“Deny? You want to talk about denial?”
He narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to retort but pausing. As if he realized what I was digging at.
But now my fury had built to an explosion. Matt, high and mighty, once again judging his best friend and everyone else instead of looking in the mirror for once. I spoke again, loudly. “How about the fact that you have fucking cancer, and you haven’t told me or Dad?”
Matt went pale, gripping the pew and staring at me as the room fell silent.
“Fuck you,” Matt said, as he moved toward the aisle. “You two deserve each other.”
And then he was gone, and all that was left was the silence.
END OF BOOK 4
Part V
Filthy Rage (Second Chance With My Brother's Best Friend, Book Five) by Paige North
Chapter 1
Landon’s shoulders were stiff, his hands balled up as he watched my brother stalk out. Matt shook his head, refusing to look back as he stormed away, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just done to him.
I’d just spilled his secret, the fact that he had cancer, in public. Yelled it at the top of my lungs, essentially.
My heart climbed up my throat but I couldn’t place the emotions swirling in my chest. Regret? Not exactly. I was sick of my brothers lies. Of the way he sat back and judged everyone, acted like he was perfect.
But I didn’t want to hurt him, either. I’d lashed out in a moment of frustration. This moment, in front of all these strangers, was the wrong one to choose.
The door swung shut behind him, cutting off the too-sunny skies. And then it was just the rest of us—too many people crammed into this space. There should’ve been a measure of quiet peace, a unity in the grief.
But instead this felt more like war, with no common enemy.
In the near-silence that followed my brother’s departure, the pews in the room creaked. The attention had returned to Landon, a few dozen pairs of eyeballs glued to the scene before them.
I could hear my own heartbeat, hear Landon’s raspy breathing as he tried to rein in his emotions.
“Landon,” his mother called, still standing at the podium.
I’d nearly forgotten her, short as she was, half-hidden behind the speaker’s stand. I wanted to be proud of her, for the way she held her head high, her shoulders square as she faced off with her son.
But there was also an uncertainty to her expression. A plea in her eyes. I wanted to ask her if she believed everything she’d just said about Landon’s father, or if she felt she had to say it. Maybe this eulogy was how she’d convinced herself she hadn’t spent three decades married to a monster.
“What?” Landan snapped at her. “Are we going to keep this charade going longer? Tell a few more lies?”
“Hey,” I whispered, gripping his arm. He turned to me, anger storming in his eyes. “Your mom’s not the enemy.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“Why don’t we just get out of here?” he said. “I think we’ve heard enough.”
He flicked a glance over his shoulder, to where his mom still stood at the podium. Even as he hated everything she was saying, I could see he didn’t want to leave her. His temper and his loyalty battled for space.
“Let’s just go,” I agreed, pushing his arm. I could tell this wasn’t going to get any better by sticking around. The damage had been done.
Landon glanced between me and his mom, as if debating. I knew I had pushed him to do this—to come here and lay his father to rest—but this wasn’t a funeral. It was a charade, and more lies wouldn’t help him heal.
I knew enough of his father to know that Landon’s version was the truth. I’d seen the split lips, the bruises, the back eye. Whatever his mother was saying up there, she might’ve wanted to believe it, but it wasn’t real.
And there was no point in the two of us listening any longer. We were a distraction, anyway—no one could look away from the two of us, standing near the front. If she wanted to keep up this act, if it made her feel better, it would be best if we weren’t here.
He nodded, stepping away from the benches and into the aisle. I followed him toward the door, but he hesitated at the back, his eyes turning cold.
I twisted around, taking in the image of Alexa walking up and putting a hand on his mother’s shoulder. As if to comfort her.
As if she gave a crap about Landon’s mother.
“She’s not worth it,” I said, pushing him toward the door again. Landon cursed under his breath, shaking his head and allowing me to lead him back out into the summer sun. The earlier rainclouds had burned off, leaving the pavement with a dark, wet sheen.
“Well that was a whole lot of bullshit,” he said, loosening his tie the moment we were out the door. “I knew she’d give it all a rose-colored tint, but I had no idea she’d fabricate everything.”