I stare down at the freshly shoveled dirt as they lower my father’s casket into the ground beside my mother. Knowing they are finally together and at peace should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes me want to down an entire bottle of Jack Daniels just to see if it will dull the pain.
Blinking away the tears in my eyes, I focus all my attention on Fallon. She’s standing beside my brother, Reed, as he reads the eulogy, her hands cradling her swollen belly. I envy Reed in so many ways. He has Fallon now, the woman he’s loved for as long as I can remember, and they’re having a baby and planning a wedding thanks to Dad and his plotting. I want to be mad at him, because I know he was Dad’s favorite, but I can’t be. I can’t even bother to care that Remy was Mom’s today.
They’re both gone now, so what’s the point of bitching and moaning about it? I had my chance to complain and I didn’t.
“My father,” Reed clears his throat when it breaks. “Our father.” Reed’s eyes meet mine for a second before moving to Remy’s as he continues to read off the paper in his hands. “He wouldn’t want us crying for him right now. Dad would want us to celebrate his life.” I roll my eyes, blocking out the remainder of Reed’s little speech. I don’t want to hear about how we should move on and let go of the pain we are feeling. I mean, damn, the man is barely in the ground and we are telling each other to move on, to let go.
I shake my head, listening to the birds chirping off in the distance. It’s a beautiful day for a funeral. I hate when people say that, but it’s true. The sun is shining high in the sky, and a gentle breeze keeps the warmth of the day from being stifling. There’s only a small group of us here, and I know every single person by name, because they’re family, an employee, or someone Dad did business with.
Though, as I scan the small crowd, listening to Reed drone on, my eyes catch on someone I don’t know. A petite, pretty woman standing in the back of the room, almost behind Roger, a man who is just as old as my father was. A large black hat shields her face, but from what I can see, she has glossy chestnut-colored hair. I tilt my head sideways, trying to identify her from nothing more than her body shape and unique hair color.
It’s not fucking working, and that irritates me.
“So, today when you go home, I want you to think about all the things you have. I want you to cherish each and every moment you have with the people around you, because just like that, everything can be taken from you.” Reed ends his speech, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Am I heartless for not crying?
It’s not that I don’t want to or that I’m not sad. I just can’t. I literally can’t cry.
Shaking the thought away, I join my brothers as we each take a scoop of dirt and drop it on top of the pristine white casket. I don’t speak to either of my brothers before starting my car. I need the stiffest drink Chicago has to offer.
“Ryker,” Fallon’s soft voice meets my ears, causing my steps to falter. Even if I wanted to keep walking, I can’t. I’m weak when it comes to Fallon, always have been, always will be.
“What’s up, future sister-in-law?” I try to keep my voice as light as possible, trying to hide the pain from my voice, the sadness, the disappointment, but I know Fallon can see right through the bullshit front I’m putting up.
“Seriously?” She puts her hands on her hips and looks at me sideways. Ever since the night I made her take that pregnancy test, there’s been this strange bond between us. “What’s going on? You’re just going to walk away from your father’s funeral when your family needs you most?” My gaze lifts to the view over Fallon’s head. Reed is shaking hands with everyone, thanking them for coming as if it’s some kind of party or something, while Remy just looks on, indifferent about everything.
“Yeah… I’m going to say they don’t need me, Fal.” I raise my eyebrows, watching as her face contorts with a number of emotions. I don’t dare say another word, not until she’s decided how she feels at this moment. She’s pregnant, and even if I am pissed and grieving, she doesn’t deserve to have me take my emotions out on her.
“They might not look like it, but they do.” Tears fill her emerald green eyes, and I want to wrap her up in my arms like I did the night she found out she and Reed were expecting, but I can’t. I won’t. I need to get away, to be alone so I can think things through before these thoughts eat me alive. Sitting here discussing the technicalities of our father’s death isn’t going to help.
“I’m sorry, Fal, but I need some time to myself to digest what’s happened and deal with my emotions my own way. If that’s selfish of me, then so be it, but I’ve got to do what’s right for me.” I force a smile and stare down at her. She doesn’t say anything, so I take her silence as agreement and turn away, walking the rest of the way to my car.
I don’t hear her call out for me again, nor do I hear Reed or Remy, and even though I want to be alone, I almost wish they’d care that I’m leaving.
Grinding my teeth together, I push the emotions down—way, way down until I’m sure I’ve buried them. It almost hurts to force myself to be devoid of emotion, but I have to be, or I won’t ever leave this cemetery.
Opening the car door, I slide across the worn leather with ease and remove the jacket to my suit. Where I’m going I don’t need a suit; hell, I don't even need a name. I just need a bottle of something brown to drown out the pain.
The engine roars to life, as soon as I turn the key in the ignition. I almost chuckle thinking back to the day Dad gave me the car. It was one of his favorites, and he had it restored in preparation of my eighteenth birthday.
A 1966 Ford Mustang, 347 Stroker, with black interior and black paint. I used to joke that it matches my soul, but now I wonder how much of a joke it actually is. Losing my father is almost like losing a part of myself, and the longer I dwell on it, the angrier I get.
“Forget them. Forget their pain,” I mumble to myself, squealing tires out of the cemetery. They’ll survive, but will I?