Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(118)
Kate gazed up at him again. “And you’re meeting our parents for the first time at a funeral?”
Adam shrugged and gave me his attention. “Seems so.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any single brothers, or do I have to run to Macy’s?”
Adam squeezed my fingers. “I’ve got three single brothers, actually.”
“Three?” she said, her voice etched with hope.
I don’t think she was expecting that answer. “I can’t let Nick ever know that.” Her hand shook a bit, reaching back up to fuss with her scarf.
I immediately started cataloging her appearance and outward symptoms. I hadn’t seen her in a few months, but she surely would have told Mom if she’d had another seizure. “Have you been feeling okay?”
“Huh? Um, yeah. Yeah,” she stammered and then blanched that I’d even ask.
I caught Adam scrutinizing her too, though I suppose there were detectives ingrained in both of us. I could see our concern was making her uncomfortable. She was retreating into her own protective bubble. I was used to it, as it was a trait we both shared. Adam, however, was surely questioning my sister’s demeanor.
“Mom will want to know you’re here.”
“Maybe we should get in line,” Adam suggested, motioning with his head.
“I’ll see you in there then,” Kate murmured. “It was nice meeting you, Adam.” She quickly leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, barely making eye contact with Adam as she hurried back through the pillared threshold.
Adam was quite cordial and charismatic as we made small talk with the older couple in front of us. It was easier to distract myself that way then to watch my mom sitting front and center across from Uncle Cal’s open casket, weeping.
The burn in my throat was becoming unmanageable.
Adam put his arm around my shoulders and turned me so I was facing the heavy floral draperies instead.
I took a calming breath when I felt his lips press into my forehead.
“Thank you for being here.”
He leaned his ear closer. “Sorry. What?”
I looked into his eyes, hoping with every fiber of my soul that his sweetness wasn’t just a cruel ruse. “Thank you for being here.”
His receptive smile warmed me but then it quickly faltered. “No problem.”
I leaned into him and chewed on my thumbnail, wishing I could disappear into the protectiveness of his broad chest.
Adam shuffled us forward a few steps and pulled my hand from my mouth, holding me firmly by the wrist. “You keep gnawing like that you’re going to make yourself bleed.”
But I was frustrated and bordering on emotional overload. “There’s something fundamentally wrong with how we parade ourselves past the dead like this.”
“I know,” Adam murmured and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s all about closure. Sometimes it’s just not enough.”
I studied everything while trying not to focus on the gleaming black casket adorned with an abundant spray of red and white roses. As soon as I spotted it, the ripping sorrow came back with renewed force.
I got that we needed to have closure; we need to have that final moment where denial and anger turns into acceptance, but for many, including myself, this experience was like pouring acid into the gaping wound.
Adam nudged me again to move us along.
I held my breath and the urge to sob, taking my moment to say my final goodbyes to a man who’d been like a second father to me.
I touched his graying hair, feeling how cold and still he was beneath my fingertips. How many deaths I’d witnessed in the ER, never allowing my mind to go beyond the clinical to the aftermath. “I’ll miss you. Watch over us, Uncle Cal. No more suffering.” I reached to touch his exposed hand; that’s when I noticed the slender, ornately carved wooden box clutched to his chest.
He was holding my Aunt Karen’s remains next to his heart.
My stoic fa?ade crumbled, taking my knees out with it. Adam seized me around my waist, supporting me with his strength. He, too, was becoming emotional, appearing both extremely sorrowful and yet somehow resolved.
As I stepped into my mom’s embrace, I thought I heard Adam say, “I’m sorry we failed you.” I thought he was greeting my father, so I was surprised to see his head bowed, gripping the edge of my uncle’s casket.
I WAS LOST in my thoughts while the miles of highway clicked by; the streetlights’ glow fractured by layers of growing fog hovering in the dark sky. I presumed Adam could sense I was in no mood to converse; I gathered he wasn’t either. We’d exchanged a few glances but that had been the extent of it since we left the funeral home.
My parents had accepted Adam with open arms, which I knew they would. His presence actually provided a wonderful buffer, giving my mother not only a reason to smile but a renewed sense of hope that all was not lost with the love life of her eldest daughter. While he’d been open and receptive to meeting a good portion of my extended family, Adam had been in his own sullen mood, making me worry that maybe this was too much on our new relationship.
He didn’t seem to appreciate being introduced as my friend, either, frowning or doing a small eye-roll each time, but I didn’t know if he’d run for the hills if I started to publicly refer to him as my boyfriend. Men were so fickle and I was used to walking on eggshells. The combination made me leery to place a label on us. After all, every guy I’d dated in college who just wanted to “chill” or “hang out” really meant they wanted a label-free relationship with a clean exit strategy. And Doctor Randy Mason had been the last grand reminder that even months of sex did not equal a future.