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“It’s not fair.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” She rubs a hand up and down my back.
We’re quiet for a bit, and my body finally starts to warm, the racing thoughts start to slow. Should I go to the funeral? The wake? Would it be worse if I did? With all those people around, it should be safe, right? No one would suspect anything. I grew up next door to him. Of course I would come pay my respects.
Will that be harder on me? Will it hurt him more if I go or if I don’t? I don’t want him to be alone.
Who the hell was that dude in his house? Did I ruin everything? Does someone know Asher’s secret now? I didn’t know anyone else was there, so I wasn’t quiet. He had to have heard me. Will he make a scene if I show up?
Are he and Asher hooking up?
The thought makes my stomach turn. Did I help him cheat?
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jordan runs a hand through my hair, and I shiver.
“Not really.”
“Do you want to come up with a plan?”
“A plan would be good.” I sigh. Knowing what I should do will help ease the anxiety.
“If he calls or texts, do you want to talk to him?”
I roll onto my back and pull the blanket down to our shoulders.
“I want to talk to him, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. It hurts to be his friend. Seeing him with someone else will kill me.”
Jordan nods and links our fingers together, giving me her strength.
“What about the funeral?”
“I feel like I should go, pay my respects.” A knot clogs my throat. “After his mom died, he was so alone. I don’t want that for him. It breaks my heart.”
“Okay, we should go then.” She squeezes my hand. “There will be enough other people there that you shouldn’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
“I’m scared.”
She kisses my cheek and leans her head on my shoulder. “I know, babe. I’ll help you get through it if you want me to. We’ll see how you feel the day of, okay?”
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Asher
The next few days are hectic. All the phone calls and arrangements that go into planning a funeral are insane. Since my father rubbed elbows with the elite, there are a lot of people who have reached out, sent flowers, and are asking for funeral details. Dad’s attorney had a list of family members and contact numbers to call for when he died, so I’m leaving that up to him to do since I couldn’t care any less.
Aaron is still hanging around, which I appreciate greatly. After being alone for so long, it’s refreshing to have someone who cares. Maybe I didn’t give him enough credit before.
I’ve tried to call Eli about ten times, picked up my phone to do it, but freeze before I can hit call. I’m afraid he’ll just send me to voicemail or will only say something like “sorry for your loss,” and that will gut me. So I back out before I can hear his voice.
Now I’m sitting in an uncomfortable chair, in a suit in front of my father’s casket. The room is empty except for him and me.
“I’m mad at you,” I tell him, leaning my elbows on my knees. “I know you were hurting after Mom died, but so was I. I needed you, and you weren’t there. You kicked me out of the house!” Folding my hands together, I press them to my forehead. “At thirteen, I had to grieve my mother while being basically homeless.” I let the tears fall down my face. “I hate you for that. For not telling me that I was enough. That you still loved me.”
Standing, I stare down at the peaceful face of my father. “But I forgive you because now I understand what it feels like to love so deeply you’re consumed by it.”
I place my hand on the closed section of the lid and close my eyes, letting go of the hurt his lack of attention caused me over the years. I could never do it to my own flesh and blood, but I understand being trapped in the hell that is losing your soul while it lives in another person.
After a minute, I wipe my face and leave the room. In the foyer is a crowd that I’m surprised by. I guess my father touched a lot of lives. There has to be over a hundred people here. How many of them are here to make sure he’s really dead, though? How many of these people hated him? I guess it doesn’t matter. The funeral director opens the doors and people make their way in. I stand to the side and shake hands, thanking people for coming, all the while hoping Eli shows up. If he does, will I be able to keep my shit together? Will I be able to keep up the fake guise that he’s just a friend? I doubt it.
