Attempting to keep busy, I went through the motions of the rest of my day. I changed into my suit and greeted guests as they arrived.
Luther was feeling better, and he came by to lead the service in the crematorium. It was a small service with a handful of people crowded in the display room where many of our customers rented space for their ashes.
Everything was going relatively smoothly until one of the younger attendees started kicking up a fuss.
Luthor was reading the pre-provided sermon about the deceased when a young teenage girl who had been more or less silent and angry the entire time started making loud, sarcastic comments.
The young girl rolled her eyes and scoffed loudly when Luthor was reading the part about Mr. Hemmingsworth joining the rest of the angels in heaven.
“Ya fucking right. We all know that fucker’s burning in hell where he belongs,” the girl said. The entire room gasped, and the girl’s mother looked like she wanted to slap her across the face.
“Anna-Marie! Apologize this instant!” she shrieked, and the teen turned her angry eyes on her mother without one ounce of remorse on her face.
“Fuck you. You know it’s true. Honestly, you’ll probably join him when you fucking go.”
It was only the years of experience I had with grief that kept my mouth from literally dropping to the floor at this young girl’s words.
The entire room of people tensed as an awkward silence spread out over the course of a few moments. Luthor and I exchanged a look just as the girl’s mother finally seemed to snap back to reality.
“In the car! Now!” she shrieked, but the girl just rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Enjoy the fucking send-off,” she snapped and stormed out of the crematorium.
“I’m so sorry for my daughter’s behavior,” Mrs. Hemmingsworth said, looking around at the rest of her family anxiously. “She’s taking her father’s death pretty hard.”
I was about to assure her that it wasn’t a problem when a familiar, deep, masculine voice rolled through the room.
“Sounds to me like she’s someone who doesn’t feel fucking heard, but whatever helps you sleep at night, lady.”
My head shot to the side, and I felt a confusing mix of relief and horror to find Cal standing in the doorway of the crematorium.
I was relieved that he was here and clearly alive, but I was horrified that he had just spoken to a client like that.
To make matters worse, he, of course, was in his usual combat boots, shredded black jeans, and another black hoodie with a ridiculous saying on it.
This one said‘gayer than u,’and I nearly groaned out loud.
So fucking inappropriate.
“And who areyou?”Mrs. Hemmingsworth demanded to know. Luthor was staring at Cal with his mouth hanging open, and the rest of the guests took a collective step away from him.
Fucking Christ!
“Uhm, everyone. I apologize for the interruption,” I found myself saying as I made a beeline for a very angry-looking Cal. I grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him out of the crematorium. “Luthor will continue the service; please make your way into the reception area for refreshments after you have had time to say your goodbyes.”
I pushed and shoved Cal down the hall, doing my best to remove him from the situation as quickly as possible.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” I snarled at him when we were out of earshot, but he was staring over my shoulder as if he couldn’t let what he had heard in the crematorium go.
“What do you think the kid meant by that? Why do you think she said that?” he asked, and I growled.
“I don’t know, Callum. People say all kinds of shit when they’re grieving.”
Cal turned angry brown eyes on me, that strange muscle in his jaw jumping again.
“That didn’t sound like grief. That sounded like someone who survived something fucked up.”
I met his gaze and allowed myself to take him in. He was tired. I could tell.
He had dark shadows under his eyes that weren’t there the night before, and my gaze fell down to his neck, where thereseemed to be a dark substance competing for real estate with his tattoos.
