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Geezer sighed a deep shuttering breath.
“Fuck…,” he groaned. “I could go for a joint, like, right now.”
“Geezer,” I snapped, “stop it! Just stop it!”
Taken aback, looking confused, he asked, “Huh? What?”
“Stop living your life on marijuana. Weed’s not going to get you anywhere, you’re wasting your life. It’s gonna ruin everything for you. So just…stop.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No, Geezer. Stop it.”
“I can’t talk to people unless I’m high,” he debated.
“You don’t talk to people anyways. You hole up in your house and get high. You’re not doing anything. Go back to school—Brian would want you to go back to school.”
“Come on—”
“Who do you want Brian to remember?” I asked. “The Geezer who doesn’t do anything and just gets high all the time…or do you want to be someone else? Someone Brian would be proud of?”
He glanced away, torn. Pained.
I gentled my voice, “You don’t give a shit about your life. But I do. Do it for me, at least until you can do it for yourself later.”
He still wouldn’t look at me. The topic was too personal, too raw for him, but he’d heard me. It was all I could do for him.
“Taryn,” Tray spoke up, his hand touching my elbow, “we should go.”
“Okay,” I murmured to myself, feeling my feet following behind. As we approached his car, I saw Jace straighten from his. He took a step towards me, hands in his pockets, his tie flapping in the wind over his shoulder.
I saw the intensity in his eyes as our gazes met, but I looked away. I had an awful feeling that Jace had a part in Brian’s death and I couldn’t face him, not now.
“Taryn—” he started as Tray led me past him.
Tray let go of my elbow and walked to his side of the car. As he unlocked it, I stood there, facing away from Jace.
Standing beside me, he spoke earnestly, “Taryn, look at me.”
I didn’t acknowledge him. I couldn’t. I’d go off and I wasn’t going to do that at Brian’s funeral.
“Can you please just stop…please?”
“No.” I turned to face him. “Brian found something out, didn’t he? Something that you did to me and he was going to tell me. And now he’s dead. Kind of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Jace paled. “It’s not…that’s not—”
“Fuck you,” I bit out, climbing inside the SUV, I slammed the door.
*
As Tray left the church, I spoke, quietly, “This isn’t about you, it’s not about your dad, it’s not about Galverson. It’s about me and Brian…and whatever Jace is hiding.” I looked up and met his gaze.
“I’m going after him,” I announced.
Tray didn’t say anything, but turned the wheel. He pulled into the nearest parking lot and stopped the engine. Sitting back, he asked, “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
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