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“Thank you,” she whispered. “For handling all this.”
“You’re not alone.”
She leaned in, her voice low. “But I am.”
I squeezed her hand tighter. “I’m always going to be here. Always.”
Storee gave a small nod before pulling her hand away. I watched as she turned on her heel and walked out of the funeralhome. I knew that she needed her space to grieve, but I wasn’t prepared to let her go just yet.
I followed her out of the moss-covered stone building and onto the empty streets of Heathens Hollow. It was a small town, but it had a feeling of isolation that made it seem like a world of its own. The only sounds were the waves crashing on the shore in the distance and the occasional seagull squawking overhead.
As we walked along the cobblestone path, I saw the tears finally starting to stream down her face. She didn’t try to hide them, didn’t wipe them away. She just let them flow freely, a physical representation of the pain she was feeling inside.
“I hate this place sometimes,” she muttered under her breath. “I hate what it does to people.”
“Heathens Hollow?” I asked, though I knew that was what she was referring to.
She nodded. “It’s a black hole. It sucks you in and never lets go. My father knew that, but he couldn’t escape it. And now he’s gone.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just walked beside her in silence. We passed by buildings and shops, some of them closed for the day in honor of Gabriel’s passing. The few people we did come across nodded their heads in respect as we passed by.
“He always said he didn’t want a funeral,” Storee said after a few minutes. “He wanted to just be thrown into the ocean.”
“We’ll do that. Together,” I offered.
She stopped and turned around, her eyes red and puffy. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, but they kept flowing down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, avoiding my gaze. “You’ve already done so much. I’ll try to find a way to pay you back for—”
“Don’t be,” I interrupted, taking a step closer to her. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. And don’t even think about the money.”
She scoffed bitterly. “That’s all my father thought about. Money. How to get more, how to reach for the sun and not get burned. Well… he got burned this time.”
I winced at her words. They were like a knife in my chest, reminding me of just how my best friend had died—a shotgun bullet to the face.
Gruesome.
A message that he was not worthy to be seen again. Even if we didn’t want to cast his ashes to sea, the killer who shot him made sure we weren’t given any other option.
Trying to keep my voice steady, I said, “We can’t change what happened.”
Storee looked up at me, her eyes filled with despair. She turned away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Can I ask you something?”
Not wanting her to distance herself from me, I pulled her close. She hesitated for a moment before melting into the embrace, leaning her head against my chest.
“Anything,” I said, feeling the overwhelming need to never let her go.
“Do you know who did it? Do you know who killed my father?”
“No,” I told her.
Chapter 2
Storee
One year later…
The cold wind tore through the tattered edges of my fishmonger’s apron, sending shivers down my spine as I stood at the edge of the dock on the rocky shoreline. The eerie fog that enveloped the island of Heathens Hollow clung to my damp skin, making the weight of the world even heavier. It was as if the island itself wanted to subdue me, to force me into submission. But I refused to let it win.
