Nash looked down at his hands, at the two Kings’ rings side by side.Connor had known how to fight, all right—just never for himself.
A hymn followed the sermon, half the room mumbling through it, the other half waiting for it to end.When the last note faded, the preacher stepped aside and opened the floor to those who wished to speak.
Margie rose first, walking to the pulpit.“Well, y’all know Connor Berry was a pain in my ass,” she said.
A few chuckles rippled through the room.
“But he was mine,” she went on.“All of ours, really.We all watched that boy grow up hard and soft at the same time.Loyal.Stubborn enough to fight the wind if it looked at him wrong.”She glanced at the casket.“Carin’ enough to save a pack of kittens, too.Lord, do you remember them kittens he found wrapped up in a sack, tossed off the interstate?”
“Wouldn’t rest till he found every one of ’em a home—and now them kittens had kittens, and them kittens had kittens, and we got feral cats up to our wazoo.So if you hear yowlin’ tonight, well, that’s just part of Con’s legacy.”
Sarge got up next, pausing beside the casket to lay his hand on the lid before making his way to the pulpit.
“Now, I ain’t too good with words, but I had to say somethin’.Been knowin’ Con his whole life, and most of y’all only knew the version of him he wanted you to—fast talkin’, always grinnin’ and laughin’ and havin’ a good time.Never said no to a favor, never shirked his responsibilities to the club or the town until…” Sarge trailed off, just for a second.“But truth is, he carried a hell of a lot more than he ever let on.And he didn’t even complain, not even when he should’ve.Not even when we all knew how bad he was hurtin’—”
He cut off abruptly.With a short nod toward the casket, he quickly returned to his seat.
The preacher stepped forward, adjusting his glasses.“Miss Berry,” he said, turning toward the alcove.“I believe you and Miss Hayes have prepared something.”
Luanne rose from the alcove and started toward the pulpit, only to pause when she realized Cassie hadn’t moved.Inside the alcove, Cassie sat ramrod straight, still hugging her violin case.Luanne hurried back, bending low to whisper something, but Cassie only gave a small shake of her head.
Margie glanced at Nash—but he was already on his feet, something sharp and protective striking low in his gut.Heads turned as his boots thudded up the steps.
“I didn’t like Con much at first,” he said, facing the room.“Way back when my old man first started bringin’ him around.Thought he was too green for the life—too damn clean, too.Hell, first time he tried to shift a custom, he damn near ground the gears clean out.”
A ripple of laughter broke out among the Kings.
“Then I grew the fuck up and figured out what the old man saw that I didn’t.While I was busy chasin’ trouble, Con was workin’ his ass off—double shifts, triple shifts—helpin’ folks out whenever he could, fixin’ shit that wasn’t even his to fix.And that was the kind of man Mav wanted workin’ for him.A man who’d never quit, even when he should’ve.A man who’d give you the shirt off his back, even if it was his last.A man who still gave a damn about a town that stopped givin’ a damn about itself.”
“A-fuckin’-men,” Boone called, and a few murmurs followed.
Nash nodded.“He deserved better.He deserved to be standin’ here today.And he damn well deserved to see how much he meant—” he gestured at the packed church, “—to every one of us.”
He hit his fist to his heart.“To Con-Man,” he said, voice rough.“Ride fuckin’ free, brother—you earned it.”
Sarge shot up.Then Boone.Then Crusher and Rook.The rest followed, the motion catching like a tide until everyone in a cut was on their feet, each with a fist pressed to his chest,
“To Con-Man,” they echoed one after the other, filling the church.
And while Connor’s name was still rolling through the rafters, Nash stepped down from the pulpit and turned toward the alcove to offer Cassie his hand.“Whenever you’re ready, Strawberry.”
Cassie sat frozen.Somewhere between Margie’s laughter and Sarge’s broken words, she’d gone completely still, barely even breathing.She’d never frozen before—not when it came to performing, anyway.Not even as a kid.Not on any stage, no matter how big.But this wasn’t a performance—it was goodbye.
And there wouldn’t be another chance.No encores.No do-overs.Just this one song, one time—both a parting gift and an apology for a brother who’d carried her farther than he’d ever needed to…maybe even farther than she’d deserved.
And that was what terrified her—the sheer weight of it.How nothing else in her life, not the gala openings or sold-out seasons or glossy reviews, had ever felt half as heavy as this moment in a small West Virginia church filled with people who’d known her not as a name on a program, but as a friend and neighbor, as Birdie and Malachy’s wild child.
“Cas?”Luanne bent down in front of her, worry creasing her face.“Cas, you okay?”
Cassie looked at her friend, managing only the smallest shake of her head.
“What can I do?”Luanne whispered.“You want me to—”
Before she could finish, Nash’s voice boomed through the sanctuary, like a storm rolling through hollowed hills, bringing Connor with it: metal clanging against metal, gravel spitting under spinning tires, the smell of motor oil and cut grass.Sun-squinted eyes, a toothpick caught between his teeth, his laugh running ahead of her down a back road at dusk.Those hands—always fixing, always mending, like he believed he could muscle the world back together if he just kept at it.And that look he’d give her when she pushed herself too far, chasing perfection till her fingers bled—half pride, half worry.Easy, kid.The world ain’t goin’ nowhere.
Then Nash’s voice lifted, rougher now, calling out her brother’s name—Con-Man—and the reply came tenfold, one echo after another.As the Kings’ voices filled the church, Cassie opened her eyes, her tears blurring the room.Luanne’s face swam into focus…and behind her, stood Nash.
“Whenever you’re ready, Strawberry.”
