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He’d been standing right there.
Hadn’t he?
Phillip catches my eye, his brows crinkling as he no doubts senses something is wrong. But then my parents’ coffins are lowered into the ground, and I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move. This is it…
A tsunami of grief slams into me as Sasha hugs me tighter, whispering soothing words of reassurance against my hair.
My body shakes uncontrollably as I watch the wooden caskets disappear into the hole.
“I-I can’t,” I rush out, pulling away from her.
“Mia, you—"
“I’ll wait in the car.” I take off toward the row of black SUVs and Town cars. A security guard follows me, opening the car door for me. I’ve barely climbed inside when Sasha and Brandon appear.
“What are you—"
“Easton wouldn’t want you to be alone,” he says, letting his sister climb in first.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, gently slipping her arm around my back.
“I just don’t understand how they can all stand there and act like…” My chest heaves. “While he’s out there,” I grit out, feeling the frustration unravel something inside me.
“Are you sure it was Kingsley?” Brandon asks. “Because he’d have to be a fucking idiot to show up here of all places.”
“Bran.” Sasha shakes her head.
“I don’t know. I thought it was him… but maybe…”
“Maybe what?” She takes my hand in hers, and I let out a resigned sigh.
“Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“You’ve been through a lot. Trauma can wreak havoc on a person.”
I give her a weak smile. Maybe it wasn’t Cade. Brandon’s right. He’d have to have a death wish to show up here, today.
But I felt it… felt the trickle of fear down my spine.
Just then, the car door opens, and a very breathless Bexley and Channing appear.
“Anything?” Brandon asks them.
“Nothing. Security searched the entire cemetery. There’s nothing.” Bexley’s eyes lock on mine, concern shining there. “Cade wasn’t here.”
I glance away, unable to stand the pity in his eyes. As if it isn’t bad enough that I’m grieving for my parents, for a life I’ll never get back… now I’m seeing things that aren’t there.
Dropping my head back against the seat, I close my eyes and drag in a weary breath.
“You guys head to the house,” Bexley says. “We’ll grab Alex and Tim and take the other car.” He lingers, or at least the silence does, but when I refuse to meet his intense stare, the door slams and the car whirs to life.
“He loves you,” Sasha whispers, squeezing my hand gently.
“I know,” I murmur.
I do.
But it doesn’t change anything.
