AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He ran a hand over his face. "I couldn't. I just… couldn't."
"And the wake?" I jerked my head toward the door behind me. "Couldn't face that either, I suppose?"
"You angry with me, little girl?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
"Yes," I admitted. "And no. I'm—" I shook my head helplessly, fighting the tears that clogged my throat and blurred the edge of my vision. "She should be here. Not buried under six feet of dirt."
"I know."
My nails bit into the palm of my skin. "She was twenty-five, Pope. The whole world was waiting for her, her whole life ready for the energy and love she had to bring. She—" I pressed hands to my mouth to stop the screams that threatened to pour from me. If I started, I worried I'd never stop.
Pope pushed away from the wall, tilting his head in invitation. "Come on."
"What?"
He paused, his back to me. "I said, come on."
"Where?"
He shrugged as he walked away from the bar, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. "Does it matter?"
I hesitated, glancing back at the bar. Someone had turned on the jukebox, Jen's favourite song weaving its way weakly to us. Pain radiated from the hole where my heart had once been, the song yet another reminder of the loss of a friend I called sister.
"Last chance, Jules."
I gave in, desperate to feel anything but this writhing, tearing helplessness.
"Fine." I stomped across the lot, following him around the building. "But you better not kill me."
He glanced back, chuckling. "You're a terror, you know that, right?"
I fell into step beside him. "Why didn't you come? She would have wanted you there."
His steps faltered. "It was for the best, trust me"
I watched him in the dim light of the moon, the shadows playing over his features. "For you, or for her?"
His jaw tightened. "For Caitlin."
My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Caitlin? I don't understand?"
Pope's father, Frank, had married Jen's mother, Caitlin, when Jen had been a toddler. Three years older than his new stepsister, Pope had taken one look at her and fallen in love. The two siblings had been inseparable throughout our childhood and into their early adult years until Pope had made a decision that had caused an unmendable rift within the family.
He stopped, his piercing blue eyes searching my face. "Frank isn't happy I'm home."
I glanced at the patch on his chest. "You joined a rival club. I doubt anyone in that bar is happy with you."
He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, well, they can get fucked."
Realisation slammed into me. "You stayed away so Frank wouldn't make a scene."
Pope sighed. "He's scrubbed all reference of me. And he forced Jen and Caitlin to do the same."
My heart clenched. I'd known what his decision had done to their family. I'd listened to Jen bemoan the situation, raging against the stubborn men in her life. Being outside the club I didn't understand. I couldn't understand. I'd assumed they'd put aside their differences for Jen's final journey.
It appeared Frank wasn't so willing to forgive.
My hand found Pope's in the dark, his calluses grazing my palm. The heat of his skin cut through the cold that had penetrated my bones. As much as I would never allow myself to lean on a man, the weight of his hand, the solidness of him soothed me. Here was a person hurting just as much I was. A person who understood the scale of loss this world had suffered with Jen's passing.
