Chapter 23
I never knew pain could hurt so bad that it made you numb. That the pain could cut so deep it took every bit of emotion out of you, just sucked it right out. That was what I was feeling. Empty. Bottomless.
I didn’t cry that night.
Not when Reece took me back to his place. Not when he helped me undress or when he got me in bed. Not even when he wrapped his arms around me and held me until I fell asleep.
The weekend and the days coming after that phone call were a blur. Jax gave me the week off from the bar, and I hadn’t even pretended to fight his decision. My head wasn’t in the right place to be working with the public. My head wasn’t anywhere it needed to be.
I didn’t cry when I went to the facility on Tuesday to get all the paintings and the little personal mementos I’d loaded Charlie’s room up with. Three large boxes went out, placed side by side in the back of Reece’s truck. I didn’t cry, not even when I saw his empty bed. Not even when I learned that he’d gone in his sleep from an aneurysm. Not when I discovered that he’d died alone.
There would be no autopsy and the funeral was scheduled for Thursday. I couldn’t believe it was going to happen so soon, as if his parents were waiting for this to happen, as if the grave had been dug all those years ago and was just waiting to be filled.
I didn’t cry when Reece took me to my apartment or when I stacked the paintings I’d done for Charlie in the corner of my studio. Nor did I really notice that my place had been wired for security, all the windows and doors. Actually, I did notice but I just didn’t care.
It was Thursday morning, as I slipped on the only pair of black dress pants that I owned and were now a little too loose, that I noticed Reece hadn’t gone to work at all this week. Smoothing my hair back into a low ponytail, I squinted at my reflection. The purple streak had faded, becoming barely noticeable. What was glaringly visible were the dark shadows under my eyes.
Slipping my glasses on, I left Reece’s bathroom. He was in the kitchen, fixing his black tie. Freshly shaven and shoulders broad in his suit, he looked good. Real good. I guessed that even though I felt so incredibly hollow, all my lady bits were still functioning.
He looked up, his head tilting to the side as he studied me. We really hadn’t talked much since Saturday. It wasn’t for lack of him trying. Obviously, he’d been here this entire time without me even asking. The same with the funeral. Not once did I ask him to go, but he was ready before me, and I lo—I appreciated him for that.
I stopped at the edge of the kitchen counter. “You’ve been taking off time from work.”
Reece nodded slowly as he fixed the cuffs on his suit. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to be alone.”
The burn in my chest was renewed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I have the time. Plus everyone is understanding.” He came around the counter, stopping in front of him. His eyes searched mine intently. “I go back to my shift next week.”
I swallowed—swallowed hard. “Thank you. You’ve been . . . you’ve been so good about everything.”
Reece cupped my cheeks with both hands. “Babe, that’s just what someone does in this situation.” His thumbs trailed along my cheekbones, a gesture I looked forward to. “I’m here for you.”
My gaze flicked away and then I squeezed my eyes shut as he hauled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I was stiff for a moment. I wasn’t even sure why, but then I clung to him, my fingers clawing through the clothes to get a piece of him—to hold a piece of him.
“It’s not fair,” I murmured against his chest.
He pressed a kiss against the top of my head. “No, it’s not.”
Chest aching, I pulled away from him and drew in a deep breath that didn’t seem to loosen the pressure wrapping around me. “I’m ready,” I told him.
That was a lie.
I think he knew that.
The service was held at a funeral home situated in the middle of a cemetery the size of a small town. With its winding roads and tall, graceful oaks that still had all their leaves, it truly was a calm place. Peaceful. Beautiful in a morbid way.
Mom and Dad were already there, waiting outside, along with Gordon and Thomas. Megan stood next to her husband, her hand resting lightly on her swollen belly. All of them, even Gordon, hugged me, and I wished they wouldn’t. I wished they’d greeted me like they’d greeted Reece, with a handshake or a nod. I could deal with that.
“Honey,” Mom murmured, kissing my forehead. Tears gathered in her eyes. “There really isn’t anything I can say right now to make this better.”
“I know,” I whispered, pulling away and squinting up at the cloudless sky. Too pretty of a day for a funeral, I thought. I glanced at my dad, who looked as uncomfortable in dress pants and shirt as Gordon did.
Dad caught my stare, and I saw the bone-deep sadness in his otherwise steady gaze. Charlie had been like a third son to him, to both of my parents. I knew this was hurting them, too.
“Walk with me, baby,” he urged, and I went over to my dad’s side. He draped an arm over my shoulder as he guided me through the double doors.
Reece stayed close behind me as I tried not to breathe too deeply. I hated the smell of funeral homes. The mixture of floral and something else I really didn’t want to think about.
I was surprised when I recognized the two people signing the guest book. Jax and Calla were here. “Hey,” I said, voice low as I stepped ahead of my father. “Guys, I . . .”
Calla approached me, smiling sadly. “The rest of the gang couldn’t make it, but I was able to skip class today.”
“You didn’t have to come,” I told them.
“We know,” replied Jax. He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
I was literally moved beyond words. Never knew what that felt like before. Totally got it now. They didn’t know Charlie, never had the pleasure of knowing him, but they were here, for me.
All of us piled into the large room where the service was being held, and I sat between my dad and Reece, staring straight ahead. The casket was closed, and Charlie’s parents were sitting up front, their backs straight through the whole shebang. Part of me knew that I should make an attempt to go talk to them, but so much festered inside me. I was never close to them, never comfortable in their sterile and rigid home. I remembered how they treated Charlie, like he was something to be ashamed of.
That wasn’t fair either, because Charlie knew how they felt.
When the service finally drew to a close, tears streaked my mother’s face and my father’s eyes were glassy. I couldn’t cry. My eyes were broken. That frustrated me as I rose from the uncomfortable pew. The burning was there, in my chest and throat, and had been there since the phone call, but it was like something had broken off deep inside me.
Reece’s hand landed on the small of my back and moved in a slow, comforting circle as we waited our turn to step into the center aisle. The urge to turn and wrap my arms around him was hard to ignore.
On our way out, I thought I caught a glimpse of Henry slipping out one of the side doors. That pressure thickened in me as I stared at where I thought he’d been. I wasn’t sure how to feel about Henry coming to Charlie’s funeral. A few weeks ago I would’ve been spitting mad, like puking green vomit and head-spinning level of rage, but now? I almost wanted to laugh—the hysterical never-ending kind of laugh. I wanted to sit down in the middle of the funeral home and laugh.
“Babe, you okay?” Reece asked.
I nodded slowly, realizing I was probably rocking one hell of a crazy face.
He took my hand in his and squeezed gently. “We can take a couple of minutes if you want.”
God, he was . . . so good to me.
“I’m okay,” I said, and I think everyone within a ten-mile radius knew that wasn’t the case at all, but Reece held my hand tight as we started out of the funeral home.
The walk out to the gravesite was as quiet as one would expect such a thing to be. Our group stood near the back, and when I saw the hearse arrive, I looked away hastily. My gaze landed on the grave.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and all I got was the suffocating scent of rich soil. This was really happening. This was it. No more trips on Friday. No more hope that one day Charlie would get better, that he’d look at me and say my name.
That he’d tell me that all of this wasn’t my fault.
Oh God. A slight tremble rocked my body, starting in my toes pinched due to the too-tight black heels, coursing all the way up the tips of my fingers.
Reece let go of my hand and slipped his arm over my shoulder. He bowed his head, pressing his lips against my temple, and my heart squeezed even more, clenched to the point I wondered if I was having a heart attack.
Instead of standing at Charlie’s funeral, I saw myself standing at Reece’s. Might’ve sounded crazy, but because of his line of work, it was believable. One day I could be standing right here and saying good-bye to him.
I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.
Pain sliced through me. I couldn’t do this anymore. I turned to Reece, saying just that.
“Okay. I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, and I knew he didn’t get it. He couldn’t get it. He turned to my father, speaking too low for me to hear. My dad nodded, and then without saying a word, Reece steered me away from the graveside service.
I was walking fast, my hands balled into tight fists by the time we reached his truck. When we were both inside, I stared out the windshield as Reece drove and once we were back at his condo, I wasn’t feeling empty. I was feeling wild, like an animal snared in a trap.
I knew what I needed to do.
Being with Reece could easily end up with me being utterly destroyed, beyond the point of repair. For a sweet, brief time I convinced myself that I could deal with that. I could let myself fall for him and it would be worth that risk. Standing there at Charlie’s grave was a brutal wake up call.
I had to have the strength to walk away.
Sliding past Reece, I headed straight to his bedroom, where my suitcase and tote were next to the dresser. I took my glasses off, placing them atop the dresser and then pulled my hair up into a quick bun.
“Roxy?”
Not turning around, I kicked off my heels. “Yes?”
“You’re not okay right now.”