“Pallbearers,” Mom whispers, sniffing.
Six men step forward, all wearing dark suits. Knox is one of them. They lift the casket as one, and the reality of it crashes over me again.
Owen is in there. Dead. Never coming back.
My breathing comes in short pants, and the need to run overwhelms me. But I’m stuck, watching them carry him down the aisle slowly.
Knox catches my gaze. It’s quick, but in that short moment I see the devastation in his eyes.
It breaks me.
Chapter 20
Knox
Ishould have stayed at the grave longer, been one of the last ones to leave. That’s what people expect, right? The grieving brother, standing over the casket, taking his time to say goodbye. But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t stand there while everyone watched and waited and whispered about how tragic it all was.
They have no fucking idea.
So I walked away. Bowed my head and left my mother crying, left Ella standing there open-mouthed when I told her not to follow. Left all of them hovering around a hole in the ground where my brother doesn’t belong.
We should still be at the lake, bickering over some fuck ass thing or another, him calling me an asshole and me calling him a pussy, over and over again until the end of time.
But this…putting him in the goddamn ground where worms will devour what’s left of him. No. I can’t stand there a second longer.
I make it to my Jeep before a wave of nausea hits. Bracing my hands on the hood, I breathe in, willing myself not to throw up at this fucking cemetery in front of everyone in town.
The metal hood burns my palms, but I welcome the distraction and hold them there until I can’t take the pain another second. It shouldn’t be this hot out, this bright. I can’t stand it. Everything about this whole day is wrong—the summer weather, the hundreds of people pretending they knew Owen, the dumbass flowers that’ll just die in a few days filling the trash bins with their musty stench.
And my parents are the worst of all. My mother in her pharmaceutical haze, smiling and nodding to complete strangers when I know she’s seconds from collapse.
And my prick of a father, with his iron grip on my shoulder every time he caught me eyeing Sawyer when he’s been stealing glances at Helen since she arrived. Hypocrite. The great Richard Aldrich, a pillar of the community. Nobody knows how he finished off a bottle of whiskey right before coming here, snapping at my mom for beingtoo much.
“Knox!”
It’s Ella, ignoring my wishes for privacy once again.
I don’t turn around. “I need a minute.”
“Everyone’s leaving for the luncheon.” Her purse swishes against the fabric of her dress as she approaches. “We should probably get going.”
Fuck. I can’t catch a break.
Her hand finds the middle of my back, and it takes everything in me not to pull away. “You alright? You need anything?”
Yeah, five goddamn minutes.
“I’m fine.” I straighten up, and stretch my sore neck from side to side. “Let’s go.”
She climbs into the passenger side and I round the Jeep to get in, noticing Sawyer and Helen walking down the hill toward Helen’s car. Their heads are close together, comforting each other. From here, Sawyer looks so much smaller, almostcrumpled into herself and broken. I wish I was the one holding her. My misery craves very specific company.
Is she going to the luncheon? She must be. Fuck, she’s brave to face all the assholes, including myself. So much braver than I’d ever be.
Or maybe not.
I’d plow through an entire town—hell, an entire state—of gossiping assholes if it meant I could be there for Sawyer. I’d be brave, for her.
“Knox, you getting in?” Ella asks through the window.
