Nate leans closer, bringing a strong whiff of aftershave. “At least it’s not ‘Another One Bites the Dust’.” The corner of his mouth twitches.
Holy smokes, was that a joke from the world’s most poker-faced police officer?Ordinarily, this sort of breaking of character would thrill me, but I shoot Nate a subtle look for making that joke at a time like this.
The forty-minute service had felt like forty hours to me, with Dylan’s heartbreaking eulogy churning up memories of my mom’s funeral that made my palms sweat against my knees. Back on that awful day, I’d sat in the front pew grinding my teeth and forcing myself to think about things that wouldn’t make me fall apart, like how many separate blocks of wood had been used to make up the parquet floor.
The unwanted flashback disappears when Nate gets up beside me. We wait for a gap in the parade of funeral-goers before falling into step behind them.
“This is not what I expected for our first date,” Nate murmurs. “I would have preferred the Italian festival with some pasta and perhaps a glass each of chianti.” The way he pronounces chianti as chee-anti is like nails on a chalkboard.
“Yeah, the whole grief thing really takes the romance out of the air,” I deadpan.
He snickers, his body so close to mine that our arms brush. “You do look beautiful, though, Jade.”
Oh, jeez. I drape my long, blond hair over my shoulder, suddenly self-conscious in the tailored black dress I bought for Mom’s funeral and hadn’t worn again until now.
After thanking Nate for his compliment, I dash outside into the comfort of the fresh air, although there’s a cool bite to the September wind. The Kings’ popularity has attracted a sizable crowd, and it takes a few seconds for me to spot Hayley over near the funeral cars. I weave my way through to her with Nate still shadowing me.
Hayley’s puffy eyes brighten a little as I approach, and I fold my arms around her and give her a big squeeze. Nate steps forward to offer his condolences, and as the two of them chat a little, I overhear the reason he’s here. He attended the car accident that killed her parents while he was on duty, and he wants to pay his respects. I can’t even imagine how awful that must’ve been. I definitely wouldn’t have the stomach to be a police officer.
Out of nowhere, the Burner triplets burst through the crowd and dart between us, nearly knocking me on my ass.
“Is that where the dead bodies are?” asks the rattiest-looking triplet, pointing at the hearses.
Gasps ripple through the gatherers except for one voice behind me that breathes a light laugh. Dylan edges past, bringing a faint waft of something fresh and musky, like expensive men’s soap.
“Fuck, I needed that,” he murmurs about the boy’s macabre comment, then says something to Hayley about the burial arrangements. My gaze catches on a beautiful image of flying birds tattooed vertically up the side of his neck.
“Are you coming back to the house with us, Jade?” Hayley asks. She’d mentioned a small dinner for close family and friends in a text this morning.
“Definitely.”
Dylan twists around and his eyes lock on mine, sending heat to my cheeks.Ugh, I hope he doesn’t think I was staring at him like a creeper.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I mumble to him, my blush deepening.
A faint smile edges his mouth. “Thanks, Jade.”
His blue eyes hover on my face, and I hide my strange embarrassment by turning back to Nate and giving him a soft smile. Nate’s looking only at Dylan, with his jaw so tight that it could snap into two pieces. Dylan doesn’t so much as glance at him.
The preacher steps forward with Hayley’s older sisters and asks if the family is ready to start making their way to the cemetery. Tears swell in Hayley’s eyes as she nods, and Dylan curves a hand around her shoulder.
The family heads off toward the cars, and Nate waits beside me as I watch them go. “You and Hayley have stayed close?” he asks.
I nod. “Still the best of friends, even though we don’t get to see each other very often.” We make a point to call each other at least once a week, although she’s usually the only one with news.
His teeth dig into his bottom lip. “So, you know the brother well, too, then.”
“Dylan? Not really. I think he lives somewhere out west.” And by “I think,” I really mean, “I know for a fact that @dylan.a.king lives in Austin, Texas.” Not that I stalk him or anything. Because I definitely don’t. His location is right there on his Instagram profile for everyone to see.
“Thank goodness for small mercies,” Nate mutters.
My brow pinches. “What do you mean?”
He presses his lips together.
I wait for more, but his gaze drops to his watch. “Can we talk about this another time? I have to get to work, so I won’t be at the burial.” He shoots me a look of regret. “I’m already late.”
My cheeks pull up. “Baddies to catch and cities to protect.”
