“She’s gone. My sister’s gone.”
“I know,” I whisper, feeling tears slide down my face. “But I’m here, Ambros, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”
His arms move around me, yanking me into his lap as he buries his face in my hair and clings to me like I’m his lifeline. I look up when I feel movement close by. Nevaeh has moved closer. She holds out her hand and I take it, drawing on the strength she’s offering.
“It’s good to have you back, Citi.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet.
I sense others around us moving closer, offering their silent support. I let my eyes slip closed before it becomes too much and concentrate on Ambros, on his smell, his touch, his breath tickling the side of my neck.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my skin.
I turn my head so my lips are next to his ear. “I’ve got you, Ambros. Until you’re strong enough to stand on your own, I’ll be right beside you with a shoulder to lean on.”
Chapter Two
AMBROS
The last timeI stood at the front of a church, I was burying my father, and the hand clutched in mine was Ella’s. Now she’s the one in the box. I’m the last man standing, a title I never wanted to claim.
The hand holding mine gives it a squeeze, dragging my attention from the coffin covered in white lilies and pink roses. I look down at Citi, still unable to process that she’s actually here.
She looks up at me. Her eyes are full of fear and panic, but she’s fighting it so she can stand beside me as she promised. I want to tell her to go home, that I’ll be fine on my own, but it would be a lie. I can’t do this without her. Hell, I’ve spent the last week living in a cloud of denial, and this beautiful broken creature is the only thing holding me together. I don’t know how the fuck she’s doing it. Hell, I wish I could funnel some of that strength she possesses for myself because I’ve never felt as weak as I do right now.
I dip my head and rest it against hers, taking a second to center myself. We stay like that, locked in our own little world, until the priest says Citi’s name.
I pull back and frown. “What’s going on?”
“Trust me, okay?”
I nod and reluctantly let her hand go when she tugs it free. She climbs up the steps to the pulpit and swallows hard as she looks out across the room.
I sense Brodie move beside me and glance over. I’ve not always gotten along with Ella’s husband, but that’s just because we both have big personalities that often clash. One thing I never doubted was his love for my sister. He’s barely taken his eyes off the coffin since he arrived. Watching him stand there in a room full of people, like he’s completely alone, would hurt my sister. I move closer, my shoulder brushing his.
He lifts his head slowly, his tortured gaze locking on mine. “I can’t do this, Ambros. I don’t know how to be me without her.”
“You just take it one day at a time. That’s all you can do.” My voice comes out gruff, even to my own ears.
“Some of you here might know me. Some of you might not. Some of you might even think I’m my sister Nevaeh, but I’m not that cool.” Citi’s shaky voice falls over the pews, silencing us all.
“The first time I met Ella, she thought I was my sister, too. I don’t think I’d really understood what it meant to fangirl over someone until that moment.”
Snickers ring out, making even my lips twitch. It’s no secret that my sister was obsessed with Nevaeh’s books, and by extension Nevaeh herself, when they met.
“Eventually, she came to realize I wasn’t anything special. I was just me, and during the short time she had left, we became fast friends.”
I swallow my surprise. How? When? I look around for Havoc and Nevaeh. Nevaeh looks as confused as I do, but Havoc has a knowing expression on his face. Sneaky asshole.
Citi licks her lips before her gaze moves to Brodie and me. “There were two people Ella loved, other than Nevaeh. Her babybrother and the love of her life. I would sit beside her and listen for hours as she told me stories about the pair of you. Part of me hopes she was embellishing a little because skinny dipping in December is really just asking for trouble.”
Brodie’s shoulders shake with laughter, even as he wipes a tear from his face.
“I never got to live my own story,” she whispers, and again the crowd falls quiet, a poignant silence laced with sorrow and grief. “So Ella gave me the greatest gift by sharing hers with me. It’s something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. And when my daughter is old enough to understand the dangers of skinny dipping in frigid waters, perhaps I’ll share those stories with her too.” She smiles before her eyes move from Brodie to me again.
“Ella was a funny, sweet, kind, and loving woman. She made more of an impact on me than most people will likely make in a lifetime. I found peace listening to her voice, just as she did, borrowing my ear. So before I step down, there was one thing she made me promise to tell you. Please don’t shoot the messenger.”
She takes a deep breath, pulls a letter from the pocket of her dress, and smooths it out on the stand before she starts reading.
