“Where’s Ryder?”
“We left him with your aunt Leah,” my mom says, then asks, “Have you been up yet?”
I shake my head.
“Come on. You can’t hide back here forever.”
She knows me well. I go with my parents, shuffling forward with the line. Every step closer, my nerves fray a little more.
There’s a large, framed picture of Carrie on a stand in front of the flowers. I can’t bring myself to look at it or the casket next to it, but even out of my peripheral, I recognize the photo. Two years ago, she had headshots taken for her college newspaper, where she wrote a weekly column. She was so damn proud—her smile had been so big as she told me about it. She’s not smiling in the picture, though. She wanted to keep it professional and serious. I’m glad it’s not a smiley, happy photo. I don’t know why. Not like it would make a difference.
I manage through tearful hugs from her mom, dad, and grandparents, and I’m thankful that my parents do most of the talking. And that her mother doesn’t yell and scream at me for breaking her daughter’s heart. I half expected that sort of reaction from her. She is so protective of Carrie. Was so protective. Fuck.
Actually it’s her dad I should be worried about. Cam is ex-military and could break me like a twig if he wanted to. Age has only made him stronger and scarier. He doesn’t though. No one seems to blame me. No one but myself.
My family and I step off to the side near the doorway to the hall.
“Your hair is too long. I can barely see your face.” Mom smooths back the long strands hanging in my eyes. Hiding me. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say because I am. And because I’m not allowed to be anything but fine. I broke up with her. Sure, I still care about her. Cared now, I guess. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don’t know what to think, let alone say out loud.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. I don’t feel like I should be here mixing with all the people that were still a part of her life. People that hadn’t brought pain to her recently or cast her aside. I’m an imposter. A has been. Maybe only by a couple of months, but I can’t shake the uneasiness or desire to get out of here.
My mom pulls her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “We should get home. I’m making pies and casseroles for tomorrow, and I have a roast in the Crock-Pot. Will you be back for dinner?”
I can’t even think about eating. “The guys and I will probably grab something before we head back.”
“Okay.” She leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Don’t be too late.”
Loosening my tie, I keep my head down as I walk back to my spot next to the guys. Even still, I’m stopped by a guy from high school. Jim or Jimmy, I think. He doesn’t offer up his name as he leans forward and embraces me.
“I’m so sorry, man,” he says. He smacks me on the back as he squeezes.
“Thank you.” When I speak, my voice cracks.
He pulls back and checks my expression. I duck my head and walk away before he can say anything else. Maybe that’s rude, but so is hugging someone without warning.
Mav hands me a bottle of water.
“I’m good.”
He keeps his arm extended until I finally give in and take it from him. I unscrew the cap and take a long drink, then promptly cough because this isn’t fucking water. Vodka burns my throat and heats my chest.
The guys huddle around me as people start to look in our direction.
“Little warning would have been good,” I manage to get out. I glance around. Jim or Jimmy has broken the ice, and more people I went to high school with are looking my way like they might come say hello. I’d rather eat Tide pods. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You’re sure?” Adam asks.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Rhett!” I look up as Carrie’s mom, Cory, calls my name. She waves a hand in the air and holds her head up to see over the crowd.
“Go ahead. I’ll meet you guys outside,” I say to Mav and Adam.
Adam squeezes my shoulder as they leave.
Cory clutches a tissue in her hands. “You’re welcome to stand up front with us. People are asking about you. They want to offer their condolences to you, too.”
“Oh, uh, thank you, but I wouldn’t feel right.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Why not? You’re like family.” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. Her eyes fill with tears, and I flex my jaw to keep my composure. “She loved you so much. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. You’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and be with us at least? We’ll get through this together.”
“Do you think they know we were broken up?” I stare straight ahead at the bottles of liquor lined up behind the bar. My gaze keeps snagging on the coconut-flavored vodka. It was Carrie’s favorite.
“I don’t know,” Adam says. “Was she close with them?”
“Yeah, pretty close. She talked to her mom every other day or so.” Which means she’d definitely talked to her since we broke up.
Mav slides another shot along the bar in front of me. “So, what if she didn’t mention you broke up. What’s the big deal?”
I glance around. “Keep it down.”
“What?”
“It’s not that big of a town, and I’d rather Carrie’s family not hear the news from the local gossip.”
“Are you going to tell them?” Adam asks.
“I don’t know. How do you bring that up?” I shake my head.
“Get through the weekend and then…” His words trail off.
And then what? Grow a new heart and brain? Forget this ever happened?
“Thank you guys for being here.” I toss back the liquor. Logically I know I have to be drunk by now, but I feel nothing.
“Are you kidding? We fly together. Quack, quack, quack.” Mav flaps his arms.
“Uhhh, what?” I’m not drunk enough to understand whatever he’s communicating. Or too drunk, hard to say.
“Mighty Ducks!”
“No.” Adam shakes his head. “Never refer to us as the Mighty Ducks again.”
“Why not?” Mav looks crestfallen. “You can be Charlie.”
“Who does that make you?” I ask.
“Please, I’m a bash brother, of course.”
“Of course,” I say, looking to Adam.
Adam’s phone pings. I’m sure it’s Reagan. I don’t ask, just go back to staring down into my beer.
“Heard from Sienna?” Adam asks, setting his phone on the bar. It pings again, and this time I glance down to see Reagan’s name flash across the screen.
“Yeah, she’s been great.” I wish she were here so badly, but maybe it’s a good thing considering Carrie’s parents might think we were still dating.
“I need to book my flight back tomorrow. What time you think?” Mav asks.
“You guys don’t need to stay. I appreciate it, but there’s nothing to do.”
“There’s an eleven o’clock or a five.”
“Five puts us back at what time?” Adam asks.
They’re checking airlines to find the best option and I’m wondering what the hell I’m even doing here.