Ready for You (Ready #3)(44)

I should have ended on an uplifting note like the rest of my family had, but I couldn’t speak anymore. If I did, I’d break down, and I didn’t want to do that in front of an entire church full of people.

I took the stairs one at a time, and each one felt like another nail in the coffin—final and irreversible.

The rest of the funeral passed in a blur of sobs and tears. All I remember is Mia’s warm hand in mine, and the immense feeling of peace it gave me. I didn’t know what I’d do when she left tonight.

Chapter Fifteen

~Mia~

Garrett hadn’t said a single word so far on the way back to his apartment from the funeral. He just blankly stared out the window, watching the leafy green trees pass by in a blur while I drove his car. The lines etched in his face and the dark grooves under his eyes explained what I already knew.

He was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

It had been a long day. After the funeral service, the family had driven out to the gravesite, and they had a private service. There was no big funeral procession stopping traffic and involving police. Just the family and minister were in attendance. Garrett had explained that his father wasn’t big on showy ordeals, and he would have hated all the fuss. The service alone would have been considered over the top, but his mother had known the many people who had loved him needed to mourn. So, they’d gone with a large funeral and a quiet graveside service.

Not once through the entire day had Garrett allowed himself to cry, even as they lowered his father’s casket into the ground. There were several times I’d caught him pinching the bridge of his nose or squeezing his eyes shut as if he was forcing the tears away. Why he wouldn’t just allow himself to let go, I’d never understand. No one in his family would have judged him for that. Everyone in that room had cried, including myself, and it had been years since I’d seen Thomas Finnegan. He used to make me turkey sandwiches and sweet tea on Saturday afternoons when I’d sit in the garage, watching Garrett work on his car. He was still one of the most dedicated fathers I’d ever known.

“You missed the turn,” Garrett muttered quietly, pointing to the street sign.

He was right. I was two blocks past where I should have turned.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t been paying attention.

I flipped us around at the next block and managed to get us parked and settled in front of his large apartment building a few minutes later. I didn’t know how I got a parking spot right in front, but I thanked the parking gods for the gift. I quickly locked the door and handed Garrett his keys.

My car was parallel-parked about three blocks down. This was the joy of living in this area of town. It was always a game of hide-and-seek when it came to parking. Finding the right spot was a constant challenge.

“Why don’t you come up for a bit?” he suggested. He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched a car pass by.

It wasn’t quite nighttime yet, so if I left now, I wouldn’t have to walk to my car in the dark, but I was finding it hard to say no. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Sure,” I answered.

He let me lead as he trailed behind me. We took the two flights of stairs up to his apartment, and the entire way I felt his eyes on me. Even from behind, I knew his eyes were traveling every inch of me, and my skin prickled into goose bumps at the thought.

His door was the second to the right. I waited while he fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He was pressed up so tightly behind me that I could feel every hard line of his body, and I swore I heard him inhale, like he was smelling my hair. My heart kicked into overdrive at his nearness, but then he took a step forward and opened the door. Relieved for the distraction, I followed and let my nerves settle.

No other man in my life could set my body ablaze like Garrett Finnegan. One heated gaze, and I was on fire. One single touch, and I was begging for more. When I was young, I’d never questioned it. He was my ever after, and I loved the way he made me feel. Leaving him, knowing everything I was giving up, had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

But now, returning and finding myself still hostage to his touch, was the worst kind of agony imaginable. Knowing my heart belonged to someone I couldn’t have felt like walking through life with half of my soul missing.

I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter separating the tiny kitchen from the equally small living space. The entire apartment was pint-sized. With Garrett’s six-foot-plus size, he looked like he was standing in the middle of a hobbit hole.

“Have you lived here long?” I asked, noticing the absence of wall art or decorations.

There was a black couch pushed up against the far wall with a small end table standing next to it. The end table was littered with black-and-white drawings. Some were shoved into notebooks and others were stacked into messy piles. Now, I knew what Garrett did with his free time.

“Since I moved back from college,” he answered.

I chalked his lack of decorative skills to the fact that he was male, but it felt like he’d never really settled, or he’d refused to.

“Do you want a drink?” He shuffled through a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

I cocked my eyebrow, remembering the state he had been in this morning when I arrived.

He quickly defended himself. “One drink,” he clarified.