Dreary weather and funerals must be lovers. I’ve never attended one where the sun shines and birds sing. It’s always one step away from a post-war scene, all doom and despair underneath a gray sky.

The Holy Cross of St. John Cemetery sucks beyond the norm. A murder of crows rattle and caw to the onlookers while perched in a nearby row of barren trees.

Josie’s parents can’t be dead, or at least I keep questioning it. Every time I think of them, my emotions brim too close to the edge and it feels as if speaking the word might break the dike I hold in check.

It’s easy to see that Josie brims over with emotion. Her eyes beg to be in the cold earth with those fucking caskets. It’s my first time to ever attend a double funeral and I hope it’s the last.

“Poor baby,” Mom whispers to me. “She looks like she’s about to fall apart. Leo looks like he’s handling it better.”

I can only nod. Leo’s messed up, too. But he’ll be okay in the long run. I’m not so sure about Josie.

A bitter east wind swirls around the bottom of my gray wool coat. Josie looks cold. Alone. She’s shaking her head like she’s answering the minister.

I tune into his words. “Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul…”

Mercy? I’m confused as to the merciful part of leaving someone like Josie without the people she loves.

“…earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”

Josie sways, and Leo puts his arm around her. She needs me up there. Her brother shouldn’t have to carry her grief. He’s burdened with his own pain.

“…we commit Jeremy and Haley Jensen to the ground.” The minister walks over and bends his head to say something to Josie. She shakes her head and uses the backs of her hand to wipe the wet of her cheeks. I can see the way she intakes gulps of air. Goddamn, she’s miserable. Somebody do something.

Before I even know what I'm doing, I weave through the bodies that stand three deep between me and Josie. There’s no way I can stand back.

Although Josie wears a coat, I remove mine and drape it over her shoulders. Her startled gaze tells me she’s not very aware of her surroundings. She’s been solely inside her head during the entire service.

She steps closer to me or maybe I close the distance. Another second passes, and I wrap my arm around her back for support.

“I can’t do it,” she whispers, the words so low I almost missed them.

“I’ve got you,” I mutter.

Maybe most people go through the motions at the funeral. I’m sure that’s the case for Josie and Leo. Up close, I see that Leo hasn’t slept for a while. Josie begins crying harder, punctuated with cruel hiccups that jerk her entire body. I pull her against my chest. I don't care that we have an audience.

Afterward, some of Mrs. Jensen’s friends hold a wake at the Jensen’s house. Leo walks through the house accepting condolences and comforting others as if he's so much stronger than everybody else. And he probably is. I’ve always looked up to my level-headed friend.

After an hour, Josie disappears. I search several rooms before I find her. “Why are you in here?” I look around the room at craft projects that Mrs. Jensen will never finish.

She shrugs and follows my gaze. “This room feels the most like her.”

I take the lid from a heavy woven basket and peer inside. “You ever do any of this stuff?”

“No. Not really good with crafts. Mom tried to teach me how to knit one summer, but I ended up with this crazy yarn ball that was pretty unrecognizable.”

“I can't knit either,” I say it in all seriousness, but she laughs at me.

“Oh yeah?” She grabs the box of tissues and wipes her red nose.

“It’s puzzling. I have fine motor skills like a champ when it’s football. But then I can’t do anything like that,” I say pointing at the knitting basket. “Or drawing. You think I’m kidding? You ever see me draw anything? Leo is the artist.”

She stares at me for a full minute and I’m not sure if she’s gone somewhere else inside that pretty head of hers. I’m trying to distract her and make her laugh when all she wants is to be alone with her thoughts and her mother’s things.

“You are bad at it. You’re right.” She sits back on the floor. “Come sit with me. Unless you want to go back out there.”

“I want to be where you are.” I sit on the floor and then decide to get comfortable and sprawl out beside her. The sun is down and shadows filled the room. Soon, it will be dark and we’ll have to turn on a lamp to see each other.

She lets her head fall back and studies the ceiling. “How’s school? I hear people say you might have a chance of going pro football.”

“That could be. Maybe. You never know.”

“But you’ll get your degree first, right?”

“It would be the smart thing to do. Mom wants me to get my degree and take over the bar for Dad.”

“Hmmm. What about Marty? What’s he say?”

“Dad puffs out his chest whenever he thinks I have a chance at going pro.”

I’m glad were talking about anything that doesn’t make her sad. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t like you as a blonde. I mean it’s just different. I think you were meant to be a brunette.”

“Fuck off.”

I adopt a perfectly shocked expression. “You’ve gotten a dirty mouth at college.”

I tilt my head to study her. Man, she’s even more gorgeous than I remember. And the blonde hair is actually hot. Too hot. I don’t want to imagine the guys who are after her.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispers without looking at me. Reaching across to grab my hand in the dark, she gives it a tug. “Take me somewhere, anywhere, anywhere that’s not so sad. I don’t want to stay in this room another minute and I can’t talk to people.”

“Do you want to tell Leo we’re leaving?”

A flicker of panic crosses her face. I put my hand on her arm. “Or we can just leave. You know he’s fine. He’s running on automatic out there. If he could leave, he would.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

"Butterfly? We can sneak out the back if you want…” I get up and lift her by her hands. I don't begin to understand what she's going through. But I do know that Leo is probably okay out there. I doubt he even knows we’re back here in their mother’s craft room.

Josie walks down the long hallway with me behind her. We make a stop at the end to grab our coats from a closet and walk into the family room without stopping to talk to anyone. Leo stands at the opposite end deep in conversation with a middle-aged woman. He makes eye contact with Josie. She merely points to the door, and he nods in some freaky twin communication.

“Let’s go,” she says and we’re out the door.

“I’m in the Tahoe.” I lead the way to a dark brown SUV several yards away.

I'm thankful that I didn't park somewhere I’d be hemmed in with no way to escape. At this point, I’d call a cab to take us out of here.

“Where to?” I ask.

I crank up the heat and glance across at Josie, who looks remarkably better since we got into the vehicle. The glow of the dash lights illuminates the only traces of her sorrow – puffy red-rimmed eyes.

“Take me somewhere loud,” she says.

I don’t question her request. I drive downtown and find a public parking lot. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” She stares out the window. We park and before long we are walking down the sidewalk through the crowd. I grab her hand so we won’t be separated and look for clubs that might fit what she needs. All the clubs have live music, a trademark of Nashville’s Row. But some are tamer than others.

Loud dance music leads me to the next club in our path. The inside of the place is a kaleidoscope of neon lights. A low base thumps in my bones as we find a table. Josie drapes her coat over a chair and looks around the room.

A waitress appears and asks for our drink order. We ask for a couple of sodas, even though I'm sure Josie has a fake ID. But we’re not here to party—it’s purely a form of escape. Something to make us feel like part of the living.

Before the waitress can return with our drinks, Josie leans forward. “Dance with me.”

The dance floor, a square the size of a postage stamp, makes it difficult to do anything but dance close to someone. Josie raises both arms in the air and sways in time to the music. She’s still in her black funeral dress and I’m in my suit. We have more than one curious look thrown our way.

One thing I’ve always liked about Josie… She couldn't give two shits about what other people think.

There’s a mixture of people grinding against each other and some old-school patrons who two-step. Josie and I are somewhere in the middle—the light touch of my hand on her hip says we’re friendly, yet a solid six inches between us marks a definite boundary.

She still looks incredibly sad. Her eyes are closed and her chin down. The dance floor is so packed, I don't notice the guy at first. He squeezes in next to us and makes a move like he’s going to dance with Josie. Before he can get too comfortable, I grab his upper arm–a bony arm—and yank him out of the way.

Josie never even notices.

The musicians start a slow song, a cover from one of those 70s hair bands. The crowd changes a little, and Josie and I stand in place. Hardly thinking about my next move, I take one step to close the distance between us and fold her into my arms. Press her ear to my chest and above my heart. Her arms wind around my neck and her body matches up to mine.

For the love of God, don’t get a hard-on now. Think about my schedule next week. Or about that paper due in Finance 101 on international trade. That should do it.

I relax. And then she melts against my chest and her hair smells like summer and…hard-on.

There’s no way to stop my body at this point. She’ll either detect my propensity to be a total dick or she’ll ignore it. Then I go a step further on the road to paradise and nuzzle the top of her head. "Feel better?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she answers and her hips line up to mine perfectly. She lifts her head and our breaths mingle.

Only a dog would take advantage of her now. But I want to kiss her so badly that the magnetic pull of her lips makes me lean toward her in slow motion.

She must sense the inevitability. She drops her face and presses it into my suit jacket.

This is the story of our lives. She takes one step forward, and I take one step back. I pursue, and she runs.

I don’t understand it, really. But something has changed during the last minute, and I can’t get it back. The song ends and without a word, she leads the way off the dance floor and to our table. She grabs her coat and I throw a twenty on the table for the waitress, being careful not to let Josie out of my sight.

Then we’re on the sidewalk and heading toward the parking lot, three blocks up. She’s practically running now, and I just don’t get it. I didn’t kiss her, didn't put my hands on her body in the way I wanted to, and didn’t exactly ravish her on the dance floor.

“What did I do to piss you off?” I hit unlock on my key fob.

“I’m just tired.”

The most irritating part of our relationship is I know her better than I know myself some days. And she’s lying. “Yeah, whatever.”

I regret my tone the minute the words leave my lips. She's dealing with her dead parents and if any time isn’t the right one, it’s now. Josie flings her car door open and hops in before I can do anything about it. I walk around and slide into the driver seat.

“Listen. I'm sorry,” I say with a sincere plea in my voice. “I’m really, really sorry. You know I’m the number one dumb ass and back there on the dance floor I got caught up in the moment and

almost—”

“It’s not your fault. It’s all me. I’m the dumb ass. I just really needed somebody, and I took advantage of you.”

Take advantage of me! “I’m here for you in whatever way you need me.”

“You don’t get it. I was this close,” she says while holding her thumb and pointer finger in close proximity to each other, “to kissing you. And that kiss would’ve led to a lot more.”

Her words sizzle into me like an electrical shock. “You didn’t have to stop. I wanted it to happen.”

“No, you feel sorry for me. Okay maybe sorry is the wrong word. You wanted to comfort me. But Dane, I have a boyfriend.”

Even though I haven’t started the engine, I reach forward and grip the steering wheel. Hard. I stare through the front windshield and make a concerted effort to slow my breathing. It’s not like I thought she was a nun off at college. But it’s like the universe held out a golden treasure to me and then snapped the lid shut.

“A boyfriend?” Damn the way my voice sounds. Like some wimp whose had his favorite toy taken away.

“Yeah, Shelton and I have been dating for months. It may even be serious.”

What the fuck kind of name is Shelton? And did she have to add the word serious? My heart races and adrenaline hits me like a whip. “Where the hell is this guy? Why wasn’t he at the funeral?”

“He had some exams he couldn’t miss. He’s applied to a summit at—”

“What kind of an asshole doesn't come to his girlfriend’s parents’ funeral?” I would stop a NATO summit to rush home and be with her.

“Don’t get all superior about it. He wanted to come. I told him not to. I mean, look at me. I’m a mess.”

“Exactly. That’s why he should be here. You need to break it off. A guy who won’t be here for you now isn't going to be here when you need him. Because you need him now. Like you needed me.”

She glares at me and a fucking tear slips from her eye. “Don’t. I don’t need this right now. I wanted him to argue and say he’d come anyway. I’m not stupid.”

My throat tightens and I rub a hand over my face. “Butterfly. I’m so sorry—”

“Quit saying it. Just stop. I want to go home. Can you do that? Please.”

“Whatever you want.” I start the engine and we sit idling.

“You’re always there for me,” she says and places her cold hand on my arm. “I just don’t need to start something with you when I’m mad at him. You’re too important to me. Okay?”

“I need to go whip this boy’s ass. Address, please. I’ll give him a summit…” I mumble, more serious than not.

She laughs, but it’s a sad sound. “No need. I don’t think we’ll last long enough for you to hurt him.”

“That’s my girl. Break his heart and tell him adios. For me. Okay?”

She never responds. The trip to Josie’s house is miserably silent.