Stuart, my father’s most trusted employee and friend, stood across the rectangular pit next to Chief Red Hawk and other casino employees. He was always the rock, the voice of reason and he’d let me lean on him the last two weeks, as pressure mounted and decisions were made about the casino going forward.
Finally, I allowed my eyes to scan across the grass to the crowd gathered round. Old and new friends, members of the reservation and of the tribal nation respectfully mourned my father’s death. Later, these same people would be whispering about how his passing had impacted our community and our family’s business. The thought of their gossip made my stomach churn.
Making a sweep past the trees, my gaze collided with a set of vivid blue eyes, like two pieces of sea glass lying in the warm and calming sand. The slice to my gut was so intense my shoulders slumped forward like I might be cut in half. Mom grabbed my arm right at that moment, either to hold herself or me up, and my eyes snapped back to my father’s grave.
But Shane’s gaze remained fixed on me. I could feel it pressing in—cool and heated at the same time—similar to how that sea glass feels in your palm after hours in the surf. I gave him a cursory glance, quickly scrutinizing him the best I could, hoping my dark glasses hid my intentions. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since Kai’s wedding. Even when my brother, who’d been his best friend all throughout high school, had met with Shane during the holiday season, I always found some excuse to keep myself busy.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d tried reaching out to me the past five years. The last real conversation we had, if you could even call it that, was just before he left for his intensive Marshall training.
But as I stood at my father’s funeral, my emotions raw and at the surface, all my feelings for Shane hit me like a thunderclap, much the same way that sorrow always railroads me. Everything became clear, like the gleam on the edge of a knife. How I’d secretly adored him for years, even though I never said it aloud. And how once he finally returned my affection, we never got the chance to see it played out.
My gaze traced the sweep of his eyebrow, the curve of his mouth, the indent in his cheek. Then moved down to his long fingers that now tap, tap, tapped his muscular thigh. I remembered how those same nails had dug into my hip as he’d thrust me forward so he could bury his head in my neck. Remembering was so overwhelming that I nearly sank to my knees in the grass.
His years of chasing fugitives as a United States Marshall had kept him fit. His broad shoulders filled out his black suit and his close-cropped hair illuminated those baby blues. I had to force my gaze away, which only sent me back to the tragedy at hand. My senses pelted from all sides, I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the rest of the day. Let alone the year.
As the funeral attendees filed past the grave to throw handfuls of cornmeal or evergreen boughs onto the wooden casket, an ominous fog arose from the ground. Gloomy clouds aligned overhead casting a dusky silhouette and almost at once it began to mist. The wetness soothed my heated skin and I welcomed it, tilted my cheeks to the sky.
Rachel’s hand grasped my arm, her low voice urging me to move forward, and when I cast my gaze around, only our immediate family remained. The funeral attendees had drifted back to their cars, some already pulling away from the curb and heading toward the exit. As a group, the four of us moved closer to the remains of my father.
We stood with our arms intertwined in a semi-circle. No one spoke as we each said our private, ultimate goodbyes. I closed my eyes and whispered my final peace. I’ll make you proud, Daddy.
My shoulder took the brunt of her weight as my mother’s knees gave out, so I shifted and tightened my grip on her waist. As her sobs set my teeth on edge and carved deeper grooves in my soul, Kai took firm hold, tugging both of us into his arms.
When I turned to the parking lot, I spotted Shane and a flare of nostalgia wrapped over my senses, swathing me in comfort. But everything about him seemed different. He stood near a sleek Range Rover, which was a stark contrast to his beat-up high school truck. Even his very being seemed larger, not just in stature but in self-possession. An imposing figure, monopolizing all the air in the space between us.
His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his muscular chest filled out his crisp white shirt almost too well. His eyes remained glued to mine and I nearly faltered, so pure was my longing for him in that moment. Instead, I tipped up my chin and stayed poised.
I’d never forgotten how it felt to have him leave, first after our secret summer together and then after college graduation. He’d always been the one to go. Which meant that I never was important enough for him to stay. But the problem was: nobody else since had felt essential enough to fill the void that Shane had created in my world.
Now another important man had disappeared from my life. My father. My pillar. My heart. And I was left holding all of the pieces. Again. It’s simply not true that leaving is the hardest thing. Being left was a far worse penalty.
I gazed across the expanse of trees and lawn, trying to keep in the tears threatening to escape my eyes once again. Then I looked down at Shane, who mouthed a single word to me.
Two syllables that could mean so many things, given our history.
“Sorry.”
Christina Lee lives in the Midwest with her husband and son. She is the author of the Between Breaths Series, including All of You and Before You Break. She also owns her own jewelry business, called Tags-n-Stones, where she hand-stamps meaningful words or letters onto silver for her customers.
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