When no one responds, Archer chimes in to break the silence. “Heard about your wreck, man. What happened?”
Cull’s hand tightens in mine. “Tire blew and I lost control. Cops think the tire had a weak spot.”
“A puncture, maybe?” Archer tilts his head to the side, assessing Cull’s response.
Cull furrows his brow. “I mean, it would be hard to determine now, but I guess it’s a possibility.”
Archer nods and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Found out this morning that my truck is totaled. The airbags deployed, and they can’t be repaired, so.” He shrugs, squeezing my hand so hard my knuckles pop.
I give him a gentle squeeze back, and he exhales.
“Uh, we should go in,” Matt states, checking his phone. “Service starts soon.”
He leads the way into the church and finds an empty pew. We settle in, our parents joining us once they break off their conversations with some of the other attendees.
There is soft music filtering through the speakers, and the smell of roses is thick in the air.
My attention catches on the pale pink casket at the front of the sanctuary.
For a second, I just stare.
Ella hated pink.
She used to complain that everyone bought her pink things because she was a girl. She’d roll her eyes and trade them for blue whenever she could.
Beside the casket sits a framed photo from prom night. Ella is smiling at the camera, bright-eyed and happy.
A tear drips from my chin.
The music changes, and a hush falls over the congregation. The doors to the church open, and the preacher signals for everyone to stand. My legs begin to shake, and I’m not sure if they will hold my weight.
Cull senses my hesitation and wraps his arm around my waist, helping me to stand. “You’re okay, I’m here,” he whispers in my ear as I cling to him like my life depends on it.
Ella’s parents are leading their family to the seats in the front of the church. Mrs. Amy has a dead-eye stare, Mr. Isaac practically holding her upright as they make their way down the aisle. They settle into their seats, and the preacher motions for us to sit before beginning the service.
The moment he starts to speak, the room blurs and the pink casket fades.
In its place is a soft silver one covered in red roses.
My parents sit in the front row, Hadley beside them. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins… all packed into the first few pews with bowed heads and tear-stained faces. A figure stumbles to the casket, knees threatening to give out as he grips the velvet-lined side for support.
Cullen.
Whose funeral is this?
I’m moving before I can stop myself, drifting down the aisle while the service continues around me. I need to know. Need to see.
My hand reaches for my mom as I pass, but she’s further away than she should be, just out of reach.
I turn back to the front. The last few steps bring me beside Cullen. My hand rests on his shoulder, and for a split second, I feel the shudder of his breath beneath my palm.
Then I look inside.
Nothing.
The casket is empty.
