“And Denise went along with that?”
Bree gave him an enigmatic look, then turned back to the service. “She’s trying this new thing where she doesn’t tell people to fuck off.”
He blinked, trying to get his head around that scenario. “How’s that working so far?”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t cracked a molar.”
Looking back at Denise, he watched the muscles at the corner of her jaw clench and unclench. She’d locked herself down tight. He had a sneaking suspicion she was doing it for the kids.
Her gaze found his, her eyes bright and shiny. She blinked and one errant tear fell to her cheek. She brushed it away angrily and looked back at the casket.
If he could have punched himself in the face right then, he would have. Fuck, he was an asshole. His determination to get back in her good graces was selfish and putting more stress on her when it was the last thing he needed.
The lead weight of defeat settled over him. He had to back off and give her the space she needed to take care of her family without any unnecessary distractions. Like him and questioning his motives. Between taking off without a word, the current investigation, and Sarah’s death, he’d lost any chance he’d ever had with her. Maybe one day they could be friends and he’d be able to look at her without thinking he’d lost something irreplaceable, but it wasn’t going to be today.
Denise’s face hurt from keeping the fake, sympathetic smile in place. There were too many people in her—Sarah’s living room. Extended family, friends of the family, Sarah’s friends and coworkers. Hell, even some of her former students and parents had come to the funeral and now the wake. The press of bodies was as stifling as the humidity from the early season storm brewing outside and an enormous pressure filled her chest.
Sarah was loved, there was no doubt about that, which made her death that much more unfair. And made Denise that much angrier. She was close to her limit and if one more person asked her how she was holding up, or told her she was a saint for taking in the poor orphaned children of her dead cousin, she might throat punch them. Sprocket pawed at her foot and leaned harder against her, causing her to shift her weight over half a step. She reached down and absentmindedly scratched her dog’s ear, fighting to keep her breathing even and steady.
“Hey.” Bree held out a glass of sparkling water.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“It’s vodka soda.”
“God, I love you.” Denise accepted the glass and took a long, bracing drink.
“I figured you could use it. You’re looking kind of stabby.”
She grimaced. “I thought I was hiding it better than that.”
“You’re probably fooling everyone who doesn’t know you as well as I do.” She stared down at her own glass. “Chris mentioned you looked like you could use a drink.”
Denise sighed. She’d seen him at the funeral, but hadn’t spoken with him. Even with the small glances she’d stolen, it was hard to miss how good he looked in a suit. “He’s only here because the FBI was hoping Eddie would show up.”
“Actually, that’s not true. Well, it may have been a bonus, but I asked him to come to the funeral.”
She lowered her glass and stared at Bree. “Why?”
Her best friend gave her a you’re being dense look. “Because regardless of what happened between you two, he still cares about you. He asks how you’re doing every time I see him. And not as an FBI agent. I knew today was going to be hard for you and I knew you’d need all the support you could get. He’s here for the same reason Gran was—to support you.”
Not for the first time that day, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away, unwilling to show that much weakness in a room full of strangers.
Bree rubbed her upper arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She nodded sharply. “I know. I just—I can’t deal with anything else right now.” She took a large sip from her drink.
“Please tell me there’s alcohol in that glass,” her mom said as she joined them.
Denise handed the glass over and watched as her mom drained its contents.
“Don’t tell your father. He’ll be mad I didn’t share.” She looked at Bree. “Hello, dear. That was rather rude of me.”
Bree grinned. “That’s okay, Karen. I completely understand. Why aren’t we drinking?”
Her mom let out a long-suffering sigh. “Sarah’s best friend, Melissa, thought it would be inappropriate with so many of Sarah’s students coming. Might give them the wrong impression of how to handle grief.”
Denise scoffed. “She should have had it at her place then.” She liked Melissa, in small doses, but she was rather uptight and proper.
“The thought crossed my mind, but she lives in a one-bedroom apartment and we’re Sarah’s family. It wouldn’t have been right.”
Looking around at all the people crammed into her cousin’s small house, Denise said, “There’s not that much more room here. That’s why we should have kept it to family and close friends.”
“Don’t you start. It’s bad enough your father’s bitching about, and I quote, ‘All the damn people in this tiny-ass house.’” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
“Mom?”
“And now I’m out-numbered.” Her mom threw her hands up in a hopeless gesture. “Neither you nor your father are emotional. I could always count on Sarah to cry during sappy movies with me.” A sob shook her shoulders.
“Oh, Mom.” Denise pulled her into a hug, resting her cheek on the top of her head. “I’ll watch sappy movies with you.”
“But you won’t cry!” More sobs shook her mom’s shoulders as her arms tightened around Denise.
Oh, jeez. She was never going to live down not crying during The Notebook. She scanned the room, searching for her dad. He must have been watching them, because he was threading his way through the mourners, heading their direction.
When he reached them, he gathered her mom in his arms and tucked her against his chest. At six-foot-three, he towered over her five-foot-five mom.
“Hi, Bree. Sorry about the waterworks,” he said.
“That’s okay, Frank. It’s an appropriate day for waterworks.”
“Yeah. I suppose it is.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
She heard the catch in his voice. She and her dad may not cry as much as Sarah and her mom, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel it just as much.
Denise felt a tap on her hip and looked over, then down. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
“I want to lay down,” Kaden said.
“Okay.” Poor guy had to be exhausted.
“Will you lay with me?” He’d asked for her to lie with him while he fell asleep every night since she’d told them their mom had died. If he didn’t climb into bed with her, he was in bed with Kimber when she went to wake them in the morning.
“Sure, buddy.” She took his hand. “I’ll come back out as soon as he’s asleep,” she said to her dad.
“Don’t worry about it. You look like you’re handling this crowd about as well as I am. I’m going to tell people they should leave before the storm breaks.”
Her mom lifted her head from her dad’s chest, her eyes red and puffy. “Jesus, Frank. You can’t kick people out.”
He glared down at her. “I’m going to kindly suggest they leave for safety reasons. Me kicking them out would be to tell them to get the fuck out of my daughter’s house.”
“Alrighty, then. I’m going to take little ears to lie down. Let Kimber know where we are in case she wants to cuddle with us.”
She took Kaden’s hand and weaved through the clusters of people, giving a tight smile to everyone who said they were sorry for her loss along the way. They were probably sincere. Maybe some of them had suffered their own loss at some point, but she couldn’t deal with any more people today. She was peopled out.
Thankfully, Kaden gave her the perfect excuse not to stop and exchange ple
asantries. Against her will, she cast a look over her shoulder to where she’d last seen Chris. She’d been aware of him all afternoon. He’d mumbled the standard prayers along with everyone else, but she’d known he watched her the entire time. Just like he watched her ushering Kaden through the crowd. The crease between his brows was prominent as he followed her with his gaze.
Once Sprocket cleared the threshold to the bedroom, she shut the door with a relieved sigh.
“Will you snuggle me?” Kaden asked, climbing onto the bed.
“Sure.” She pushed away from the door and kicked off her flats. “Let’s take your shoes off though.”
He yanked off his shoes and dropped them to the floor. She pulled her phone from the pocket of Sprocket’s vest and set it on the bedside table, then unhooked the vest from around Sprocket’s chest and neck.
“Why did Sprocket have to wear her vest today?”
“Because there were so many people here who don’t know her, I wanted to make sure they knew she was working and they shouldn’t pet her or try to play with her.”
“Oh.” He sat on the bed, legs crossed, picking at his fingernails while he waited for her.
She lay down in the middle of the bed. “Hang on. My skirt’s tangled.” She lifted her hips and adjusted the material so it wasn’t pulling at her hips. “Okay.”
Kaden all but launched himself at her, tucking his head into the pocket of her shoulder, throwing an arm across her chest. She rubbed his back as best she could with the limited reach she had.
The door clicked open and Kimber entered, closing it behind her.
Denise opened her free arm and Kimber joined them on the bed, mirroring Kaden’s position, resting her arm on top of Kaden’s.
A few minutes passed, then her whole body rocked from the force of the sob wrenched out of Kimber. More followed and Kaden began crying as well.
Her throat tightened up and her eyes stung for what seemed like the ten-thousandth time that day. She shoved down the pain, staying strong for Kaden and Kimber. She squeezed them tight and kissed the tops of their heads. “I know, sweetie. I know.”
Chapter 8
Denise stared up at the ceiling, letting the freight train of emotion and thoughts ramble through her mind. She tried not to stop on any particular one to examine it more closely because as soon as she did, she’d be overwhelmed by what the future held in store for her. Ignoring was bliss and she’d reign as the Queen of Denial for another few hours before she had to face reality. Except one thought kept pushing to the front.
Chris.
What was she supposed to do about him? He was going to be in their lives, for the near term at least, because of Eddie. Long term, he was Jase’s best friend so they’d always run into each other. She was grown-up enough to admit her feelings were hurt. Regardless of what he said, she had been an afterthought. He’d put his job first. Maybe she expected too much. Maybe she wanted too much. She was almost childish enough to want to stamp her foot and yell I don’t care. For once in her adult life, she wanted to be first.
Her phone vibrated on the bedside table and she reached for it. A severe thunderstorm warning flashed across the screen.
Of course. Because she had the worst luck in the world. Laying with the kids, she’d hoped the low thunder she’d heard was simply a passing storm and the clouds that had cast a depressing pall over the funeral would break gently. At least it wasn’t a tornado warning.
She needed to make sure the generator was connected at the rescue and check on the dogs. A few of the boarders were highly anxious and they had to be placed with other dogs or they could hurt themselves trying to escape from their pens. One owner had brought a hug vest specifically for bad weather.
Checking that both kids were asleep, she eased out from under them and scooted off the end of the bed. Pulling her dress over her head, she threw it toward the hamper and bent down to rummage in her suitcase.
Living out of a suitcase sucked, but she hadn’t wanted to move any of Sarah’s clothes to make room for her own. It hadn’t seemed right while she’d been alive. Now, it was just depressing. Final in a way she couldn’t face yet. Maybe her mom would be up for it. If not, Bree would probably help her.
Her rain boots were back at her apartment, so she slipped into her flip-flops. Patting the end of the bed she said, “Up.” Sprocket jumped onto the bed and sat.
She scratched her behind the ears. “Good girl. Stay with K-Squared.” Sprocket licked Denise’s chin, then low-crawled up the bed until she was between Kimber and Kaden, resting her head on her paws.
She slipped out the door and braced for the onslaught of people. A sigh of relief escaped when she found only her parents, one of her dad’s sisters, and Bree and Jase. And Chris. A small flame of hope flared to life. Maybe he’d stayed out of concern for her. Or maybe he stayed because he was FBI and he had VIP access to the party.
The flame sputtered and died as the dull ache in her chest throbbed. She ignored it, just like every other time she’d felt it.
“Hey, honey,” her mom said, opening her arms to Denise. “Are the kids asleep?”
She hugged her mom. “Yeah. I need to go to the rescue to check on some of the dogs and make sure the generator is hooked up in case the storm knocks out the power. Can you stay for a while?”
“Well, we were going to go back to the hotel with your aunt Tammy. I supposed I can stay while your dad takes her back to the hotel and then comes back for me.”
“We can stay,” Bree said.
Denise leaned against the counter. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. We don’t have anywhere else to be tonight and there’s no reason for your dad to make two trips. And I think Tammy’s ready to go.” She nodded to the couch.
Her aunt had her head propped on her fist on the arm of the couch, eyes closed with her mouth slightly open.
“If you really don’t mind, we would appreciate it,” her dad said.
“We don’t mind.” Bree slipped her arm around Jase’s waist.
Denise caught the slight squeeze she gave his waist and narrowed her eyes at Bree. She was up to something, but she didn’t have the time to worry about it.
“I’ll let you guys fight it out,” she said. “Make sure you get it on video if it comes to blows.” She grabbed her keys from the hook by the door. Chris’s gaze following her out an almost tangible weight.
Chris caught Jase starring up at the ceiling and shaking his head. He pressed his lips together to hide his amusement at his friend’s exasperation.
“I shouldn’t be too long,” Denise said.
“Take your time,” Bree said.
“We’ll stay for a few more minutes,” her mom said. “I’ll try to find room for all this food.” She gestured to plastic storage containers stacked on the short counters.
“I can’t believe people still do that,” Denise said. “Tell Aunt Tammy I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” She hugged her parents and Bree.
He caught the eye flick his way, but didn’t know what to make of it. It was cautious and flirtatious at the same time—an involuntary eye spasm in his direction.
Defeat beat down on him with its meaty fists. All he’d wanted to do all day was touch her. Comfort her. Tell her he was there for her and it would eventually be alright. That she was one of the strongest people he knew and she had this. Maybe one day he could get her to trust him again, but at that moment he wasn’t holding out hope. She could hardly look at him.
“This is a lot of food,” Bree said.
Karen glanced between the two counters. “I know. I hope I can make room for it all. I’d hate for any of it to go to waste.”
“Did anyone bring anything good or is it all casserole?” Frank asked.
“I think it’s mostly casserole,” Karen said.
“Gross. Throw that crap out. The kids won’t eat it anyway.”
“Frank—”
Thunder exploded over their heads, followed quickly by a bright flash of lightning
and they all flinched.
“You guys should go before the storm gets really bad,” Bree said.
Another crack of thunder rent the air and lightning lit up the dark sky visible through the small kitchen window. The lights flashed, but stayed on.
“Come on. Let’s get in the car and on the road,” Frank said.
“Hang on. Sarah keeps candles in the kitchen.” Karen pulled open a drawer and pulled out several small candles and a box of matches. She closed the drawer and looked down at the counter. “Kept. She kept them here.”
She brushed a tear away and took a bracing breath. “Let’s go.” She turned and hugged Bree. “Tell Denise and kids we’ll see them tomorrow.”
“I will,” Bree said.
Chris remained leaning against the counter and swirled the last of the tea in his glass. It was time for him to go as well. It would be weird if he hung out with Jase and Bree to wait for Denise to return. He couldn’t make the offer to stay in case the kids woke up since they barely knew him. Besides, it went against the decision he’d made only a short while ago to give Denise her space.
He finished the last of his drink and placed the glass in the sink. “I’m going to head out,” he told them when they returned to the kitchen.
“You sure? You can hang out here for a while,” Bree said.
“No. I’m going to go before the storm gets worse. I’d say thanks for having me, but…well.”
Bree nodded. “Yeah. But thank you for coming anyway.”
He shook hands with Jase and dashed out to his truck, parked several houses down the street. A driving rain pelted him with fat drops of water, soaking him through his suit jacket. Unlocking his truck, he launched himself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. A blast of cool air chilled him when he started the truck and he adjusted the vents away from him.
He loved the south, but damn there were times he could do without the weather. Peeling his jacket down his arms, he threw it into the back seat and loosened his tie. His shirt was just as sopping, so he peeled that off with the tie, leaving him in nothing but his v-neck undershirt. His dress shoes were probably ruined as well.
Locked-Down Heart (Combat Hearts Book 3) Page 5