Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(68)

and the counters are wiped clean, I dry my hands and turn for the living room; Bo’s figure in the doorway startles me.

“Jesus!” I scream, my fatigue causing me to be jumpier than usual.

“Sorry.” He lets the fleetest of grins escape his mouth. “Thank you for taking care of all of this, Ember.” Bo gestures across

the kitchen.

“Of course. You should go get some sleep, if you can. I have no idea how tomorrow will be, but sleep can’t hurt.” I walk toward

him and pick a piece of string off his shirt.

He grabs my hand and holds it to his lips. My eyes follow the length of my arm, up my fingertips, where I stare at his lips as they

press against my skin.

His lips tingle against my knuckles as he talks, his eyes closed. “Thank you for staying tonight.”

“You need to stop thanking me, Bo,” I whisper because, without realizing it, my mouth’s run dry under his touch.

Dropping my hand, Bo reaches for my face. New emotion fills his recently void eyes; intention bleeds through his gaze. With his

free hand, he brushes my hair away from my shoulders before leaning down and stroking my neck with his nose, making a home for his

lips just beneath my jaw. He has to feel my goosebumps beneath his lips.

“Will you come up with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”





Chapter Thirty-One



The morning of the funeral is slow chaos. I’m showered and ready for whatever I’m supposed to do before Bo wakes up. He passed

out with his head on my chest last night. I was awake most of the night, listening to him breathe. David arrived at the house early

to help manage the people who are using the Cavanaugh residence as a staging area. They all mean well, these people I’ve never

seen or heard of before. It makes me feel like an outsider that they all know Bo and Rae so well. Some of the older ones call him

Spencer, like David does. I chuckle a little at how pissed I was the first day he showed up at my office using that name.

David catches me alone, staring out a living room window. “How are you doing, Sweetheart?”

His warm embrace really does feel like a father’s, and it makes me miss mine. My stomach sinks as I realize I haven’t called my

parents.

“My parents are out of town, and I totally forgot to call them.” David lets go as I walk outside, my cellphone shaking between my

fingers.

My dad answers my mom’s phone and I’m reduced to tears. “Hey Baby Blue! Your mother and I were just talking about you. Sweetie?

Are you OK?” He can hear my sobs.

“It’s Rae...Bo’s sister...She died—” It’s the first time I’ve said “she died.”

I stumble my way through the details when, in a salty haze of tears, I spot Monica’s car crawling up the driveway.

“I’ve gotta go, Dad. Please tell Mom ...”

“Of course, Honey. I wish there was something I could do. I hate that you’re hurting like this.”

I hang up and let my phone slide out of my hands and tumble down the stairs. Monica stares at it for a second before shrugging and

sitting next to me. She combs her fingers through my air-dried waves.

“Want me to straighten this for you? Here are your clothes, by the way. I picked that black seersucker you never wear, that way

you don’t have to wear it ever again.”

“Thanks. Where’s Regan?”

“He’s riding with C.J. and Josh and they’re going right to the church. He spent last night packing his things, says he’s going

back to Ireland on Wednesday.” She looks to the ground.

I raise my brows. “Seriously? He’s going to just take off?”

“Can you blame him? What else is holding him here? He was only planning to stay through August anyway, now that his girlfriend is

...”

I shake my head and stand. “You’re right. If it had been Bo, I don’t know what I would have—”

“I know.” She hooks her arm around my waist and walks us into the house.

David Bryson has floated in and out for the last forty-eight hours, and we find him busying himself in the kitchen. The sound and

smell of frying bacon fills the house and Monica helps herself to a plate.

“That smells delicious.” She sits at the table and digs in.

“Thank you. Ember, would you like some?”

Monica snorts.

“She’s a vegetarian,” Bo chimes in from behind me.

David shakes his head, mumbling something about “hippies” before turning his attention back to the bacon.

“There you are. You slept heavy last night.” I stick out my hand to catch an apple Bo tosses from the refrigerator. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for staying.” His tone is flat and, if I didn’t know the situation, I’d say it sounded sarcastic.

Bo pulls away from the fridge and I watch him in silence. His grey suit matches the look on his face, and his mechanical movements

catch my breath. This is what it looks like when someone is actually “going through the motions.”

Pour coffee.

Pour creamer.

Stir.

Sip.