The Row(82)

“And you never believed that he could really be guilty.” Jordan’s shoulders slump and I see the massive dark circles under his eyes. I can’t face the idea that what we had may be gone forever. I can’t look at him and see what trying to help me has done to him.

It hurts too much and I’m tired of all this pain.

“I think you should go now.” I push the tears away from my eyes before he can see and get to my feet.

He stands up immediately. “Don’t do this, Riley, please. I’m just worried. I’m scared that he’ll—”

“Come on,” I interrupt, and start moving toward the front door, waiting for him to follow me. When he doesn’t, I say, “We were idiots to think our differences wouldn’t rip us apart eventually.”

He follows me, but I can see the arguments he’s trying to formulate in his eyes as we walk and know that I need to get him out of here before I crumble completely.

“We’re too different and we’ve always been too different. Seeing you can only hurt me now … and you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Jordan stands on my front porch, his eyes filled with pain and worry. He reaches out, his fingers grasping my hand as it falls limp in his. “I don’t want to hurt you, Riley. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

“Please leave me alone. You’ll only make this worse.” I shut the door before he can say anything else, then I get as far away from the front door as I can so I won’t change my mind and try to take it all back. In my room, I close and lock the door, turn off the lights, and cry silently into my pillow until I fall asleep.





35

BENJAMIN MASTERS’S FUNERAL IS CROWDED with clients, secretaries, lawyers, judges, and cops. People from all sides of the law gather together and mourn him.

My black dress doesn’t keep me warm enough even with the sunlight heating up the fabric. I tightly clutch the yellow flower Mama gave me to place on the casket.

We sit with the people from the law firm. They hug us and tell us they’re happy about the news with Daddy’s case. When we turn away they whisper about how Stacia “wasn’t ever quite right.” They say Mr. Masters must’ve figured out it was Stacia and decided to confront her. More whispers come next, calling him something none would have dared say to his face: “An old fool for trying to take on a killer by himself.” It reminds me of some of the things they’d whispered about Daddy during his trial, and I have to grit my teeth not to respond the way I want to.

I want to stand up, turn to them, and then scream in their faces, You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! So would you please shut up?

Mama and I both bring yellow roses to put on his casket. First, because Mr. Masters always argued that the yellow rose should be the state flower. Second, because they symbolize friendship and we both agree that our family has never had a better friend.

I stand over his casket and put my hand on the cold silver metal that is so unlike Ben Masters. His thick, warm drawl will always comfort me, and his quick wit and intelligence are impossible to contain in such a small box. I hate knowing he’s in there, knowing we lost him—knowing I lost him.

Mama walks up beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. Bending closer, she whispers in my ear, “You have to stop blaming yourself.”

I look up at her and my eyes fill with tears again. “He wanted to meet me, to tell me something, Mama. He wouldn’t have even been there if it weren’t for me.”

“Investigating your daddy’s case is what got him in trouble. And that’s his job. This isn’t about you, honey.” She leans over and kisses my forehead. She smells like fresh flowers, and her eyes are clear. I’ve been watching closely, and I don’t think she’s had a drop to drink since the night she was fired. She was actually offered a job yesterday working as an executive assistant with a large accounting firm. She’ll be starting next Wednesday. She’s excited about it because the atmosphere is more relaxed, and she thinks she’ll be able to be home more, which sounds pretty great to me.

Maybe everything will turn around for us now. Maybe we’ll finally get that fresh start we’ve always needed.

I feel someone staring and search the crowd. Jordan’s brown eyes watch me from a few rows back on the other side of Mr. Masters’s grave. He stands next to Chief Vega. They’re both among a group of other officers. The chief nods to Mama, but I can’t take my eyes off of Jordan. He looks incredible in his black suit and it makes my heart jump around inside my chest. His eyes are full of all the things I want to see. They’re warm and welcoming, and I can see even from this far away that he misses me, too. I want to run to him. It takes all of my willpower not to sprint over and wrap my arms around him.

In the three days since I asked him to go, it’s been so hard not to pick up the phone and call or text him. I miss everything about him.

His father leans over and whispers something to him. Frowning, Jordan turns, and the spell is broken. I’m reminded of all the reasons our most important differences will prevent me from ever being with him again.

Dropping my shoulders, I stretch my back as I try to clear the longing out of my bones. I whisper to Mama, “Can we please go?”

She doesn’t say a word, but I see her look up at Jordan before she takes my elbow and leads me toward the car. His eyes are on me again like a weight as I walk away, and my steps feel harder and heavier because of it. By the time we get to Mama’s car, I’m trying hard to keep myself together. Once we’re a few minutes into the drive, Mama looks at me with sadness in her eyes.