“How…” Connor’s head drooped, and tears dripped from his chin. “How do we… move on? I-I don’t know how to do that.”
“We take it one day at a time,” Rita said, her voice quiet. “Today, the funeral. Tomorrow…” She swallowed. “We’ll face tomorrow… tomorrow. And each day after that the same way until we can start looking forward again.”
“I don’t think I ever can.” He closed his eyes as more tears squeezed out. “I can’t look ahead without him. I don’t want to.”
“I know, baby.” Rita wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t want to, either. I know it will be a long time before I can.”
His breath came in broken gasps. He hugged her for a long moment, then whispered, “I don’t want to see them again.” Quiet sobs escaped him. “I don’t want to see… what I did.”
“They don’t blame you, Connor,” Rita said softly. “They told you that. They know it was an accident. They’re not angry with you—they’re angry with the shooter.Heis the one at fault, not only for Gage but also for the loss of their son. They understand that.”
“But I was still the one who…” Connor withdrew from his mother and turned away, pressing a hand to his eyes as sobs shuddered through him. “I took everything from them.”
Rita hugged him from behind, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “It breaks their hearts that you blame yourself. They don’t want you to carry that unbearable burden.”
Rita understood her son, though. She understood his guilt and pain. No matter how many people assured him it wasn’t his fault, he would carry that guilt for the rest of his life; his heart was too goodnotto carry it.
Dan Brown sat on the edge of the bed, dressed and ready to go—but notready. He leaned forward, resting his face in his hands as pressure built in his chest until his lungs constricted. He wondered if his heart would give out. Maybe he would die of a heart attack today. If it were just him, he would wish for it. For Nora, he prayed his heart was strong enough to make it through this day.
“Are you ready to go, hon?” Nora asked quietly from the bedroom doorway. Her voice sounded small and frail.
Dan sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and lifted his head. “Yeah,” he rasped. He wasn’t, though. He would never be ready to bury his only child. Jamie had been their miracle baby. Nora wasn’t supposed to be able to have children; all the doctors said so. Some even urged her to have a hysterectomy. She wouldn’t do it. She believed in miracles. And Jamie was that miracle.
Why give us a miracle, then take it away?
Dan blinked as the room blurred. It made no sense to him, and he wanted to demand that God explain Himself—explain this… act of cruelty. All Nora had ever wanted was to be a mother, and she’d never taken a single day of Jamie’s life for granted. She cherished every breath he took. She thanked Godevery fucking dayfor the miracle he’d blessed them with.
“Dan…?”
Clearing his throat, Dan wiped away tears and rose from the bed. Gravity felt twice as strong today, pulling at every musclein his body. Each step across the bedroom was heavy, as if his bones were carved from granite.
Nora took his hands as he drew close and raised them to her lips. She held them like that for a long moment, a tremor in her body. She was no more ready for this than he was. Watching his wife—Jamie’smother—try so hard to be strong, not only for herself but for Dan, made his anger toward God flare hotter. Had he grownboredwith the prayers of protection that Nora and Dan offered over their son every day? Did he just not give ashitanymore and look away while their child walked out in front of afucking car?
Dan tilted his head down and pressed his lips to Nora’s hair. He didn’t want to be angry today. Anger made him lose control, and he needed to beincontrol, to be Nora’s rock, no matter how much he was crumbling inside.
He gently gripped her shoulders and drew her into a tender hug. “We should go,” he whispered. His throat quivered as fresh tears welled. “Jamie’s waiting for us.”
Wil held Frank’s hand as they crossed the cemetery lawn, their shoes crunching on frost-stiffened grass. A low, bitter breeze sliced between the headstones, making the funeral flowers tremble on nearby graves. Dark clouds hung oppressively low, threatening snow as they approached the small procession gathering a few hundred yards away. Frank had taken the deaths of these two boys especially hard, maybe because he was now a father of teen boys, too. The last timeFrank had shown such emotional distress was the horrific day his tables had filled with children from the orphanage. That had been a bad day for everyone, especially for the cowboy. The only “comfort” was the kids who were found alive and rescued from that house of horrors.
They slowed when they saw Clint and Axel climbing out of their car on the gravel drive just a short way down the hill. Their breath formed small clouds that dissolved quickly in the raw air. They waited for the couple, then resumed walking when the two men joined them, their collars turned up against the chill. Axel looked as distraught as Frank, his face pale against the colorless landscape.
“Are you okay?” Wil asked.
Axel sighed and seemed to take strength from the cowboy as he held tightly to his hand. “Not so much. But…” His gaze drifted forward to the families. “… not having as bad a day as them.”
“They’re such kind folks,” Frank murmured, swallowing thickly. “It’s so heartbreaking what they’re going through.”
Wil squeezed his hand, and Frank drew closer to him. Wil loved the man’s heart and wondered for the umpteenth time why it took him so long to realize he was a gay man madly in love with his gay best friend. It hadn’t taken Frank nearly as long to figure out he was in love with Wil.
Warm thoughts of their love helped ward off the chill of grief and loss hanging over the cemetery grounds. Wil glanced at the cowboy who remained silent, eyes focused forward. He didn’t ask about his “pursuit” of the drive-by shooter, and suspected the man had beenapprehendedand dealt with already. The cowboy wasn’t one to drag his feet in such matters.Notasking allowed Wil to maintainplausible deniability.It was the coreof his and the cowboy’s special “relationship” as outlaw and lawman.Don’t ask, don’t tell.It was working so far.
Wil cleared his throat. “Both families received substantial financial donations for the funerals, more than enough to cover funeral costs as well as any hospital bills.” He looked curiously at the cowboy. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
The surprise on Clint’s face was answer enough. “No,” the cowboy said. “They don’t know who it was from?”
“Entirely anonymous,” Wil replied. “I know you have some wealthy friends, I thought perhaps…”
“No,” Clint murmured again. “I had planned to arrange a donation, but… no, that wasn’t us.”
