Page 10 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“We should go,” Lucia said.

“Thanks, Kannon,” I said quietly.

“Anytime, Merritt.”

5

KANNON

Walking to Gary’s grave felt like stepping onto a battlefield I wasn’t prepared for. The cold air bit at my face, but it didn’t bother me nearly as much as the woman walking beside me. Merritt had her sweater pulled tight around her. Every curve of her body was outlined against the fabric. She used to be all fire and spark as a teenager, but now? Now she was all woman—soft in the right places, full in ways that made my thoughts wander where they shouldn’t.

She had blossomed late apparently. Her body was rocking. All curvy and plump in the right places. The kind of body that gave a man handholds. I liked a handful of ass, boob, and hip. Bony girls were fine but it felt like I would snap them in half when I was driving into them. Not nearly as pleasant as soft and silky skin in my palm.

Too bad her attitude hadn’t changed a damn bit.

“You know, I had it handled,” she said, her voice sharp as broken glass as we walked.

I smirked. “Sure you did, Buttercup.”

Her head snapped toward me so fast, I thought she would get whiplash. She stopped walking. We all did. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets. She pointed a finger up at my face, her cheeks flushed from either the cold or pure fury.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

“Why not? It suits you.” I leaned in just enough to watch her nostrils flare. Her green eyes narrowed and I saw that old fire come to life inside her.

“It’s condescending, Kannon.” She folded her arms across her chest, which only drew more attention to the way the sweater hugged her. “You always have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, don’t you? I don’t need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor. I can handle myself.”

I shrugged. “Didn’t look that way when that weasel tried to push you around back there.”

Her jaw clenched. “You mean Duncan? He wasn’t pushing me around. He was trying to get more money out of me. I told him no. He was going to keep pushing and I was ready to dig in.”

“And he wasn’t taking no for an answer,” I said flatly. “You’re too nice. You’d let someone bulldoze you just to avoid a fight.”

Her frustrated groan was something between a growl and a sigh. “You don’t know anything about me anymore, Kannon. I’m not the same girl I was back in the day.”

“Don’t I?”

My tone might have been too mocking, a shade too harsh. I tilted my head, observing her closely, ready to peel back layers she thought she’d hidden well over the years. “People change, yeah. But some things?” I paused, letting the words hang between us for just long enough. “Some things are written so deep they become your bones. Your natural instincts don’t change.”

She glared at me, then spun on her heel and stomped off down the hill toward the grave. I stayed where I was, watching her go. The other mourners were casually walking around us, watching us with curious expressions. I’m sure they were wondering who the asshole in the leather jacket was upsetting the only daughter of the deceased. I didn’t care. Let them stare. The chapel had already been hard enough to sit through, but this? Heading to a six-foot hole in the ground? I wasn’t ready to do it again.

Not after last time.

The thought alone made my skin crawl. My hands balled into fists in my pockets. I turned away from the group, finding a tree to lean against instead. From there, I could see the whole process without having to get too close.

I watched as the two women with Merritt led her to the white chairs next to the fake green grass. Gary’s casket was suspended over the hole, preparing to make the descent down into the earth.

My eyes locked onto Merritt. People were stepping in front of her to shake her hand or put their hand on her shoulder. She looked stoic. Unyielding. Her light brown hair fluttered slightly in the wind, a stark contrast to her otherwise composed demeanor. The bun had loosened and little tendrils whipped around her face. I liked it better. I liked her looking natural and a bit like the girl I knew so long ago. This woman, who once laughed easily, now held herself together like she was afraid to crack.

I couldn’t help but remember the girl she had been. Merritt with her wild hair and wilder spirit, always ready for a challenge. Always up for a dare. That girl seemed very distant from the woman sitting rigidly now, surrounded by mourners offering sympathies she barely acknowledged.

I couldn’t hear the preacher, but I knew he was talking. I focused on Merritt’s every reaction, watched how her eyes sometimes drifted away. Was she searching for an escape or just lost in thought? Her expression was hard to read.

After it was all said and done, everyone started to drift away. Once again, Merritt was the star of the sad party.

As the crowd thinned, Merritt remained seated. The last few people approached her with quiet condolences, a gentle pat on the arm, or a nod of respect before stepping back to let her be. Her two friends seemed to be talking to each other. Eventually, they also walked away to give her a moment.

Finally, she was alone except for me watching from a distance. The cold, the grief—it wasn’t something anyone wanted to linger in. But Merritt stayed. She sat there longer than seemed comfortable, staring at the casket as it lay still above the grave. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.