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I pull him tighter against me. “I’ve already packed our bags. There’s no place I’d rather be than by your side,” I whisper. “I figured I could take care of the funeral arrangements if that’s okay with you and your mom. It’s just one less thing you have to worry about.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, shaking his head.
I take his face in my hands and make sure he truly hears me. “Organizing a funeral is hard enough on its own, let alone doing it for your baby girl or little sister. Your mom is already going through enough pain. I just want to do anything I can to make this a little easier for her . . . for you.”
“I don’t want to burden you with this, but at the same time, I would do anything to make this better for Mom and take away what little pain I can,” he says, conflicted.
“It’s okay,” I tell him as I look deeply into his eyes, hoping he can see just how serious I am about this. “Let me handle this. Talk to your mom. If she’s not comfortable with it, then I’ll back off.”
He takes another deep breath and searches my eyes before giving me a slow, pained nod. “You let me know if it’s too much and I’ll take over,” he says, brushing his knuckles down the side of my face.
“I promise.”
Miller holds me for a moment longer when I decide it’s finally time. “Come on,” I tell him. “Your mom is all alone at home, and she needs you more than ever. Why don’t you go call Tank and then we can get going after that.”
He lets out a heavy breath and raises us both off the couch before placing me down gently on my feet. He walks to the front door and spots our bags, grabbing them in one hand while digging through his pocket for his phone. I watch him out the window as he loads up the SUV for me and presses buttons on his phone to search for Tank’s number.
I do a once over around the house, making sure all the windows and doors are locked, then head back down to the kitchen and wash up my dishes from breakfast. Once I’m finished and ready to go, I grab my handbag off the counter and take a seat in the living room, flicking on ESPN while I wait for Miller to finish his phone call.
The screen lights up with the highlights from the Dragons’ game last night, and I listen as the reporter states that it was one of Miller’s best games. He comments how it must have been one of the best nights of his life, and I shake my head at the screen, my chest aching.
I hear Miller scoff from behind me. “If only they knew, right?” he murmurs, scowling at the screen before turning his gaze on me. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, let’s go,” I say, picking up the remote and turning it off.
I follow Miller out the door and take the keys from him. “What are you doing?” he asks, attempting to take them back.
“After how much you drank last night, I can assure you that you are still way over the legal limit, and considering the circumstances, there’s no way I’m letting you get behind the wheel,” I tell him, hoping I’m not crossing too many lines with him this morning. I know he’s going to have to break at some point. But still, there’s no way he’s driving today.
He gives in and drops his hand. “Yeah, you’re right,” he sighs and continues over to his SUV. He opens the driver’s side for me and helps me climb up, and even in his worst moments, I can’t fault him. He’s still the perfect gentleman.
We get on the road, driving the few hours back to his hometown. He points out the frozen lake where he first learned to skate—the very one where he fell in love with hockey and recognized his potential as a player. We continue driving to the next town over, the one they moved to when he was ten. The one that held an actual ice rink with a hockey team for him to join. He continues pointing out different places that hold special meaning to him, like his school and where his friends used to live. Hell, he even shows me the little café where he got his first kiss from some chick named Megan.
Five minutes later, he directs me around some residential streets before telling me to stop in front of a small, beautiful, cottage-style house. “This is it,” he says, glancing at his childhood home.
He hops out of the truck and grabs the bags from the backseat before meeting me around the front. Miller takes my hand, and we walk down the small pathway, his gaze roaming over the house, probably remembering all the memories he shared with Mia growing up.
We make it up to the front door, and he takes a deep breath before knocking.
The door opens moments later by a small woman who I can immediately tell is Miller’s mom. She gasps the moment she sees him and falls into his arms. Miller drops the bags and catches her with ease as she begins to sob into his chest. He holds her tight and somehow ushers her back inside their home. He leads her to the living room, and I follow behind, bringing our bags in and leaving them by the front door.
I make my way deeper into their home and search out the kitchen. After taking two wrong turns, I finally find it and grab his mom a glass of water before heading back to the living room. The poor woman is trying her hardest to pull herself together.
I hand her the glass of water as she finishes wiping her tears. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, dear. I’m Juliette,” she says, taking a sip of water to help calm herself.
“It’s more than okay,” I tell her. “I understand. I’m Dani.”
She flashes me a beautiful smile that’s so much like her son’s as she and Miller both stand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, stepping forward and taking me in her arms. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She holds me a little tighter then pulls back to study my face. She lets out a pained sigh. “I bet you and Mia would have been amazing friends,” she tells me with sincerity.
“I would like to think so, too. I regret that I never got the chance to meet her, but from what I’ve heard, she was an absolute force to be reckoned with.”
Juliette giggles at that and gives me a thoughtful smile. “That she was.”
Chapter 24
