Under a low, heavy blanket of dark and rolling clouds, Chris wove through the headstones toward the group of people clustered around the casket and joined Jase and Bree toward the back of the crowd.

“Thank you for coming,” Bree said. She squeezed his arm and kissed him on the cheek.

“I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, all things considered.” He hadn’t attended the memorial service. That felt like overstepping his bounds. He’d only agreed to the funeral because Bree had asked him to attend.

“Of course it’s the right thing. You’re still her friend.”

Was he though? Denise had made it pretty clear she didn’t want anything else to do with him. While she hadn’t said the words stay away, she definitely gave a fuck off vibe.

The minister opened the funeral with a prayer and the low murmurs ceased. He zeroed in on Denise, seated in the front row reserved for family. Kaden sat on her lap, his face buried in her shoulder. And older woman to the left held Kimber and the man next to her rubbed the little girl’s back. Her parents, judging by the resemblance. She had her mother’s bone structure and her father’s eyes. They were a handsome couple, so it was no wonder Denise was beautiful—even with the tension lines around her eyes and mouth.

He was surprised Sprocket wasn’t pawing at her. Shifting to see the ground at her feet, he didn’t find the dog. He leaned closer to Bree. “Where’s Sprocket?”

Her mouth pinched tight. “Sarah’s best friend thought a dog at a funeral would be undignified,” she whispered.

“And Denise went along with that?”

Bree gave him an enigmatic look, then turned back to the service. “She’s trying this new thing where she doesn’t tell people to fuck off.”

He blinked, trying to get his head around that scenario. “How’s that working so far?”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t cracked a molar.”

Looking back at Denise, he watched the muscles at the corner of her jaw clench and unclench. She’d locked herself down tight. He had a sneaking suspicion she was doing it for the kids.

Her gaze found his, her eyes bright and shiny. She blinked and one errant tear fell to her cheek. She brushed it away angrily and looked back at the casket.

If he could have punched himself in the face right then, he would have. Fuck, he was an asshole. His determination to get back in her good graces was selfish and putting more stress on her when it was the last thing he needed.

The lead weight of defeat settled over him. He had to back off and give her the space she needed to take care of her family without any unnecessary distractions. Like him and questioning his motives. Between taking off without a word, the current investigation, and Sarah’s death, he’d lost any chance he’d ever had with her. Maybe one day they could be friends and he’d be able to look at her without thinking he’d lost something irreplaceable, but it wasn’t going to be today.

* * *

Denise’s face hurt from keeping the fake, sympathetic smile in place. There were too many people in her—Sarah’s living room. Extended family, friends of the family, Sarah’s friends and coworkers. Hell, even some of her former students and parents had come to the funeral and now the wake. The press of bodies was as stifling as the humidity from the early season storm brewing outside and an enormous pressure filled her chest.

Sarah was loved, there was no doubt about that, which made her death that much more unfair. And made Denise that much angrier. She was close to her limit and if one more person asked her how she was holding up, or told her she was a saint for taking in the poor orphaned children of her dead cousin, she might throat punch them. Sprocket pawed at her foot and leaned harder against her, causing her to shift her weight over half a step. She reached down and absentmindedly scratched her dog’s ear, fighting to keep her breathing even and steady.

“Hey.” Bree held out a glass of sparkling water.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“It’s vodka soda.”

“God, I love you.” Denise accepted the glass and took a long, bracing drink.

“I figured you could use it. You’re looking kind of stabby.”

She grimaced. “I thought I was hiding it better than that.”

“You’re probably fooling everyone who doesn’t know you as well as I do.” She stared down at her own glass. “Chris mentioned you looked like you could use a drink.”

Denise sighed. She’d seen him at the funeral, but hadn’t spoken with him. Even with the small glances she’d stolen, it was hard to miss how good he looked in a suit. “He’s only here because the FBI was hoping Eddie would show up.”

“Actually, that’s not true. Well, it may have been a bonus, but I asked him to come to the funeral.”

She lowered her glass and stared at Bree. “Why?”

Her best friend gave her a you’re being dense look. “Because regardless of what happened between you two, he still cares about you. He asks how you’re doing every time I see him. And not as an FBI agent. I knew today was going to be hard for you and I knew you’d need all the support you could get. He’s here for the same reason Gran was—to support you.”

Not for the first time that day, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away, unwilling to show that much weakness in a room full of strangers.

Bree rubbed her upper arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She nodded sharply. “I know. I just—I can’t deal with anything else right now.” She took a large sip from her drink.

“Please tell me there’s alcohol in that glass,” her mom said as she joined them.

Denise handed the glass over and watched as her mom drained its contents.

“Don’t tell your father. He’ll be mad I didn’t share.” She looked at Bree. “Hello, dear. That was rather rude of me.”

Bree grinned. “That’s okay, Karen. I completely understand. Why aren’t we drinking?”

Her mom let out a long-suffering sigh. “Sarah’s best friend, Melissa, thought it would be inappropriate with so many of Sarah’s students coming. Might give them the wrong impression of how to handle grief.”

Denise scoffed. “She should have had it at her place then.” She liked Melissa, in small doses, but she was rather uptight and proper.

“The thought crossed my mind, but she lives in a one-bedroom apartment and we’re Sarah’s family. It wouldn’t have been right.”

Looking around at all the people crammed into her cousin’s small house, Denise said, “There’s not that much more room here. That’s why we should have kept it to family and close friends.”

“Don’t you start. It’s bad enough your father’s bitching about, and I quote, ‘All the damn people in this tiny-ass house.’” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“Mom?”

“And now I’m out-numbered.” Her mom threw her hands up in a hopeless gesture. “Neither you nor your father are emotional. I could always count on Sarah to cry during sappy movies with me.” A sob shook her shoulders.

“Oh, Mom.” Denise pulled her into a hug, resting her cheek on the top of her head. “I’ll watch sappy movies with you.”

“But you won’t cry!” More sobs shook her mom’s shoulders as her arms tightened around Denise.

Oh, jeez. She was never going to live down not crying during The Notebook. She scanned the room, searching for her dad. He must have been watching them, because he was threading his way through the mourners, heading their direction.

When he reached them, he gathered her mom in his arms and tucked her against his chest. At six-foot-three, he towered over her five-foot-five mom.

“Hi, Bree. Sorry about the waterworks,” he said.

“That’s okay, Frank. It’s an appropriate day for waterworks.”

“Yeah. I suppose it is.” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

She heard the catch in his voice. She and her dad may not cry as much as Sarah and her mom, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel it just as much.

Denise felt a tap on her hip and looked over, then down. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

“I want to lay down,” Kaden said.

“Okay.” Poor guy had to be exhausted.

“Will you lay with me?” He’d asked for her to lie with him while he fell asleep every night since she’d told them their mom had died. If he didn’t climb into bed with her, he was in bed with Kimber when she went to wake them in the morning.

“Sure, buddy.” She took his hand. “I’ll come back out as soon as he’s asleep,” she said to her dad.

“Don’t worry about it. You look like you’re handling this crowd about as well as I am. I’m going to tell people they should leave before the storm breaks.”

Her mom lifted her head from her dad’s chest, her eyes red and puffy. “Jesus, Frank. You can’t kick people out.”

He glared down at her. “I’m going to kindly suggest they leave for safety reasons. Me kicking them out would be to tell them to get the fuck out of my daughter’s house.”

“Alrighty, then. I’m going to take little ears to lie down. Let Kimber know where we are in case she wants to cuddle with us.”

She took Kaden’s hand and weaved through the clusters of people, giving a tight smile to everyone who said they were sorry for her loss along the way. They were probably sincere. Maybe some of them had suffered their own loss at some point, but she couldn’t deal with any more people today. She was peopled out.

Thankfully, Kaden gave her the perfect excuse not to stop and exchange pleasantries. Against her will, she cast a look over her shoulder to where she’d last seen Chris. She’d been aware of him all afternoon. He’d mumbled the standard prayers along with everyone else, but she’d known he watched her the entire time. Just like he watched her ushering Kaden through the crowd. The crease between his brows was prominent as he followed her with his gaze.

Once Sprocket cleared the threshold to the bedroom, she shut the door with a relieved sigh.

“Will you snuggle me?” Kaden asked, climbing onto the bed.

“Sure.” She pushed away from the door and kicked off her flats. “Let’s take your shoes off though.”

He yanked off his shoes and dropped them to the floor. She pulled her phone from the pocket of Sprocket’s vest and set it on the bedside table, then unhooked the vest from around Sprocket’s chest and neck.

“Why did Sprocket have to wear her vest today?”

“Because there were so many people here who don’t know her, I wanted to make sure they knew she was working and they shouldn’t pet her or try to play with her.”

“Oh.” He sat on the bed, legs crossed, picking at his fingernails while he waited for her.

She lay down in the middle of the bed. “Hang on. My skirt’s tangled.” She lifted her hips and adjusted the material so it wasn’t pulling at her hips. “Okay.”

Kaden all but launched himself at her, tucking his head into the pocket of her shoulder, throwing an arm across her chest. She rubbed his back as best she could with the limited reach she had.

The door clicked open and Kimber entered, closing it behind her.

Denise opened her free arm and Kimber joined them on the bed, mirroring Kaden’s position, resting her arm on top of Kaden’s.

A few minutes passed, then her whole body rocked from the force of the sob wrenched out of Kimber. More followed and Kaden began crying as well.

Her throat tightened up and her eyes stung for what seemed like the ten-thousandth time that day. She shoved down the pain, staying strong for Kaden and Kimber. She squeezed them tight and kissed the tops of their heads. “I know, sweetie. I know.”