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Beloved mother.
I refused to have them put Alistair on her gravestone. The marriage was annulled anyway since James was still legally married to someone else. My gaze moves to the grave next to hers.
Nixon C. Alistair
A life taken too soon.
His grave holds even more flowers than my mother’s. Half of our high school is here to say goodbye to one of their favorite alumni. We thought about holding two separate funerals but decided we didn’t want to go through all of this twice.
As the pastor reads a passage from the Bible that vaguely fits my mother’s life as a mother, I glance up into the sniffling crowd. A lot of people who came I only know from the wedding, but most of the attendees I don’t know at all. Piper is the only person here who actually came for me, to support me in any way she could.
My grandma couldn’t make the trip down here. They had a rocky relationship, but her own daughter’s death hit her so hard that she ended up in the hospital.
We had James cremated. The funeral home told us they would send us the ashes in the mail. I hope it gets fucking lost. I didn’t think I could ever hate someone as much as I hated James. Not only did he do unspeakable things to me, but he also terrorized his own children, put their mother in a coma, and now because of him, my mom and Nix are dead.
Losing a parent—your only parent—is as confusing as it is heartbreaking. My brain has still not fully processed that my mom is gone. There have been moments when the pain has been so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe. Then other times, I simply forget she is gone. Those are the worst. I would reach for my phone, ready to text her, just to be reminded that I won’t ever be able to text her again. We had drifted apart after my accident, but she was still my mom, and there was a time we were actually close. I miss those times more than anything. A part of me always hoped we could find our way back to that relationship. Now we’ll never get a chance to try.
A sob rips from my throat without permission. I don’t want to cry in front of everyone, but my treacherous tears keep coming. I’m surrounded by people, but I feel so fucking alone. The thought has no time to take hold when I feel a warm hand wrap around mine, interlacing our fingers like they belong together.
Blinking the tears away, I look down at Colt’s hand holding mine. Colt stole my first kiss, my virginity, and many other things. We have been together in every way possible, yet this feels more intimate than anything else we have shared.
The rest of the funeral goes by in a blur. Most people come up to Colt and give him condolences; some ignore me completely, and others turn to me briefly with fake well wishes. I don’t really care about any of it. I think the only thing keeping me sane is Colt’s hand, which stays securely wrapped around mine through it all. Even when people hug him, he never lets go of me.
By the time we get back to the apartment, I’m beyond exhausted. All I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep for the next week. The only thing keeping me from doing so is Colt. All day, he has been my rock, my lifeline, the glue that held me together.
Now it’s my turn to be there for him. His nervous energy is enough to fill the room. “It doesn’t feel right without him.”
“I know. But you have to remember he could be, you know… watching from another place.” I wince at the way he looks at me, like that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard, and maybe I shouldn’t talk anymore. “It’s possible.”
“But it’s not the way it is. He’s alive.”
“If he was, why would he stay away all this time? He could at least have gotten word to you that he’s alive, Colt. I want him to be alive, I really do.” When he scoffs, all I can do is put my arms around him. “I do. I want it for you.”
He hugs me back, stroking my hair. “He’s trying to give us space to be together.”
That’s a new one. “What do you mean?”
“It’s exactly the kind of thing he would do. He’d want to stay away to give us space because he knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He knew I loved you first.”
I can’t have heard that correctly. “What did you say?” I lift my head from his chest and look up at him in confusion. “You what?”
“I loved you. I still love you,” he whispers, taking my face in his hands. “I have for a bit. But I couldn’t exactly come out and admit that, so I went too far in the other direction. Like I was covering, I don’t know.”
“You’re telling me that you loved me all that time? Even when you were so cruel and mean?”
“I did. Very much.” A faint smile starts to stir. “I still do. I understand if you can’t love me. I don’t deserve it, not after everything I put you through.”
He loves me. Something about that feels right. The first truly right thing to happen in the past few months. On the other hand, could he really be this good of an actor?
“I want to believe you. Maybe a part of me already does…”
“But?”
“But… it felt real. If you really did care about me, how could you hurt me so badly? How could you watch me suffer?”
