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I sit up quickly to a spinning room and a sharp pain in my side while water drips down my face and soaks my shirt. My brain takes a minute to catch up to my eyes when I see Rook standing next to me in his full uniform. His dress whites are freshly pressed, with his medals lining his chest and an empty glass in his hand. “What the hell, man?”
“Get moving, Sinclair.” He kicks my foot. “I’ve been trying to get you up for five fucking minutes. We’re going to be late, and you can’t show up to Linc’s funeral smelling like you bathed in Russia’s finest.”
Fuck... I stand on unsteady legs, nearly tripping over the empty bottle of vodka on the floor next to my feet. I feel about as good as a beaten dog when I lean down to pick the bottle up, my side screaming with pain while my head throbs in unison.
Great fucking job, Sinclair.
Linc would be especially proud of the way I honored his memory last night.
When I stand up, Rook stares me down. Not an easy feat when not even an inch separates our heights. “You done feeling sorry for yourself yet, or are you enjoying the self-pity? Cause I gotta tell you, I liked you a fuck of a lot better when you were a cocky little shit.”
“Fuck you, brother.” I throw the bottle in the trash and slam the door of the bathroom behind me.
When I turn the shower on and wait for the hot water to kick in, I hear him yell, “Make sure you shave that shit off your face too. You look like a teenager trying to grow his first beard.”
Family comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. And sometimes they’re the only ones who are willing to tell you what you need to hear even if you don’t want to admit they’re right. One night of feeling like shit for myself was more than I should have indulged in.
I’m alive.
We don’t all get to be here and say that.
I always knewI’ve led a charmed life.
Okay, so my dad’s an asshole who forgot Aiden and I existed after he divorced my mom, but I barely remember him as more than a blip on my radar. I’ve been loved and protected. And while yes, I’ve buried both my grandparents in recent years, they lived until ripe old ages, and both passed in their sleep from natural causes.
This is the first time I’ve ever been to a funeral for someone my age.
Someone young and healthy.
A new husband who would have become a father in just a few weeks, had he gotten the chance to live that long.
And as I sit here, with my arm wrapped around Emerson—who’s had silent tears pouring from her eyes from the moment we got into the limo—I realize just how lucky I am, lupus and all, just to be alive.
Em and Jack’s mom and dad both flew in for the funeral, meeting us at the house this morning before we were all ushered into the waiting vehicles. But it’s my hand Em reached for as she slid across the back seat. “Just us and Jack and Theo,” she whispers.
I lean my head out of the car. “Jack.”
He turns to me, dressed in a crisp black suit, running his hand through his dark hair. He looks tired. We all do. He takes a few steps toward me, and I whisper, “Just you and Theo, okay?”
Jack agrees and says something to his parents before he taps Theo, and the two of them climb into the back with us.
Emerson doesn’t bother wiping away her tears. “Shut the door, please. I don’t want Mom and Dad fighting in front of me today. I already heard her complaining that Dad brought his girlfriend, and I just can’t handle it. Not today.” It’s the most words I’ve heard her speak since I got back to San Diego.
Jack pulls the door shut and rubs Em’s belly. “We got you, Emmie. Whatever you need.”
“I need to not be burying my husband,” she says through a sob and lays her head on Jack’s shoulder. Then she whispers, “But we can’t always have what we need.”
* * *
Jack and I walk on either side of Emerson with Theo behind her. We’re a wall of support for her as we guide her toward our seats at the cemetery. Linc wasn’t an overly religious man, so Em opted for a graveside service rather than a big church mass. But when the four of us stand in front of our seats and the grip Em has on my hand tightens, so does the grip Cooper has on my heart.
He’s standing across from me with Rook, Ford, and Jessie. He looks incredible in his uniform, and I have to swallow down my own sob at the excruciating pain of being so close to him and knowing he doesn’t want to be near me.
Is this what it felt like for him when I pushed him away?
Emerson’s parents stand behind us, and Jack nods toward the minister, answering the silent question and letting him know he can begin the ceremony.
A chill wracks my body as a team of Naval personnel remove Linc’s casket from the hearse and follow the military minister to the gravesite. They secure the casket, and an American flag is stretched over the top of it.
