I hated this place.
Not because I hated gardens, bees, or fucking butterflies.
But because if you were standing in this garden, there were too many places to hide.
I’d been Navy for too long to love being in the middle of anything with too many places to hide.
I’d done four tours of duty in Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran.
There were just too many places that could hide someone who might be willing to harm me or mine.
“Sir,” the attendant said as he opened my door.
I stepped out, then offered my hand to Sienna.
She took it, wrapped her arm around mine, and together we walked into the middle of my own personal hell.
And, low and behold, my mom and Carron were sitting next to each other in the very front pew where only family was supposed to sit.
“Of course they’re up there,” Sienna mumbled from beside me.
Carron wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but at least I could stand her.
My mom, on the other hand?
Yeah, she was one of those people you either loved or hated. Sienna and I hated her.
And my mom had no one to blame but herself.
“What are you looking at?”
I nearly rolled my eyes at my mom’s snarky voice.
God, she was a horrible person.
“I’m looking at you, sitting in the front seat, when you damn well know that’s only for family,” Sienna snapped back. “Please move where you belong, or leave.”
Sienna was such a ballbuster.
“I will not…” Mom started to say, but Carron, showing her cleverness, stood up and caught my mom’s hand with hers.
My mom went, even though she glared the entire time.
I waited until they were both past, using the opposite side of the chairs to move, before I took my seat at the front. I pulled Sienna down next to me and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
Sienna leaned her head against my shoulder and together we waited for the man to begin the service.
We didn’t have to wait long.
We didn’t tell anyone we were having the service today, though my mom and Carron had found out anyway. Most likely, the nice lady at the funeral home hadn’t known that we wanted to keep it private and had shared that information.
“Ready, son?”
I nodded at the man and he began talking about not an ending to life but a beginning. Or whatever the fuck.
I was what you would call agnostic.
I didn’t believe in God but didn’t not believe.
It wasn’t because I didn’t want to believe, but because I just felt like I needed to see to believe. And I hadn’t seen.
The preacher looked from my sister to me.
“Grief is like an ocean.” He smiled a small smile that hurt to see. “It’s deep and dark and bigger than all of us put together. Then there’s the pain that follows that grief. It’s deep and all-encompassing. Quiet and persistent. Really, really unfair.” He looked toward my sister. “Time diminishes that pain, but you have to live those days. Those weeks. Those months first. Then one day, you’ll wake up, and he won’t be the first thing you think about.” The preacher flipped his notecard over. “One day, you’ll get up to let the dog out. You’ll go to the coffeepot. You’ll turn it on, and then you’ll pull his favorite coffee mug out of the cabinet and you will remember.”
I felt those words in my soul.
My dad being gone was the first thing I thought about and the last thing that flashed through my mind before I went to bed.
He’d been my best friend. My confidant. My sounding board for when I wanted to start a new project.
“The next day, you’ll go through the same routine, but this time, you won’t remember your loved one until you go to empty out that dishwasher and you’re reminded all over again.” He nodded as if he’d felt that multiple times. “Then a day passes where you didn’t think of him at all. And then you’ll go through the guilt stage of ‘how could I forget?’” He smiled sadly. “It gets better. One day. One breath. One single second at a time.”
There was a loud sneeze from behind me, and I couldn’t help it, I turned around to look.
CHAPTER 3
I’m related to a man that went to jail for fucking horses. Neigh means neigh.
-Text from Simi to Coffey
SIMI
God bless America.
My sneezes would be the death of me.
Why did I have to sneeze so freakin’ loud?
I usually liked to be very incognito at the funerals I attended.
Yet, me and my damn sneeze from hell had ensured that wouldn’t be happening.
I all but froze when the four people in attendance, plus the man performing the service, all turned to look at me.
I smiled apologetically and dropped my eyes.
But not before I got a good look at the man from the limo.
I’d seen him get out of the car earlier and offer his arm to the woman, that was obviously his sister.
I had gotten a really great look at his body, which was decorated with a perfectly fitted suit, but I hadn’t seen his face or his eyes.
But now, with him currently staring back at me with eyes the color of barely blue glass, I was frozen solid.
The man had a lovely shade of tanned skin that I only managed at the end of summer, jet-black hair that was so black it was almost blue, and very manly hands that didn’t seem to fit his perfectly fitted suit.
His face fit the suit, though.
He had high cheekbones, a prominent jaw, and a barely there beard that said more about him not doing as good the last few days with his father’s passing than he was likely willing to admit.
I wanted to cup that beautiful jaw with my hands and press my lips to his.
And wow, what a set of lips.
His were plump and juicy. Not overly so, in the fake filler way that women and men were starting to sport nowadays, but in a lovely, kissable way.
But God. His eyes.
They were like looking into a photoshopped picture of the sexiest man in the world.
I felt like I’d swallowed a bug when he finally turned around, releasing my soul with his gaze.
My heart was pounding, and I had the urge to run.
I shouldn’t have come.
I should’ve listened to my sisters, realized how freakin’ weird it was to attend random funerals, and stayed home.
Yet, I hadn’t.
Shit, shit, shit.
I licked my lips nervously as the man up front finally finished his speech and asked if anyone would like to speak of the man who’d died.
I looked at the photo at the front and felt a weird feeling of uneasiness flow through me.
This man was well loved. The two people in front had adored him, and they wouldn’t be taking his death well.
The same couldn’t be said for the two women beside me farther down the row.
It was apparent that neither one of them cared very much for the man who’d died, yet they were there to look at the siblings at the front. Gauge how they were taking the death.
“And that concludes the service for Damian Merritt Simiencia.”
I waited, my head down, for the siblings to be escorted down the aisle before I made my escape.
I didn’t go far.
Just to the diner across the street as I waited for my brother to make his rounds.