Page 125 of Dirty Saint

Reaching up, I cupped his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. Tears I hadn’t realized were coming slid down my cheeks. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with black smudges. He was tired and had put himself through a lot since the night of the riot. He had been there at the hospital, not leaving my side except for leaving for showers. At some point during all that, he had somehow managed to pack up my apartment, get storage for my stuff, and take care of the arrangements for Gracie.

“I love you so much,” I said.

He closed his eyes in relief, pulled me back into his chest, and held me. “We’re going to make it through this.”

I nodded. It sounded nice, but my heart would never be the same. I closed my eyes, and memories of Gracie played in my head until I slowly fell asleep in his arms.

GRACIE’S FUNERAL WAS the worst day of my life. While everything was done tastefully and the place was full of beautiful white flowers, I spent most of my time sitting beside her pastel-pink casket and crying.

The funeral home had allowed me to see her before the small number of visitors came to say their goodbyes. She was lying in a white dress I had never seen before, her dark curls perfect, and her skin like porcelain. She looked like she was sleeping, except for the small scratch on her forehead. I touched her cheek and burst into tears.

It was my fault.

I had put her on the back of Trooper’s bike.

I had sent her to her death.

My knees went weak beneath me, and Koah caught me, picking me up in his arms and taking me to the chair beside her casket, where I remained the entire time. People spoke to me as they passed her, telling me how sorry they were, but all I could do was nod and say thank you.

When it was time to leave for the cemetery, I did so in a daze. I was in the passenger’s side of Crow’s car behind the hearse, my eyes never leaving the view of Gracie’s casket tucked away inside. A row of cars with their headlights on in the middle of the day followed us.

I had expected there to be bikes, but there wasn’t a motorcycle in sight. I was grateful. Somehow, the thought of the line of motorcycles following Gracie, who had died in a motorcycle accident, didn’t sit well with me. Again, it was as though everyone around me had thought of everything.

Koah held me up as we walked from Crow’s car to the burial site. He didn’t let me go until I sat in a white folding chair in the front row of the group. I sat and watched as Crow, Joker, Skull, and a few other familiar faces carried my sister’s casket to the plot. They were all in dark suits, respectfully nodding at me as they passed.

A man spoke of young life and how beautiful Gracie had been. I had never spoken with the man, but he knew many things about her. He spoke of her smile and her sweetness—of how smart she was and how devoted she was to me. He talked about her love of reading and how the movieTitanicmade her cry. I knew without being told that Koah had filled him in, and seeing my sister from his point of view was a gift.

I cried, my hand in Koah’s until the man finished his speech. After his speech, he asked if anyone wanted to say anything, but I couldn’t. Instead, I went to her casket covered in fresh flowers and kissed my fingers before pressing them to the smooth wood.

I wanted to scream for her to come back. I wanted to rage at the world around me for taking my sister from me, but I couldn’t do any of that. I was too weak—too tired and broken. Instead, I collapsed. Crow, who stood near me, caught me, picking me up like I weighed nothing and carrying me away from the site.

I buried my face in his chest, looking behind him as the rest of the people walked by her casket, dropping fresh flowers on top as it was lowered into the ground. Only then did a scream burst from my lips. She was leaving me, and I would never be the same again. Crow did nothing but hold me, his large frame somehow keeping me together.

40

Tori

Ididn'tleavethehouse for a week after Gracie’s funeral. And even then, it was so Koah could take me to the cemetery to visit her grave. I spent most of my time sleeping in Koah’s bed, shutting out the world.

He brought me food when I needed to eat, and I would pick at it. He ensured I stayed hydrated; some days, he even showered me. I felt like I lived outside myself the entire time, watching my slow and broken movements.

My body was still healing. My sister was gone. I had been replaced at work and no longer had a job. My apartment was gone, and I was living under the roof of a group of Atlanta’s most dangerous men. To say my life was a mess was the understatement of the year.

When Koah left the house for anything, which seemed to be happening more frequently as the days moved forward, I was never left alone. Crow would be in the garage lifting weights or watching TV. Or Joker would be there, lingering around the edges of my life without speaking to me.

Things moved forward, but I was stuck in a mental rut I couldn’t escape. I cried myself to sleep every night and woke every morning to a place that wasn’t my apartment. I was reminded that Gracie was no longer on the earth with me.

Soon, I started going into the kitchen for my food. I found it was always stocked with my favorites, and I knew that was Koah’s doing. He was taking care of me. Meanwhile, I was barely putting in effort for him, and while I felt terrible about that, I couldn’t change it.

“There she is,” Joker said from behind me.

I was bent over looking in the refrigerator, and when I stood, I found him watching me from the other side of the refrigerator door. He was shirtless, his body covered in random tattoos and a few scars. His eyes were as cold as usual, but his smile, which never left his lips, didn’t seem as evil.

I blinked at him, surprised he was speaking to me. Joker hadn’t been rude to me since the shooting, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to be friendly. I was living there, and he knew it, but he kept his distance.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, surprising me again.

I didn’t think Joker cared about anyone other than his boys. I never thought the day would come when he would inquire about my well-being, but there he was, staring back at me and asking how I was.

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