She swallowed hard when more of the information Marcella’d relayed sank further into her murky brain. “I’ll never see Clyde in this life again. Ever.” The whisper of that word swirled in ominous echoes.
Marcella’s angular, perfectly structured face was the most somber Delaney’d ever seen it. “No, honey. No, you won’t.”
“Will you hang around . . . after we ...”Delaney heard the desperation in her voice, she tasted it on her tongue, but she had no desire to hide it or the weakness it revealed.
“Of course I will, silly. Not even that arrogant, pigheaded brother of yours could keep me away from you. And he’s fine, by the way. I peeked in on him when he wasn’t looking because I figured you’d worry about him and he’d only freak if he knew I was watching his cranky ass.” She held out a hand to Delaney, taking her trembling, cold fingers between hers and rubbing them with a brisk motion.
“As long as I still have you . . .”
“Oh, D. You’ll always have me. Maybe even longer than you planned if I’m stuck like this for eternity. Demons are forever, right?” she teased, chucking Delaney under the chin. “So Clyde . . .”
“What about him?”
“You like him,” she said again, as if reminding her wasn’t like rubbing salt in a million open wounds.
Delaney’s throat grew tight once more. “It’ll be okay. He’ll hit the great beyond and find some hot chick with big, honkin’ wings who knows all about how to make a bomb from dental floss and nail polish remover or something.”
Yet Marcella’s face didn’t crack the smile Delaney’d hoped for. “Don’t make jokes. This hurts you. I hate that. In all the years I’ve known you, nothing would’ve pleased me more than for you to find your Prince Charming. Have kids so I could be Auntie Marcella to human beings instead of dogs. If this could be any other way, if I had the power . . . but just so you know, I’m here. When this is over, I’m here.”
Delaney let her head fall to her chest. There was no way to hide the tears that fell in fat droplets to the bathroom floor she and Marcella stood on. She needed to gather herself together so she could give Clyde the send-off he deserved. With a smile—with the kind of joy one should have for finding peace on the other side.
For eternity.
But it hurt far worse than any other pain she’d ever experienced. It was different from the pain of losing her parents—different from the pain she’d suffered losing Gary.
Yet it was as raw, as real, as undeniably agonizing as any kind of torture could be. Counting the minutes until they had to take Clyde off life support in the hope that it would free his soul and she could cross him over was like playing Russian roulette—just waiting for the bullet to explode from the barrel of the gun.
Marcella put her arms around Delaney, pulling her into them to offer her ever-strong support. She surprised Delaney often, but her offer of physical comfort shocked her even more. Marcella hated crying; she said it was messy and did horrible things to your complexion.
The stream of tears she shed flooded Marcella’s leather jacket, but she managed to choke out an admission that out loud cut far deeper than keeping it inside. “Jesus Christ. Yes. Yes, I like him. Damn it. I like him. The dogs like him. And I don’t want him to go. I want to—”
Marcella squeezed harder. “Get to know him better. I know. But maybe—and I’m just throwing this out there—maybe this attraction is based solely on the fact that he’s the first man who’s been in your life in almost fifteen years.”