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I’d been expected to move on. Pretend it hadn’t happened.
Yet I lived with it every day. It never went away.
I didn’t need her permission to feel whatever it was that I did, but having that acknowledgment loosened something inside of me.
“I was there.” The whisper sounded as if it had been yanked from the depths where I’d buried it deep.
“Teague.” Her fingers dug into my arms.
The memories that usually plagued my sleep flashed across my brain.
“I was five. She was loading me into the car after we’d stopped at our favorite deli.”
Pepper disappeared from in front of me. I was back in the front seat of Mom’s Cadillac.
“Shouldwe set up a picnic for supper?” She grabbed my seatbelt and leaned over me.
“Yes! Lincoln and Beau and Dad will love that.” I pumped my fist in the air.
She laughed. “They will. Should we stop by Daddy’s office and drag him home?”
“Can we?”
“We can.”Click. “All safe now.” She kissed my forehead. “Love you—”
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Her eyes went wide. “Teague,” she whispered before she fell.
Her head landed in my lap.
“He shot her in the back.”
The pain in my chest I always had when I woke up from that nightmare flared to life. Except this time, this was no dream. It had happened in the day. When I was awake.
“I saw his face. But I—” I hung my head. I’d looked at picture after picture the police had presented me. Endured my father’s agitation that none of them were who I saw. That I just couldn’t remember other than the blurry image.
Her slender arms wrapped around me. She buried her head against my chest. Although she was cradled to me, it felt as ifIwere the one in her arms. That she was bigger and I was small.
It was the hug I’d needed from that horrific day. One I’d never gotten from my father and just wasn’t the same from my brother or sister.
I sank into her embrace. The fog of the memory slowly evaporated until my head was clear. She hadn’t bothered with words of support. She simply showed me.
I wouldn’t forget that.
She pulled back quickly, despair and worry written on her face. “Your friend. You have the funeral . . .”
Pepper couldn’t articulate what she was attempting to say, but I understood. She recognized that death and funerals had an impact on me beyond what a person might normally feel. Not that there was a normal.
Death was hard.
While it would have been easy to cast aside the idea that would be presented later today and that I’d heard countless times, that Cassano was in a better place, I chose not to. I couldn’t.
It gave me some solace believing those I’d lost were somewhere better, even if I wished they were still here.
“My sister is going with me,” I finally said. What would I have done if she were in London?
Pepper nodded, satisfied, though her mouth remained in a flat line. “I’m glad you have them.”
