“Brooklyn?”
I look up at the sound of Pattie’s voice. I force a semblance of a smile as I walk to the other side of the grave site. Mourners are starting to disperse. There will be food at his grandmother’s house and more small talk and condolences than I can stand. I should have stayed home. I considered it, but every time I tried to make the call, or worse, send the text, I’d hear Pattie’s voice. I’d hear her voice breaking when she finally called me back after I called her twenty times ’cause I couldn’t find my fucking fiancé. I’d hear the way she fell apart when she told me he was gone.
She’s standing near the edge of the canopy with an older white woman with curly salt-and-pepper hair and tortoise-shell glasses. She’s holding the hand of a younger man. Pattie waves me over.
“This is Josh’s best friend, John Dipper, and his mom, Lori.”
Lori takes my hand. The gesture is overly familiar, even for this moment of communal grieving and it pisses me off even more as I realize who her son is.
“The Dipper?” I ask. He swallows and nods. “He told me he was with you.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I want to regret them, for Pattie’s sake, but it’s been a long couple of weeks. It’s been a painful twenty-four hours, pretending I’m not crying for my own awful reason that no one but Josh’s sister Kelsey even pretends to understand. I don’t want to take it back. Especially with the way John is looking at me. There’s something he’s not saying.
“I know. I—”
“You know?”
The blood drains from John’s face. Phew boy, do I want to know what the hell he’s thinking. I dredge up the smile I only use for that asshole Judge Benson and every ounce of home training I have left in my body.
“Lori and John. It was so nice to meet you. If you’ll excuse me.” I know I shouldn’t, but I turn and walk away. I’m not going to stand there next to Josh’s fucking mother and let his childhood best friend tell me to my face that he knew Josh was cheating. I make it halfway down the long incline that brings you back to the cemetery drive before I hear John calling my name. Of course he’s done the stupid thing and chased after me.
“Brook! Wait up!”
I turn on Dipper and try my best to light him on fire with my eyes. “Please. Go back and tell Pattie how sorry you are.”
“I—”
“I mean it. I know Josh was your friend. Pattie needs this right now, your comfort and your condolences. But I don’t.”
“’Kay. For what it’s worth, I told him to stop. Pattie couldn’t stop talking about you and my mom couldn’t stop talking about the wedding. I never met this Corrine chick.” Hearing her name makes my eyelid twitch. “But I told him to stop and I told him to stop using me as a cover. He was blowing me off to hang out with her too.”
“For how long?”
John swallows. That tells me what I need to know. “Seven months.” I do the mental math. Right after he proposed.
“I appreciate that. Thank you.” I have nothing else to say. I need to process this shit and I can’t do it around Josh’s people. People who love him and knew he was cheating on me and… I let the air between me and John grow extra frosty and when he still doesn’t take the hint, I turn and start making my way to a small copse of trees breaking up the expanse of green and headstones. I can’t hide, but I can’t participate in this at the moment.
I rethink leaning against the trunk of a sturdy pine tree as I take my phone out of my pocket. I pull up my text conversation with my sister, then rethink all of that. Liz is the best, but if I thought she was busy when she had one kid, two have eaten up all her time. Between her husband, the demands of their whole ass farm, Liz’s bakery and settling in with a new baby, I’d be lucky to hear back from her within a few hours. I open my group chat, which Liz will get to later, and start to type. Something catches my eye.
A man.
A tall-as-fuck Black man with hair shaved close to his head, the beginnings of a full beard and glasses. There’s a hint of authority about him, but he’s not a cop. I know cops. He doesn’t have thatwayabout him. Also, cops don’t wear glasses. I saw him earlier, when we first arrived at the cemetery, but I figured he was here to visit a loved one. I’m wrong. He’s here for this. Or to check all of this out.
This dude does not blend in. Still, I’m almost positive that’s the last thing he’s trying to do. I watch him standing in the road next to the row of town cars. Josh’s uncle is heading back to his car and I see him stare at the man. We’re in the middle of New Hampshire and I’m the only other Black person here. This dude is gonna draw more attention the more people start to leave. I know I should go back over to Pattie, but I don’t.
I walk down the small incline and cross the road. He watches me the whole way and for some reason I feel like he’s here for me. As I get closer, I see that he’s not just tall. He’s fine as fuck, not that that matters. He’s also dressed way better than a cop. His dark wool coat is tailored to perfection.
“Are you looking for someone?” I ask him. He’s looking at me intently. I know what he sees. I’m plus size by definition, but my overall appearance isn’t what grabs the attention. My breasts are fighting to get out of my coat. My nickname’s been Big Boobie Brook since the sixth grade. Most people notice, not just men.
“I’m sorry to show up like this. Is this the service for Josh Delinsky?” he asks.
“Yup.”
His eyebrow arches at my flippant tone. I should have kept my ass home.
“I—uh, I’m looking for Brooklyn Lewis.”
“You found her. You have more bad news for me?”
He holds out his hand for me to shake, like we weren’t standing a few feet from a hearse. I know nothing about this man, but I want to know why he seems so hesitant, like he didn’t just come looking for me at a funeral. Something like that takes confidence. “I’m Vaughn Coleman. My partner was Corrine Johnson. She was with—”
