A Father's Name(17)

“I don’t know, but I’m here, willing to listen when you’re ready to tell me about Mellie and Jason, or about how you went to jail. I’m here.” She took his hand. “And as for those butt-munches in there, you’re better than all of them.”

“I can’t talk anymore.”

“Yeah, I get that, too. So, come on, we’re going back in. You’ve got friends. You’re not alone.”

“Angel, you don’t understand.”

“But I will someday. It doesn’t have to be today. Unless you want to tell me more?”

He shook his head.

“Then I’ll wait. For now. Come on.”

As they started back into the funeral home, Bart came across the parking lot. “Sorry, Tyler. I’d’ve been here sooner, but my ride from school had detention and I had to scramble to find someone else who’d drive me into Erie.”

Tucker put her arm around her son. “Come on, let’s get Tyler back into his family. They’re going to need him.”

She led him back into the funeral home, and glared at all the people who parted for them. She glanced at her father and the guys from the shop and she knew if something happened to her, they’d be the first ones there to support her. If she was accused of a crime, they wouldn’t believe it. And if she told them she’d done it, they’d be the first ones trying to defend her.

She walked past her dad and friends, past the line of people to the front where Jason’s mother and father stood. Jace spotted her and squirmed to get down, then toddled his way like a drunken sailor in her direction. “Hey, munchkin,” she murmured, scooping him up.

“Tyler. There you are,” Mrs. Matthews said. “Come stand with us. You know most of Jason’s friends. We don’t.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Matthews, I’m Tucker. A friend of Tyler’s. I never had a chance to meet your son, but knowing who he chose to spend his time with, well, I have no doubt that not knowing him is my loss. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, you’re the woman who kept Jace for us. I don’t know how to thank you, dear. Tyler said he was taken care of, and knowing that—not having to worry about him—was a comfort. Thank you.” The grey-haired woman swept Tucker into a hug. “We’re lucky our Tyler has a friend like you.”

Tucker didn’t know what to do or say, so she settled for, “Why don’t I take Jace with me and let Tyler look after you for a while.”

Mrs. Matthews eyed her grandson who was happily plucking at Tucker’s hair, playing with the curls.

“Thank you.”

Mr. Matthews extended his hand, and shook hers, repeating his wife’s words.

With the baby in her arms, she sidestepped the grieving family and moved in front of the casket. This was Jason Matthews. Tyler’s friend. Jace’s father. She’d never met the man, but she felt a wave of sadness at his passing. He was loved. That was as good a legacy as anyone could leave. He was loved and he was missed.

She bowed her head, offered a prayer for this man who’d been such a good friend to Tyler, then took the baby to the back of the room. Jace squirmed, indicating he wanted down, and the second his foot touched the ground, he made a beeline back through the crowd to her father, Bart and the guys from the shop. He babbled and giggled, and was quickly picked up and passed from one man to another.

Tucker watched the scene and realized she was tearing up, which was ridiculous. But she looked over at Tyler. Mrs. Matthews was standing between him and her husband, one arm around each man, clinging to them as if they were a lifeline. Tyler stood stoic at her side as one after another, people approached and paid their condolences to Jason’s parents and practically ignored the fact Tyler was even there. He seemed to accept their reactions as his due, which bothered her even more.

And that’s when she did cry. She blinked furiously to hold back the tears, but one escaped anyway, and she brushed it from her cheek.



TYLER DIDN’T KNOW HOW he was going to repay Angelina. She’d stayed at the funeral home all evening, supposedly to help with Jace, while in reality he was pretty sure she was watching out for him.

At least half a dozen times she appeared at his side like some tiny watchdog and took his hand, smiling at people who used to be his friends and forcing them to acknowledge he existed. He’d have preferred living in anonymity, but her staunch defense was so genuinely offered, he couldn’t say anything.