Funerals had always seemed weird to me. I had no interest in looking at a dead body or in being in the same room with one. Miss had felt the same way, it seemed, which was why we sat in a parlor at the Molnar Funeral Home in Rock Falls paying our respects to some flowers, a couple of pictures of the lady herself, and an urn of her ashes.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Another gray-haired lady shook Anabeth’s hand, whispering the same six words almost everyone in the room had said over the last hour. Anabeth simply smiled that showman’s smile and said thank you, probably not knowing who half these people were. Hell, I wasn’t sure I knew who they all were.

“What’s doing, boss?” Gage plopped into the chair beside me, for once, sans Rex.

“No dog tonight? I’m shocked.”

“Dogs don’t belong in funeral homes.”

“Dogs don’t belong in half the places you take Rex. What makes this different?”

“It’s a funeral, jackass. I understand social conventions and norms, even if I usually choose to say fuck you to them. Not for something like this, though.”

Huh. I never would have thought the man had limits.

He wasn’t done, though. “Besides, Molnar’s granddaughters are here. They’re upstairs playing with Rex.”

And suddenly, all was right with the world as I knew it in regards to Gage Shepherd. “That makes a fuckton more sense than your social conventions speech.”

“Probably.” He settled deeper into his seat, slouching, looking far meaner and more antisocial than even I knew him to be. “You’re wearing those shit shoes again.”

My dress shoes. “It’s a funeral.”

He kicked out his leg, showing me the black, lug-soled boots on his feet. “They go with everything. Even those dress pants you like to wear.”

“Are we really talking fashion right now?”

“It’s function. Those Soul Suckers show up in the middle of this thing, and you’re going to be wishing for your boots.”

I couldn’t really argue with him.

I also couldn’t pay him much attention. My eyes sought out Anabeth, my ears trained on the cadence and tone of the words I couldn’t quite hear. Gage had to be second place tonight. I had a redhead with a grieving heart to take care of, even though I had no idea what to do for her. I mean, I knew what I wanted to do. Same thing I’d wanted to do since she’d kissed me goodnight at her bedroom door the night before. Since she’d slicked that little pink tongue into my mouth and made me rock fucking hard for her.

None of those options were possible or appropriate for a funeral, though.

Unless she asked.

Fuck, if she asked me to touch her? To taste her and hold her and slide in between those long, sexy legs of hers? I’d probably blow my load like a chump. Like a teenager. Like a man who hadn’t been with the woman he loved for fourteen long years.

As I focused on Anabeth and the way her dress hugged every inch of her curves, Gage stiffened beside me, his attention caught by something or someone. I turned, following his sightline. Katie Baker—recently moved back to town and owner of the only restaurant in Justice—worked her way through the throng of people toward Anabeth, while Gage followed her every move. When she stood in front of us, the two women hugged, their whispered conversation too quiet for even me to hear. Meanwhile, Gage kept watching—a little more surreptitiously now that Katie stood less than five feet away. I kept my eyes on Anabeth.

As if she could sense me watching, Anabeth turned just a little, catching me looking at her. Staring, really. Devouring her with my eyes. Her smile changed—went from her act to real. From plastic and fake to the one she only gave a handful of people in her life. Me included. Even tired, pale, and sad, the woman was too beautiful to look away from when she smiled that way. And she was looking at me, making me feel like a fucking king. Like the luckiest man alive to be graced with such a beautiful vision.

“How bad was it?” Gage asked, his voice low and soft. He didn’t look my way, though. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on the two women in front of us. On Anabeth and Katie.

I didn’t need to ask what he meant. “The worst you can possibly imagine? Multiply it by ten.”

He grunted, as if he understood. As if he knew exactly what I meant. And maybe he did. I might never have told him about Anabeth, but he’d seen me that first year after she’d left me. He’d watched me dive into my SEAL training with an energy fueled by something close to rage. I’d hated myself then—hated that I’d somehow lost her, that I’d fucked up bad enough to have her walk away from us. The next year? I’d hated her. And it had taken me a long fucking time to stop.

Gage had seen it all, which was why his next question didn’t surprise me in the least. “You sure you’re willing to risk it again?”

I stared at Anabeth, at the curve of her hip in the dress she wore, at the fancy updo thing she’d done to her hair, at the long line of her neck and the sharp line of her collarbone. I stared at the only woman I’d ever loved, the one who still held a piece of my heart. The one I would give anything to have back in my life and my bed.

My answer was an easy one. “Absofuckinglutely.”

Gage took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, then.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

I didn’t really have an answer for him. Did I know? Sure—but the last time had ended in a way that had broken my heart and sent my life down a path I hadn’t planned for it to go. This time? If Anabeth left me again? I had no idea what I’d do.

But as Katie walked away, Anabeth turned and gave me a soft, tired smile. A real one, not the stage smile she’d been tossing out to every person who approached her. And that look made every possibility laid out before me worth the risk.

“I do know,” I said, smacking Gage on the shoulder as I rose to my feet. “And I’m still all in. You might want to think about diving in yourself at some point.”

“And you might want to think about changing your shoes.”

A funeral was not the place to flip someone off, so I ignored that comment. For the moment.

Anabeth’s smile grew as I crossed the aisle to stand at her side, my left hand on her lower back and my right reaching to shake hands with the people who’d come to pay their respects. And when she sank into me, when her body relaxed and she leaned her shoulder against my chest as if seeking comfort, I stood a little straighter, a little firmer. I shifted into a parade rest sort of stance to support her.

To be the one person she could count on no matter what.

“Thank you,” she whispered in between mourners.

“You never have to thank me for caring, Firefly.”

“You smell like spearmint.”

“Gum. Do you want some?”

“No thanks, but I like the smell on you.” Her head landed on my shoulder, just for a second, before the next older gray-haired lady approached.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

And so the night went. But every time someone new expressed their condolences, every time I had to hear about Anabeth’s loss, my resolve firmed up. Fuck loss. I wouldn’t be losing Anabeth again.