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“Y-yes,” she whispers. Fucking hell. Even her lips are white.
“We regret to inform you that there was a single-vehicle accident on the desert highway.”
Naomi’s knees give out, and I sweep her into my arms, jerking my head to invite the cops in – that’s a first – and carry her to the couch, settling her in my lap. She lays her head against my shoulder, tears streaking down her cheeks as she turns her face to the cops.
“J-Joey?”
“I’m afraid Ms. Josephine White was pronounced dead at the scene.”
The tiniest wail bursts from Naomi’s lips, and she buries her face in my neck, my hands skating over her back.
“Is there anything else, officers?” I ask, turning my eyes to them. They nod stiffly to me.
“Someone will be in contact when the coroner is ready to release the body.”
“We’ll organize a funeral,” I confirm. Their eyes dart over the back of Naomi’s head.
“We’re sorry for your loss.”
Naomi wails softly into my neck again. Shit. I need them out of here.
“Thanks for telling us. Let yourselves out.”
They stand, sharing a look before leaving. The door swings shut behind them, and I brace my feet against the side of the coffee table, cradling Naomi as she cries, every sob like a dagger to my heart. Fucking hell. Thank god I didn’t do it. It would kill me to be the reason for this.
After over an hour, Naomi finally lifts her head, my shirt completely soaked with tears and snot. She sniffles, red-faced and blotchy, hiccupping, her throat sounding raw.
“Give me a second, Peaches.”
She nods miserably as I stand, peeling my shirt off and changing it, fetching her a glass of water, and resuming my position on the couch. Naomi takes the glass, hugging her knees to her chest as she takes a sip and winces.
Reaching over, I stroke her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Are you okay, Peaches?”
She hesitates, sucking in a deep breath and blowing it out wearily.
“You said she was moving to Phoenix. I didn’t expect a goodbye, and honestly, I didn’t expect to see her again.”
I nod, waiting for her to continue. That’s a lot of tears for someone she never expected to see again.
Sighing, Naomi rests her temple against the back of the couch, her eyes finding mine.
“There’s a world of difference between knowing you’ll never see someone again because they’ve moved on with their life and never seeing someone again because they’re…gone.” The last word is a pained whisper.
I place the glass on the coffee table, taking her hands in mine and smoothing my thumbs over the back of them, careful not to rub over the healing tattoo on the back of her left one.
“What did you want to do next?”
Naomi shrugs, sighs, and sniffs. “I need to see Pastor Nick. He organized Mama’s funeral. He’ll organize Joey’s.” She bites her lip, tears swelling in her eyes again as they land on her purse, sitting on the coffee table. Ryder dropped it off last night.
Gently extracting her right hand from mine, she clutches her mama’s wedding ring, hanging on the gold chain at her neck.
“Oh, god. Am I going to have to go through her stuff at the house? Did she leave any? She would hate me doing that.”
I shrug, tugging her against my chest and trailing my fingers over her back.
“I’m sure some of the groupies would do it for you.”
