Page 50 of Tough Love
“I can help with that.” He thrusts both hands in the pockets of his slacks.
Damn, I wish he’d stop doing that.
I pointedly look at the tree over his shoulder, sucking my lips in. “Mm-hmm.”
“Ready?” Dad asks as he approaches after finishing things up with the pastor.
“I think so.” I dash around the car to my side, giving a quick nod to Evan. “We’ll see you there then?”
He gives Dad the quick side-eye, and then rounds the back of the car to where I stand like a deer in the headlights. His large hand wraps around my neck, and he pulls my head toward him to he can place a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Sure. See you there.”
I’m frozen in place as he walks away, heading for the only car left unattended: a matte-black Jeep.
Mum snorts a small contented sound beside me, and pats me on the shoulder before getting into her seat. “It’s nice to see he still cares so deeply for you, darling.”
Yeah. Nice.
And so damn confusing.
SEVENTEEN
I raise my face to the sky as the light rain starts, thankful for whoever created waterproof mascara. Umbrellas spring up over the funeral goers who slowly spread out on their way back to their cars.
“Now I feel bad for not wearing a jacket,” Evan says as we quicken our pace back to his Jeep. “Otherwise I could have placed it over your heads and kept you dry.”
He indicates a sleepy Briar, who has his cheek rested on my shoulder as I carry him against my front. I make a mental note to skip arm day this week at the gym given the workout I’m getting.
“Don’t be silly. A little bit of rain never hurt anyone.”
Remind them they’re alive, sure. But physically hurt them, nope.
“You still want to go out, or should we take him home?” The indicators flash on the car as we near it.
“I think home is a good idea.” I open the back door, thankful Mum had the foresight to change the car seat over when we got here. “Maybe a drive-through for something to eat instead?”
“We can do that.” Evan waits beside me in solidarity until Briar’s buckled, probably not wanting to seem like a jerk by getting in the car while I’m still getting wet.
He helps me into the passenger seat, and then dashes around the hood as the heavens open up and the rain becomes torrential. Got to love spring storms.
I buckle myself in and stare out the side window at the blurred remnants of Kath’s burial. The graveyard workers hurriedly take down the wreath, carefully placing it on the small trailer hitched to their little John Deere. A tarp is rolled out over her grave, and anchored as the wind picks up. I’m guessing they’ll fill it in later once we’ve gone; save the insensitive loader dumping the dirt in by the bucketful for when no one’s here to see it.
Sleep tight, sis.
I pull a steadying breath in, filling my lungs with the distinctively manly smell of Evan’s Jeep as he turns the engine over: leather and musk, indicating cleanliness and order. I wouldn’t say I’m upset, more … grieving the loss of a chance at one day regaining what I had: a sister who was my best friend.
Briar stares back at me as I twist in my seat to check he’s okay. His silence is unnerving, but I guess it beats the pain at watching him break down when it all gets too much. He rolls his head to the side, watching the raindrops that streak down his window as we pull away.
Nothing needs to be said; the atmosphere in the car is thick enough to cut with a knife. Evan reaches out as he eases on to the road, his hand coming to rest on the top of my knee. I duck my chin and sigh, resting my palm over the back of his hand. He flexes his fingers, entwining them through mine, the small gesture saying so much.
By the time we pull up outside Kath’s place, Briar has dozed off in his car seat and the rain has eased to nothing more than a sprinkle of drizzle. I walk ahead and open the door as Evan lifts Briar from the car and carries him into the house. The sight of him, this broad man carrying such a precious bundle in his thick arms, softens my heart. I can only imagine that he’s a great dad for his own son, Deacon.
“I’ll take him up to bed,” Evan whispers, kicking his shoes off in the entryway. “You go get something warm and dry on.”
I reach out and stroke the damp hair from Briar’s face, and then give him a gentle kiss on the head before Evan moves away, walking up the stairs in front of me. Can’t complain about the view, really.
My heart kicks up the pace as I part ways with them and duck into Kath’s room to freshen up. My overnight bag sits where I left it on the bed this morning. Mum and Dad’s suitcases at the foot all packed and ready to go in the morning.
Time passes as I stand rooted to the spot, staring at nothing in particular while all the emotions and feelings from the day swirl through my head on repeat. It worries me that I still don’t feel a great sense of loss, but I guess in a way the absence of anythingismy way of grieving. I can’t lament what I didn’t have, but I can mourn the distance thatdidseparate Kath and myself.