Saturday was spent distracting her dad. They watched movies, played board games, and dined at a favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The sadness in his eyes lingered, but she was there with him. She hoped it helped.

Sunday was different. It was the anniversary. They looked through old photo albums, reminisced, and visited the gravesite. This wasn't a time for distraction; it was a time to grieve, celebrating the lives cut short.

At the gravesite, she noticed wilted flowers, no more than a week old. She glanced at her dad. How often had he visited alone since she moved out? He must have been lonelier than she thought.

Kneeling before her family's graves, a thought struck her. Aaron had said he buried her with her family and visited weekly. How many times had he knelt there, just as she was now?

Her heart ached. He was much like her dad. He'd lost his best friend and a child—though he never met his child.

Twenty-seven years. If he visited weekly, that's roughly 1,400 visits. He'd spent more time there than she had in both lifetimes.

Was it guilt or love? After the past week, she suspected both.

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Had he ever spoken to her there, like she and her dad spoke to Monica and Kaleb? Did he miss her that much?

If so, his overbearingness in high school made sense. It was amazing he hadn't acted worse. If Keeley could see her mom or Kaleb again, even once, she would hold them tight and never let go.

Tears filled her eyes. She'd been unfair to him. Being rejected by someone you miss so deeply must be devastating. No wonder he acted like a jerk.

Robert, mistaking the reason for her tears, gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, honeybun."

Was it? Would it ever be? She was confused. She'd pushed Aaron away, believing there was no going back, but now she wavered, having considered his perspective.

Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed harder. What was she supposed to do? Conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her, compounding her grief on this already difficult day.

Keeley had to compose herself. This wasn't the time. She tried to stop crying, but the tears flowed.

"Hey Kal, my research is coming along well. The gene therapy is working on mice. Maybe someday it will work on kids like you too," she sniffed, touching his headstone. "And I went on the Twister recently with a friend. It reminded me of how you always urged me to go faster until we got dizzy. I miss you. I miss you both."

She broke down again. Aaron had been there when she spoke of her brother.

Why couldn't she get him out of her head? Was this her fate? Would she be perpetually tormented if she didn't accept it? There seemed no escape.

Giving in would be easier, but she didn't want to. Why? Pride? A refusal to let whatever force was at play win?

She had loved him once. If he continued to be good to hershe might fall for him again. That had been one of her arguments against moving in with him.

Her dad liked him. What would her mom and Kaleb think? Would he fit in with them?

Probably. He'd fit in with Robert because he loved her. He even wore those silly reindeer pajamas. Her mom would have found it hilarious.

Anger flared again. If she had to be reborn, couldn't it have been the day before that doctor's appointment? Why did only she get a second chance?

Monica was in her thirties, like Keeley had been. Kaleb was only ten. Why didn't they deserve to live again? Why did she have to grieve the loss of half her family twice?

It wasn't fair. This rebirth seemed designed to reunite Aaron and Keeley. Was that sufficient reason when her family wasn't?

She wanted to be angry with him, but he didn't choose this. He was as surprised as she was.

He didn't even die traumatically. Weren't reincarnation scenarios supposed to be for those who died traumatic deaths? Death by mugging certainly fits that bill!

She wiped her tears and leaned against her dad's shoulder. He didn't know her conflict. If he knew she was reborn but Monica and Kaleb weren'twould he be angry too? Would he feel cheated?

Keeley pushed those thoughts aside. They wouldn't help. What happened, happened, fair or not.

People died all the time, and she'd never heard of anyone else getting a "do-over." She had to make the best of it.

The problem was, she couldn't decide whether that meant accepting Aaron's sincerity or living the life she thought she was supposed to lead without him. Right now, she leaned toward accepting the inevitable. If fate kept pushing them together, wouldn't it be easier to let it happen?