“Jake?” Mikey stopped inside the door.
Over his head Hope looked for Mikey’s nana, but only saw Connor Tucker. He was crying.
Jake walked toward Mikey, opened his arms, and the boy flew into them.
“She’s gone, Mikey.”
Newman urged Hope into the room as the boy began to howl. It was loud and painful, and Newman swallowed several times at the anguish he was so obviously feeling.
“Connor, I’m so sorry.”
He and Hope took the seats on either side of the man. They weren’t friends, because Connor hung with a different crowd, but still, he was a Howler, and Howlers stuck together.
“I-I can’t believe she’s gone.”
The devastation on his face was real. Newman watched Hope hold out her hand to Connor, and he slipped his inside. He remembered then, they’d hung out at school occasionally.
“I-I found her.” He cried then. Loud like his little brother, and Hope held him while he did so.
Newman pulled out his phone and found Cubby’s number. He called him and broke the news. Cubby would see to details.
Branna and Rose arrived next, followed by Annabelle and the two Texans. Last was Macy and her boy, Billy. They were all here for the Tucker boys, and would stay until they were no longer needed.
Mikey left Jake and fell into Branna’s arms. Jake picked up Rose and joined the huddle. Newman watched the little girl pat Mikey’s back and place kisses on his cheek.
“It’s all right, Mikey,” she said softly.
“I have to call my family,” Connor said when he’d stopped crying.
“I’ve told Cubby, Connor.”
The man nodded, then heaved a deep breath.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said, looking at the wall, but not really seeing. “She’s been the only constant in Mikey’s and my life.”
“We got you now, Connor.” Newman regained his feet. “You’re not alone, you know that.”
He nodded, then pulled out his phone and started making calls. The hardest calls he’d ever likely made.
“You okay?” Newman turned to find that Hope had risen.
“Sure.”
Her face was closed, and she was battling down the tears. The grief in the room was so thick you could reach out and grab a handful. It choked him. He hated death, hated grief, and felt helpless when there was nothing he could do to make things better. Newman liked to be in control of a situation, and if not that, then find a solution. Death robbed him of that.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m not the one in pain, Newman.”
“But you look sad, and I know some of that is because you believe I shouldn’t have said what I did to that limp dick, but—”
“You’re actually talking about this now?” She said the words softly, but there was force behind them.
“Okay, bad timing. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you doing anything rash.”
“Like you did, do you mean?”
“It wasn’t rash and it will work out.”
