I don’t realize I’m crying until Hatley covers my balled fist and Tristen squeezes my shoulder.
Falling into the latter feels like the right answer, my face buried in his neck, my fingers wrapping around Hatley’s.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but no one speaks or moves, just tethered together next to a grave of the woman that couldn’t do half of what these two have done for me in just the few months we’ve known each other.
Is this what all those shows were about, Mother?
A wave of something like understanding bowls over me and I suck back a choppy breath. It’s full of sage and leather and dirt.
Home.
It feels like home.
The thing the woman in the ground could never give me.
It makes me sick.
Chapter 74
Tristen
“Dude, my fingers areasleep.”
My chuckle is nearly silent, the risk of jostling Emmett too great. I’m not even sure if he’s sleep or just … zoned out.
Admittedly, I’ve been staring at the pile of dirt with my mind on a fucking warpath of chaos since he dove into my chest.
Last time he touched me in front of Hat …
“He’s squeezing the life out of ‘em.”
“Then move?”
“Absolutely not. It’s like a hug from him and I don’t know that I’ll ever get another one.”
My jaw tightens because he’s right.
Because I have shit timing and my ability to hide shit hasn’t waned like I thought it would.
I’m terrified to hurt him. To disappoint him.
To lose him.
Will he forgive me? Blame Hatley? Run?
There’s nothing holding him here now. No reason to stick around the house when I leave.
I don’t wanna leave him.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I glance over his head to my best friend.
He’s already looking at me.
“It’s almost June,” he says unexpectedly, voice thick. “There’s plays and shit downtown. You should take him.”
“But Hatley—”
“I know, fool.” There’s a fondness to his words that softens the blow of his next words. “He deserves a taste of normal anyway. You can give him that at least.”
