was so silent?”

Jake nods. “He never voiced it, but I could tell something was up the few weeks leading up to him enlisting. It was hard to get him to speak when we were with the others and college didn’t give us much free time to catch up on our own. So one day I loosened a spark plug on my truck and called him to have a look at it. I could tell he knew what I’d done as soon as he popped the hood, but he didn’t mention it. He just kept fiddling with the engine because he knew I wanted to talk and I knew he’d let me. I knew if I asked if he were okay he’d nod and move on so I chose my words carefully. I asked him if he was happy.”

I face him. “What did he say?”

He turns to me. “He said he was happy enough, but I could tell he wanted more because he stopped his task and just stared at nothing for a long time. Then I finally asked him if happy enough was good enough. He shook his head and without another word, he replaced my spark plug and dropped the hood. The next time I saw him was the day before he left for basic. The others don’t know this but he showed up at my house the next morning and asked that I ride with him back home to his dad’s house. He spoke more to me on that two-hour drive than all the years I’d known him. He admitted to hating college, he admitted to falling out of love with Heidi and he admitted that for the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to something.”

I sniff once. “So you’re telling me this to remind me that he’s not here for a good reason?”

“No.” Jake smiles—the same sad smile he greeted me with. “I’m telling you this because I was there. I was there when he said goodbye to his friends. I was there when he told his dad he was leaving. I was there when he got on the bus for the first time, waving goodbye to us and to his old life. And I can tell you, for certain, that his actions were louder than his words the day he said goodbye to you. He didn’t find his more than enough by enlisting and deploying, Riley. He found it in you.”

We stand at the edge of the cliff, hand in hand, staring at the calm of the horizon. “You ready?” Jake asks.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

I face him, nod, and through the giant lump in my throat, I ask, “You think Dylan would be proud of me?”

Jake smiles. “Riley, Dylan would be proud of you regardless.”

I inhale deeply. Then, “One. Two. Three.”

We jump.

We fall.

There’s no resistance. Just air surrounding me until I’m submerged, the warmth of the water filling my mouth and my ears. I open my eyes, squinting, searching for him. His hand takes mine, his smile wide beneath the blue of the lake as streams of sunlight create a show of lights. His hand stays with mine as we swim up, gasping for air as soon as we’re clear.

Then the water in my ears is replaced with shouts and cheers and my name being called from the embankment. Our friends stand at the edge, their fists raised in triumph. “Yeah, Riley!” Lucy shouts, her hands cupped around her mouth.

I look over at Jake, but he just smiles. “We’re all here for you, Riley.”

“Are you going again?” Logan shouts as we swim to shore. He’s already shrugging out of his clothes. They all are, though Kayla struggles with Bacon in her arms.

I nod. My smile matching Jake’s from just a minute ago. “I think I am.”

We take The Leap a few more times, each time getting easier. And we spend the afternoon talking, laughing and swimming in the lake with Bacon.

They’ve even brought a portable grill so I think they plan on staying for a while.