Lisa didn’t seem fazed. She just stared blankly at the space between the suspended casket and the open burial plot.
From her seat beside me, Wander reached over and held my hand. I still couldn’t believe they were here. Were they staying in town? Were they going to sleep on my floor the way Whitney and I had crashed at Wander’s? How did they even get the funeral details?
At the preacher’s signal, Lisa stood and placed a sunflower on top of the casket, then laid her hand on the smooth wood, spending one last moment with Shep.
I followed the crowd and bowed my head as the minister prayed for peace in the coming days and weeks, but kept my eyes closed long after he said, “Amen.”
When I opened them and turned around, the service had concluded and my mother was gone.
17
RYAN
THE RUBBER CHICKEN INTERROGATION
“There’s no shame in telling them you don’t feel up to it,” I said as I slid into the bathroom at the rental and braced my hands on the sink, trapping Willow between my arms. She had left the door open, so I didn’t feel like I was intruding.
Willow looked up into the mirror with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, and met my gaze. But she didn’t say anything, just finished brushing her teeth.
“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked when she had finished.
After the funeral, Willow went to lunch with Wander and Whitney while I tackled some work. When she came home, she skipped dinner and went straight to bed. I joined her sometime around midnight, pulling her into my arms the way I did every night and holding her until dawn.
At some point, I had stopped trying to be right, and started trying to win. There was a vast difference between the two. I could admit that daring her to let me make her fall in love was half interest and half career preservation.
Now, I didn’t give two shits about getting her endorsement for my course, or publicly besting her.
I wanted her in my bed every night. I wanted to travel the country with her. I wanted to hold her hand through wins and losses.
And I hadn’t even kissed her.
“Last night it finally hit me that he’s gone,” she said as she ran a washcloth under the faucet to wash her face. “Sorry. I didn’t feel like staying up.”
“You never have to apologize to me.”
Her hands froze, letting the water pour and pour until the washcloth was completely drenched. But she didn’t make a move to cut it off. “It didn’t feel real until yesterday.”
“Come here,” I said as I turned the water off, took the washcloth out of her hands, and pulled her into my arms.
Willow nearly collapsed into my chest as silent sobs shook her shoulders. “I’m so tired of crying,” she whimpered between hoarse breaths.
Slowly, I lowered us to the cool tile floor and cradled her in my lap. “You don’t have to be,” I said as I brushed tear-soaked strands of hair away from her face. “Cry all you want. It doesn’t scare me. I love that you feel things so deeply.”
“I hate it,” she admitted. “I wish I was more like Whitney. She keeps it together all the time.”
“I think people who embrace their emotions have the most vibrant and full lives. And yeah—when it hurts, it hurts. But I see how deeply you love and care for people and how much you work to keep yourself open to feeling their love in return. That’s not nothing, Wills. It takes a strong person to stay soft.” I cupped her cheek. “I really admire that about you.”
Willow’s eyelids lowered, dimming the mossy green into a deep forest. “Thank you. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“You willing to put your name on that statement?” I teased in a murmur as I kissed the top of her head.
“Jackass,” she grumbled as she wiped her eyes.
I chuckled. “Gotta keep you guessing.”
But Willow didn’t play the game. Instead, she tucked her head beneath my chin and closed her eyes.
“If you don’t feel up to the girls coming over, I can be the bad guy and make them leave so you can have some space.”
