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“You’re doing a nice thing for her.”
I’m totally doing this for her and not for any selfish reasons like the need to see her again and spend more time with her. “Yeah.” With that, I leave the house. Thank goodness Sydney decided to overshare yesterday. I know where and when the funeral is being held. I should get there with enough time to spare to find her. Maybe this isn’t a big mistake. Maybe she won’t think I’m creepy for showing up like this. I don’t know why I care so much about what she thinks, but I’m drawn to her and I like her, so there you go.
There’s quite a few people here. I’m assuming some of them flew in, like Sydney had to, since the Jarvis family isn’t from here, but I’d bet some of them are friends of the family who were acquired while living here as well. I walk through the throng of people until I spot her. She’s in a black dress, her brown hair hanging down her back, and she’s standing a few feet away from a group of people.
Completely alone like she feared.
She jumps and swivels around when I tap her shoulder.
“Ian! What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d come so you wouldn’t be alone.”
Sydney searches my eyes for so long, I start to think this was such a bad idea. But then, she throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you,” she whispers.
My arms carefully sling around her waist like I’m worried I’ll scare her off. Damn. She’s perfect in my arms. This is where she needs to be. Clearing my head of such thoughts, I mutter, “Welcome.”
“Sydney, who’s this?”
She pulls away and turns to face an older gentleman. “This is a friend of mine—”
“Ian Rhett,” he finishes, recognizing me now. Honestly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think he remembered all of his patients, but it seems that he remembers me at least. “How do you know him?”
“I just do.” She takes my hand and stands close to me, which makes me stand a little taller, feeling proud as hell for some reason. To onlookers, it may appear as if we’re a couple because of the hand-holding and how close we are. “The service should start soon, right? We’re going to find a place to stand.”
“There’s a seat for—”
“But not for him,” she interrupts. “We’ll stand. It’s fine.” She walks away, pulling me with her, before he can say another word. Once she stops, I decide to roll with what feels right and pull her back against me into a hug.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Liar.”
She only shrugs. “I can’t believe you came for this.”
“Felt like I should.”
“We just met yesterday.”
“What’s your point, gorgeous? We’re friends already, aren’t we? You needed a friend and besides, you can tell Logan about my good deed and then he won’t think Dad and I will kidnap you.” Sydney jerks her head up from where it was resting on my shoulder with questioning eyes. “I was sitting next to you; I eavesdropped on your texts.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s not cool.”
“Sorry.”
The texts were a bit entertaining, and it was nice to see that someone in her family was concerned about her. My apology isn’t genuine; I’m sure Sydney can tell, but the crowd has gathered as the service is about to start. Two sentences in is when Sydney loses it. She starts crying quietly at first. I hug her tighter. As they get a little louder, I rub her back and turn her face inward to my neck to muffle her cries. Her father sends me glares and I send them right back. He should be the one to comfort her. Forgetting her and not paying any attention to her led her right to me. He can’t be pissed at me for being able to take advantage of that.
“Take me away,” she whispers. “I said goodbye already; I don’t want to be here anymore.”
My body moves before I can fully register what she said. I lead her to my car, not sure yet where we’ll go. We drive around first. Her tears slow.
“Thanks. Can we go to your house? Is your dad there?”
“Yeah to both. You okay?”
“Yeah. It hadn’t hit me until then that she was really gone. I mean, I said goodbye, but hearing that man talk about her?” She shakes her head and wipes a few stray tears. “And I’m kind of pissed, too. Like, I could’ve spent more time with her if Dad hadn’t moved away and took her with him when she wasn’t doing well. What’s wrong with the care she could’ve gotten back at home?” She wipes a few more tears away with a small laugh. “I swear, I don’t cry all the time.”
