I was so deep in worry I barely took notice of who was around me besides leather-clad chuckleheads.
I scan the crowd until I find who Bone is drooling over. When I spot them, I recognize them immediately.
“You don’t want anything to do with them,” Ky butts in, warning Bone and Hawk. “They bite, and not in the good way.”
He’s talking about two of the Bowman’s daughters. Sable and Shyla. But it’s the shorty standing between them who holds my full attention. I haven’t seen the petite, brown-haired woman with pink streaks and beautiful hazel eyes in nearly ten years. I swallow a thick lump in my throat as our gazes meet. I knew she’d be here. She’s the Bowman’s youngest daughter, for Christ’s sake, and the one who got away.
We all grew up together — Ky, Sable, Shyla, Liv, and me. We used to call Sable and Shyla the Viper twins because they were so nasty and mean, like snakes. Especially to Liv. They hated her. They tortured her growing up because she was a byproduct of an affair. It’s why she looks nothing like them. Their biological mothers are different. But the Bowman, being the man that he was, flaws and all, couldn’t turn his back on one of his own. He loved and accepted Liv. The rest of his family did not.
“Well, I’m not afraid of a few bite marks.” Bone grabs onto the front of his vest, the leather creaking. “Hell, I’ll welcome it from one of them.”
“The one on the right,” Hawk stipulates.
“My right or your right?” Bone asks.
Heaven help me with these two.
“We’re at a fucking funeral. Can you keep your dicks in your pants?” I snap back at them, finally breaking eye contact with Liv.
“What’s got your balls in a twist?” Bone gripes. “Since when do you care about anything but yourself?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl, garnering way too much attention. Too many eyes are focused on me now, including Liv’s, Sable’s, and Shyla’s.
“Sorry,” I mouth to Liv, but her sullen expression never changes. She goes back to staring down at the coffin, and my heart sinks. I wasn’t prepared to feel like this, to feel anything after all these years. We were just kids. Teenagers having fun. You aren’t supposed to carry those juvenile emotions into adulthood. But for some unexplainable reason, I have.
“I will say” — Ky leans into me — “Liv looks fucking good. I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“She definitely looks different,” I agree. All grown up, and sultry, and hot. She’s so fucking hot. She was always a cute girl, pretty teenager, too, but as a woman? God. Damn. She’s on fire.
I zone out, daydreaming about the past with Liv as I listen to the priest’s monotone drawl. All the hot days we spent just hanging out behind the Lion’s Den, long rides on the back of our fathers’ bikes, the never-ending fights with her sisters,the prom.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Forever and ever, Lord, amen.”
The small crowd repeats “Amen.” And I’m thrust back into the present.
The burial begins to break up as one after the other, we all drop red carnations onto the casket for a last goodbye. This is a solemn day. So many memories of my childhood lie with that man. Even of my adulthood.
Jarrod Ward will be missed.
A trickling mass of people walk toward the cemetery road where a dozen-and-a-half Harleys are parked among the cars and limousines. I don’t know what makes me look back, but I do. And I see Liv just standing there. Arms wrapped around herself, not moving. Just staring. Staring at the Bowman’s casket like he’s going to resurrect at any moment. Like she’s wishing it so.
When my father died, I would have given anything for just one more minute with him. To hear one more bad joke or laid bet on the races. I know the emptiness she’s feeling.
My feet start to move in her direction before my brain gives them permission.
“Hey, I’ll catch up,” I notify Fender. He nods and continues to follow the rest of the black-leather clan to the line of glistening bikes.
I wait for the last several people to pay their respects before I finally come to stand next to Liv. It’s just us now. Me and her. In the middle of a cemetery, next to her father’s grave.
“Hey.” I try to sound . . . I don’t exactly know how I try to sound. Like not an asshole.
“Hey,” she responds meekly, not looking at me.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, thanks.” She’s aloof. Ouch.
“We’re all gonna miss him. He was a really great guy.”
