“Say hi to Ellie for me.” I barely get the words out.
I want to say more, tell him how he mattered. That I’ll never forget the way he broke my walls down so easily. The way he made sure I wasn’t alone, even when I didn’t know I wanted company. But my throat locks around the words. My grief burns away into something colder, harder.
I stay until the creak of the ropes makes me flinch. I watch as he slowly descends into the earth, the dark rectangle swallowing the gleam of polished wood inch by inch. I can’t bring myself to say goodbye.
Goodbye feels like a door closing, like the last thread snapping. A slight breeze moves my hair, brushing against my cheek. I close my eyes, and I swear I can feel his thumb. Telling me he’s there, he’ll always be watching over me. That I’ll never be alone.
When I rise, Jace stands like a silent shadow a few paces behind me. His eyes follow me, but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. I can feel eyes on me. I’m making sure they know that I’m choosing to stand back up. I will get vengeance for Tex. He was ripped away from this world way too soon. And Daniel is still out there breathing.
Not for long.
The Guild loungefeels wrong like this.
Too many people and all these pointless conversations layered over fake grief. Glasses clink softly. Someone laughs—quick and startled—like they forgot where they were.
Tex should be here, lounging beside me and making some comment about how all this rich shit is stupid under his breath.
I’m sitting on one of the couches by the fireplace, fingers wrapped around his lucky pebble. The fireplace crackles and pops, throwing its warmth around.
I feel hollow. Cold. My eyes stare into the flames, mesmerized by how they dance. Dancing with Tex flashes in my mind. My eyes sting and I grip the pebble tighter.
“Hey.” Noah’s voice is gentle, like he’s approaching a feral animal.
Hell, maybe I am.
I glance up to find him standing beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, posture loose, but I can see the concern in his green eyes. “Mind if I sit?”
I shake my head.
We sit in silence for a moment, watching the room, like all of this is normal.
“You don’t have to stay long,” he says eventually. “No one’s keeping time.”
“I know,” I murmur. “It just doesn’t feel right to leave.”
He nods, pushing up his glasses.
Another pause stretches between us.
“You know, no one ever tells you this part,” Noah continues, his voice low. “After the funeral, everyone expects you to start…transitioning. Move on. Like grief has a schedule.”
I huff a soft, humorless breath. “Apparently, I missed the memo.”
His mouth tilts, not quite a smile. “Tex would’ve burned the memo.”
My throat tightens and I look back into the fire, willing the flames to dry my eyes.
Noah shifts, angling toward me. He’s careful not to crowd me, but creates a private space for us. “He talked about you,” he says. “More than you probably realize.”
I swallow, giving him a small smile. “Probably how annoying I am.”
He chuckles. “Sometimes, but they were affectionate complaints.”
A tear slips free before I can stop it, I scrub at it angrily. I’m so sick of crying.
Noah doesn’t comment. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to stay like this, frozen in time. Punishing yourself for still being here.”
I close my eyes, more tears escaping.
