Liam

 

Everything was a sea of black. And not because the darkness tormenting me rimmed my vision. No, that dark halo around my sight had vanished with the sleep I’d gotten while spooned around my girl.

The black I referred to was the color everyone was draped in.

There were so many people at Dad’s memorial service they wouldn’t have fit into a single church in the entire town of Caribou. There were even people from the neighboring towns because my father had just been that kind of man.

Everyone knew him. Everyone respected him. Not even the four feet of snow just dumped on us kept a single soul away.

Because of the massive turnout, his memorial service was held at BearPaw, which, in my mind, was perfect because this place had been where he lived. The largest conference room we had was filled with chairs, flowers, and a podium for the minister to speak from. There was a giant wall of windows that overlooked some of the mountains, bringing inside some his loved terrain.

Because Dad was cremated, there was not an actual “funeral.” There was no procession to the cemetery or the traditional lowering of the casket into the ground.

Thank fuck.

My heart was already battered and bleeding. Watching what was left of my father being placed into the ground was probably more than I could bear.

Instead, we were having this service in remembrance of him and then a short reception afterward. I dreaded this entire day, but at the same time, it would in some ways be a relief to have it over.

The turnout moved my mother to tears, but there was only one person I was interested to see walk through the doors.

As the time drew closer for the memorial to start, I began to wonder if she was coming. Just when I was thinking of calling Alex, the crowd seemed to part, and he stepped through. And with him was Bells.

Seeing her was like a punch in the chest. I knew she’d just been in my arms a few hours ago, but this was here, now. She looked smaller to me. Fragile.

Yes, I’d always viewed Bells as someone I needed to protect. She’d always been half my size, but I’d never really seen her as easily broken.

She looked a tiny fracture away from shattering.

My stomach hollowed out and my mouth ran dry. People glanced at her as Alex led her down the aisle toward the front row. His hand was closed around her waist, and I felt like maybe he was holding her up.

That was my job.

I started toward them, nodding at Alex, and then focused solely on Bellamy. When her eyes latched onto mine, it was all I could do to keep from running the remaining distance between us.

Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying. Her face was pale and her cheekbones a little more pronounced than usual. If we weren’t in a crowded room, I would have given Alex hell because I’d entrusted her to him, and he’d done a piss-poor job taking care of her.

We stopped in front of each other. Our eyes crashed over the other again and again like waves on the shoreline.

Alex cleared his throat and stuck out his hand to me. “Liam,” he spoke, subdued. “You know how much I loved him. He was like my second father.”

It was hard to tear my eyes off Bells, but I did and slid my hand into his. “You were like a son to him. Thanks for being here.”

“Nowhere else I’d be.”

Bells swayed, just barely perceptively, on her feet. Most people might not have noticed, but I sure as hell did because no one else in this room existed in that moment.

I reached out at the same time Alex started to. I shot him a warning glance, and he backed off. My arms slipped around her waist, and my chest took all her weight. She was definitely smaller.

I pulled her the rest of the way in so if anyone did notice her swaying, they would think she was just coming in for a hug. My arms and body engulfed her, and I inhaled, my eyes shutting just briefly.

“Liam.” Her voice was muffled against the black dress shirt and suit jacket I wore.

I shifted only slightly so my lips could brush her ear. “I got you now.”

I held her through the little shiver that shook her entire body, then pulled back and anchored her at my side. The three of us moved down the rest of the aisle toward the front row where all our closest family and friends sat.

It was oddly smaller than you would think. Caribou “royalty” must have extensive ranks, right?

Wrong.

When you hold a certain position or celebrity, you must be very careful who you let in.

I was well aware of the watchful eyes of every person in the room, but I ignored them. This day wasn’t about them, my relationship status, or even mine and Bellamy’s grief. This wasn’t juicy gossip.

This was death.

This was respect.

People could back the fuck up.

Bellamy’s footsteps stuttered, and I glanced down at her to frown. “You okay, sweetheart?” I murmured only loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes stared straight ahead with a teary, scared look on her face. I followed her attention and landed on Mom, who was standing at the end of our row, her eyes locked on my girl.

I knew she didn’t want to see Bellamy. I also understood this day was probably the most difficult of her life.

But it was mine, too.

And I wanted Bellamy.

I needed her.

She had every right to be here. She was family. Dad said so. Hell, even Mom said so once.

Alex assessed the situation with precision and moved ahead of us to gather Mom into a hug and whisper condolences in her ear. She pulled back, dabbing at her eyes, and smiled weakly at him, then gestured for him to go past her down the row to where his parents and sister sat.

Renewing the firm grip I had around Bellamy’s waist, I nudged her forward, practically supporting all her weight. Mom measured my girl as we drew close, taking in her appearance and the way she moved. To my surprise, some of the resentment seemed to drain right out of her.

“Thank you for being here,” Mom said to Bellamy as I paused at her side.

“I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.” Bells said, her voice sounding like it had been dragged over blistering coals.

I nudged her, and she moved to sit beside Alex while I took up position on her other side. Mom sat on the end beside me.

I could wax poetic about the service, the readings, and the hope that suffused the room about how a man really isn’t gone but still living in everything he created around us.

I won’t. Truth was I was bitter and pissed off he was dead, and if it weren’t for the delicate hand clinging to mine, I would have excused myself to the bathroom and swallowed the pills burning a hole in my pocket.

Oh yes, I still had them with me.

I didn’t have any intention to take them, but just knowing they were there offered something. Escape maybe? Or maybe I was hoping in them I would find some sort of clarity, some answers as to why life had to be so goddamn hard.

Or maybe I was just looking for an excuse to have pills in my pocket. An excuse to take them.

Partway through the service, Bellamy laid her head on my shoulder, and all thoughts of the pills blew away. I still barely listened to the preaching. Instead, I leaned my cheek against the top of her head and thought about the times when the snow would melt on the mountain and grass would reach up toward the sun.

I was always sour because there wasn’t enough snow to board. I was bored, I’d claim.

Dad taught me to play baseball out there under the sun. Said there was more to do outdoors than just board. We both knew my first and only love would be snowboarding but sitting here now as a man I didn’t really know delivered words about hope and loss, I appreciated those days under the rays of the sun with green beneath my feet.

I remembered what it was like to hear the crack of the bat against the ball and the sound of his voice telling me to run.

These were the types of things I would remember about Renshaw Mattison. These were the types of memories that would live on.

I was partly startled when Bellamy slipped her hand out of mine and gave my thigh a light squeeze. I sat back and gazed down at her. “It’s over,” she murmured.

I leaned down and touched our lips together. The sound of my deep exhale through my nose as I held our lips together sounded kinda like a prayer. When I pulled back, her eyes were still closed, so I dropped a whisper-like kiss on the tip of her nose.

Her eyes reopened when I pulled back, and it struck me then that the normally bright blue of her irises wasn’t. The color was more a deep bruise, as if all the pain she’d been experiencing had tainted her stare.

“Can we talk?” she asked, quiet.

I started to answer, but Mom appeared just behind my shoulder. “Liam. We need to move to the reception area. People will want to greet us.”

Yes, by all means, let me put other people at ease by taking on their grief and adding it to my own.

I didn’t say that. Instead, I stood and gestured for Mom to lead the way. Before trailing after her, I took both Bells’s hands and tugged her to her feet. “C’mon.”

We got stopped a half dozen times on the way, but it seemed easier to nod and smile when Bellamy’s hand was entwined with mine.

In the reception room, Mom took in our joined hands, and a concealed look of disapproval passed behind her eyes. “Liam, maybe Bellamy would be more comfortable at the table. She looks about ready to drop.”

“Yes,” I murmured, glib. “Stress will do that to you.”

Mom let the remark pass and reached out for our first greeter.

I turned to escort Bells to the table, but she let go of my hand and stepped back. “I’ll go sit with Alex.”

My teeth gnashed together because she shouldn’t be going to Alex. She should be staying at my side.

I let her go. Mom might have been trying to be bitchy, but the truth was Bellamy did look about ready to fall over.

This was clearly getting to her. It was beyond transparent to me that shielding her from afar was not an option anymore.

I spoke to an ungodly amount of people, all the while wondering why this was some kind of tradition. Why should the beleaguered be responsible for making those less beleaguered feel better?

Eventually, the bitterness splashing over my tongue was too much to swallow. I wanted to go sit with my girl and my best friend. Resting a palm on the small of Mom’s back, I leaned down toward her ear. “I think we should go in and sit. People won’t eat until we do.”

Mom gasped slightly. “You’re right.” She grimaced. “I have no desire to eat.”

“Me either. Maybe just make a small announcement to tell everyone to enjoy the refreshments.”

She nodded, and I moved to guide her along. She didn’t move as fast as I wanted. Instead, she patted on my waist.

Glancing down, I said, “What’s the matter?”

“I think someone is here to see you,” she said, lifting a hand to someone who just appeared in the door.

I looked up. Surprise burst inside me, and before I could react, a woman launched forward into my arms.