I sighed, brushing a stray curl from my forehead. “He’s doing his best. He’s strong around everyone else, but at night? He carries it hard. Takes him a while to fall asleep.” I paused, my eyes softening. “He keeps blaming himself, thinking he should’ve done more sooner. I just hope he can get past that feeling. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Nyx shifted her gaze to me, the corners of her eyes crinkling with concern. “And you? You holding up okay? You good being here?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t really want to be here,” I admitted. “But Ocean…he needs me to support him, so I’m here for him.”
She nodded knowingly, her hand brushing against mine in quiet solidarity. “Have you told Ocean about Waylon yet?”
I blinked at her like she’d just grown a second head. “Are you crazy? If I had, that fool wouldn’t have been alive to attend his daddy’s funeral.”
Nyx frowned, then nodded slowly, understanding dawning on her. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I exhaled, hoping to convince myself that I’d made the right choice. “I think not telling him is for the best. Maybe he’ll forget. Maybe he’ll just let it go.”
Her eyes lingered on me a moment longer, then she gave my hand a squeeze. “Whatever you think is best for you.”
I forced a smile, even though my stomach was knotted. “Thanks for saying that.”
We walked into the reception hall, the quiet hum of murmured condolences fading behind us. The smell of fresh flowers, the soft rustle of silk dresses, the muted clink of glassware. It all felt surreal.
Ocean appeared on the other side of me, his hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” he said, his voice low, almost breaking. “I’m going to miss the hell out of him.”
I leaned closer, my thumb brushing along the back of his hand. “I know. But you made sure he had the best. You honored him. That’s what matters.”
Ocean swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as though trying to push down the raw emotion he usually hid behind steel. “Yeah…I promised him I’d do right by him. And I made good on that promise.”
I smiled softly, pressing my lips to his temple. “You did. He knew that, even if he isn’t here to tell us himself.”
We moved toward the tables, and I couldn’t help but take in the scene. The hall had been transformed into a warm, welcoming space in honor of Ol’ School’s life. Pictures lined the walls...most prominently, a framed photograph of him in thecorner, grinning at the camera like he knew he was loved. The buffet tables were overloaded with trays of perfectly arranged food. Roasted chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens, sweet potato pie, and everything in between. Candles flickered along the edges of the tables, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of grief. Ocean’s pride in every detail was evident.
“These decorations are amazing,” I whispered. “He would’ve loved this. You made sure everything was perfect for him. You kept your promise, Ocean. Every detail.”
Just as I started to relax into the moment, a familiar scent hit me...the one that had haunted me in nightmares. I froze, my stomach clenching as I saw Waylon approaching. His presence was magnetic in all the wrong ways. The scent of him mixed with his voice sent chills shooting through me.
Ocean greeted him politely at first, and he spoke back, his eyes lingering on me a few seconds longer than they should.
I looked away, and he went on to tell Ocean that despite their differences, he appreciated what he had done for his father and for taking care of him over the years.
Ocean’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I don’t need your appreciation,” he mumbled, dismissive, and I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of relief.
But relief quickly left me. My stomach turned sour, bile rising, and I gagged softly. “I…I’m not feeling well,” I stuttered. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Ocean’s eyes narrowed, worry etched across his face. “You okay? You want me to come?”
“No,” I said firmly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Stay here. Please.”
I rushed off, finding a quiet corner just outside the bathroom. I pressed my hands to my stomach, trying to catch my breath, willing the panic to pass.
Then I heard it. Footsteps. Approaching. My heart slammed in my chest. I glanced up, and there he was...Waylon. His presence unavoidable, looming.
“Skye, right?” he said softly, almost cautiously.
My body stiffened, panic blooming. “Stay back,” I hissed. “Don’t come near me.”
“Look, I wanted to talk to you for a sec,” he said quietly. “I know we’ve crossed paths before, but I didn’t want things to be awkward?—”
I froze, my mind seizing on his words. “Crossed paths before?” I whispered. “You fucking raped me.”
“Wait a minute…what?”
