Sweet tulips and fragrant lilies, the smells of the funeral home closed in on me like a compactor. Everything felt tight—stifling—and the eerie, low hum of people just barely talking felt so wrong.
Camilla was young and full of life, and the fact that she was gone couldn’t have been more obvious in this dusty pink room if they’d tried.
The carpet was well-worn and the subfloor squeaky, and pictures littered the antique tables around the perimeter of a room filled with ornate chairs. It was fancy and top-of-the-line, but not one feature of the converted old house reminded me of my sister.
“Oh, Ivy,” my mother’s friend Lorraine cooed in my ear as she wrapped her arms around me. “Your twin. I can’t even imagine how alone you feel.”
The words, meant to comfort, I was sure, did nothing but incite my anger.
My looks were a curse, and being a twin to Camilla was the sole reason she was gone.
It should have been me.
I swallowed past the thick emotion in my throat and blinked away the tears that never seemed to go away. Lorraine kept talking, but I couldn’t hear a fucking word she was saying. She seemed intent on making this hug last far longer than it needed to, and her old-lady perfume threatened to choke the oxygen out of my tight lungs.
Levi stepped forward from beside me, pulling the frail woman from our embrace and capturing her attention, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
He’d been doing this since the moment we’d arrived at the visitation service this morning—any time my emotions elevated past the baseline agony I knew as my new normal, he stepped in.
He smiled and fawned. He hugged and small-talked. He did everything short of transplanting his body in the place of mine to take the attention off of me—even if it went against everything that came naturally to him.
He wasn’t chatty and he wasn’t social and he didn’t like to be touched by hundreds of strangers at a time, but he dove headfirst into it today—for me.
Unfortunately, the line was never-ending and the comments all the same. As soon as one well-meaning busybody stepped aside, another took his or her place. Not to mention, the low keen of my mother’s wail hadn’t stopped since the start of the receiving line of friends and family. It was suffering and agonized, and I felt bloody and beaten from the intensity of it. I didn’t know how the fuck I was going to survive it through the end of the funeral and repast.
And the words that everyone kept saying to me—words I knew were said with love and care—grated. They were ridiculous and trite, and the fact that anyone thought there was even a possibility of being okay at this point was preposterous.
My sister had just died, for fuck’s sake. God.
I had to take a gulp of air to stave off tears as I remembered the moment Levi told me she’d been pretending to be me. That she’d died saving me.
We’d just arrived in our hotel room in LA, and I hadn’t stopped asking questions about how this could have happened—why it would have happened to Camilla—since our plane had taken off in Montana. Levi’s face had been nearly lifeless as he’d clasped me gently at the tops of my arms and settled me into the cushion of the couch without explanation.
And there, down on his knees, with his heart in his throat, he’d explained it all to me.
He’d started off by letting me know he hadn’t been hiding the details of Camilla’s death from me, but he had been waiting for the right time to explain it all. Which, when it came to the tragic murder of my sister, there was no right time. It was all horrible fucking timing.
But he’d told me nonetheless.
How it had happened. What had been going on when he’d arrived on scene. My sister pretending to be me to protect me from Boyce. His struggle to get a shot as Boyce had taken her from me. How Boyce had thought he was taking my life.
How was I supposed to get over the guilt of that? The reality that if I’d just been awake, Camilla would still be alive?
“You okay?” Levi whispered, pressing the side of his body up against the side of mine. The physical contact felt good, the warmth of his muscular arm seeping into the cold numbness of my own.
“No,” I said simply, clenching my teeth to fight the sting of tears as they pooled behind my nose.
I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t coping. And I wasn’t ready to let Camilla go.
Levi’s small smile was the very last thing I expected. A villain among the frowns and tears of everyone else.
Granted, it was far removed from happy, reeking more of relief than anything else, but I couldn’t reason what place it had here.
I watched the blue swirl in the circular midnight pools of his eyes and basked in the strength of his fingers intertwined with mine. Even when the someone I was rallying to face was him, I flourished under his support.
“Are you relieved that I’m struggling?” I asked through gritted teeth. My volume was low, but Levi took our privacy a step further by leaning down to my ear to answer.
“No, baby,” he assured. “I’m relieved you’re able to admit it. That means I might be able to help. That your family might be able to help.”
I moved back just slightly, enough to study his eyes, but the moment didn’t last.
My mother’s gulping sob cut through my chest and pulled me around to face the front.
Just to the left of my father, she was struggling to stand at the head of our line, her previously crisp black dress wrinkled at the edges from all of the physical contact.
Mary Murphy was in her arms, swallowed by a hug full of grief, and a ratty tissue poked out from my mom’s hand at Mary’s back. Mary was a stranger to my mother, but she was no stranger to my mother’s pain, and the sight of her made me go weak at the knees.
No obligation, no pressure, she and Sam had made the trip from Cold all the way to LA, just to be here for us in our time of need. If I’d ever had any doubts at all that the Murphys were the kind of family you dreamed of holding a place in, they were completely gone now.
Levi noticed my stare, followed the line of it to Mary and Sam, and reached out to squeeze my hand. Despite my short temper with him and everyone else, I took it in my own and clutched it so hard they might permanently join.
He nodded at me when I looked to him, a confirmation that the Murphys traveled here just for this. That I was important enough to them to show up, in my most desperate time of need.
As the familiarity of what she and Sam and Levi had been through over six long years ago pierced my chest, my hand tightened even further in its clutch of Levi’s. He squeezed back and leaned down to kiss my cheek before leaving me to my moment.
I watched raptly as Mary took my mom’s weight and whispered kind words into her ear. For the first time in the service, I found myself eager for the line to move faster—eager to talk and hug and thank someone for coming.
She knew exactly what my family was feeling. Grace was her daughter, and one minute her baby girl, her child, had been on this earth, vibrant and full of life, and the next she’d been gone.
Mary knew. She knew with an intensity that comforted and soothed. That gave reason to my feelings and my pains and put a face to where I might be able to live one day.
Settled in my grief. In no way over it, but certainly to a place where coping was possible.
I listened intently as Mary finally moved on from my mom and introduced herself to my dad. He took her hand in a firm shake, throat tight, but he didn’t pull her into the bone-crushing hug my mother had.
My dad, Dave, was a totally trustworthy guy. Dependable. Funny in the dad-joke kind of way and strong. He was always there for his girls.
But in the face of losing one, he was nothing more than taciturn. Short nods. Small words. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving any of these people any more of himself than a polite greeting.
I didn’t blame him at all.
Where my mom found comfort in crying into nearly anyone’s arms, my dad and I held ourselves removed.
But as Mary stepped over to me and pulled me gently into her arms, I went without reservation. Her hug was warm and solid, and the sweet smell of her wrapped around me only served as a reminder of just how unfair the world was as a whole.
Deep breath expelled, I couldn’t stop the sob that followed as I opened my throat and leaned into the embrace.
“You’re doing so well, Ivy,” Mary murmured into my hair. I nodded into her neck, flourishing under the praise. I didn’t know why it helped so much, but somehow, thinking she was satisfied with the way I was handling everything made me feel validated. If she thought I was starting where I needed to, maybe I’d be able to get to where she was.
“I…” I choked on saliva and started over. “I just can’t believe this happened.”
Mary stroked my hair and hummed softly before responding. “That never goes away. The why, the how, it’ll plague you forever. But by God, the rest of it will get easier. Give yourself time. Give yourself grief. Give yourself whatever it is you need, and lean on those around you.”
I nodded as she pulled back from the hug and tipped her head toward Levi. “Really,” she emphasized. “He’s tall and strong, and he can handle your load. Give it to him.”
“Okay,” I whispered softly.
A gasp sounded from behind me as Sam shoved Mary out of the way and embraced me heartily. The other attendees were taken by surprise by his frankness, obviously, but I was relieved. In fact, a tiny laugh formed in my throat and almost made it to the surface.
A miracle.
“Sam,” I murmured affectionately as he squeezed me tightly. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“When you get to be my age, funerals are about all you get to do outside of the house.”
I shook my head at his obvious joke and placed a small kiss on his cheek. The warmth of his smile took root inside my chest and bloomed as he basked in it.
“Thanks anyway,” I told him again. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please come eat with us after. To the repast. Levi can give you directions.”
He nodded once and slapped Levi and me both on the arms. “Wouldn’t miss it, doll. Like it or not, you’re family now. To us. To Cold. And family looks out for family.”
Truer words had never been spoken. My sister had certainly looked out for me.