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Andre
PAISLEY LEANS IN close, her voice soft in my ear. “There are a lot of people here.”
The church is filled to capacity, possibly beyond. I stand at her side as people file by to pay their respects, offering condolences and kind words to Paisley as she greets them.
She’s been at it for hours, facing down people she’s never seen in her life, less than a week after losing her mother and being assaulted.
The latter being the reason so many are here.
They now know exactly what I’m capable of and want to be sure I know where their allegiance lies. Even Leo, Hyde, and Reece came through the line, risking my wrath in an attempt to avoid the same fate Frederick and most of his men met.
Only time will tell if their gamble pays off.
I step back as Bianca and Richard move in front of us, skipping me altogether and going straight to Paisley, holding her tight before marveling over just how perfect she looks in the gown they gifted for the occasion. She’s poised and perfect as she thanks them for the dress and for coming.
Bianca’s expression softens, her tone gentle as she reaches out to smooth Paisley’s hair off her shoulder. “We wouldn’t have missed this. I wasn’t lucky enough to know your mother, but I have heard nothing but wonderful things about the kind of woman she was.”
I wrap one arm around Paisley’s back as she blinks hard, pulling her close as I pat Richard on the back, sending him and Bianca moving down to where Madison stands at Paisley’s other side, helping us negotiate the steady stream of people.
It’s another hour before the crowd thins out, giving me time to finally move Paisley to sit in one of the pews so she can take a break. I bring her a bottle of water, planning to sit beside her, when I glance up to see four men spaced across the back wall, their expressions solemn.
I expected most of The Association here in New York to show up today, prepared Paisley for that inevitability, but I did not expect to see these men.
Not today.
Not ever.
Paisley turns to follow my gaze, her blue eyes studying the men for a few long seconds before she reaches out to grab my hand, pulling my attention her way.
“Go. I’ll be here.” If she suspects who the men are she doesn’t say, but her encouragement makes me think she knows exactly who’s silently showing support.
Even after all these years.
I lift her hand to my mouth, brushing a kiss over her soft skin. “I won’t be gone long.” Leaving her side is not something I want to do today.
Or ever, really.
But I can’t ignore their presence.
And honestly, I don’t want to.
Paisley’s shown me that while attachment can lead to pain, it can also provide motivation to be better than you are.
More than you thought you could be.
Attachment is what brought her to me and so I have to consider the possibilities it might possess.
I make my way to the back of the church, toward the shadows of my past, uncertain what place they could hold in my future.
I scan their faces, the familiarity I find there as comforting as it is unsettling.
We all look different, thanks to the mothers who brought us life even at a cost of their own. But sharing a father means we also look somewhat the same, our resemblance alerting anyone paying enough attention to the connection we share.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” I keep my voice low. The ears around us are many and there’s no doubt in my mind that a good portion of them are straining our way.
Part of me is upset that they have obviously stayed in contact, keeping the connection I made clear we needed to sever.
And maybe that was my mistake.
