That last hope had drained away when I pulled into the parking lot and saw my parents' car in the lot. Now all I had was detachment, and fucking despair.
My sister Claire was the first to notice me hovering in the background. "JoJo!" she cried, in that voice of hers where you don't know if she's going to hug you or slug you.
I let out a laugh that was more like an exhale than anything else. "Hey," was all I managed to say. The casket was looming there in the front. I couldn't take my eyes off it.
"There you are!" my mother cried, immediately stepping past my blank faced brothers to fold me into her arms. She had a way of pulling you down into her hugs, trapping you in a hunched over posture that quickly grew uncomfortable, but there'd be hell to pay if you tried to wiggle out of her embrace. You had to let her hold you for as long as she needed.
She needed to hold on to me a long while now. I sort of got it. I didn't mean to let two years go by without returning to Crown Creek. I really didn't. Not intentionally, anyway. It was just a matter of having a lot of work to do, being so damn busy carving out a solo career, rebuilding from the ashes of the King Brothers.
"Hey there," I said to her, because what else was there to say? I tried to straighten up without disturbing my mother's hug and caught my father's eye. "Dad," I sighed. "I'm so sorry."
My father blinked once and then nodded. He was never one for outward displays of affection, that was my mom's job. "You drive here?" he asked me.
"There's really no other way to get all the way out here, right?" I replied, standing up as my mother finally released me. "Crown Creek isn't exactly a hotbed for public transit.
Dad let the snarky comment slide. "How's your rental?"
"It's fine, Dad."
"Did you check the air pressure in the tires?"
I blinked. "It's a rental. They do that for you."
"Jonah's used to having people do things for him." Gabe piped up, managing to smile wide enough that everyone laughed except me.
"It's a rental," I repeated.
But my Dad was already putting on his coat, mumbling about checking the oil. As he stepped aside, the casket came back into view again.
I ducked past my sister's eager smile, my mom's sad one, and my brothers' uniform glowers. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the funeral director hovering, like a black-suited shadow. The service was most definitely over now, and they were probably waiting to whisk my uncle out of sight, down to the crematory to reduce him to nothing more than gray ashes.
I swallowed back the bile this thought raised. Fuck it. They could wait. "I'm going up there," I told them all. "To say goodbye." If my brothers wanted to give me any kind of shit - whether about being late, being successful without them, or maybe just about the shoes I was wearing - they were going to have to do it while I was saying goodbye to my uncle.
There was a kneeler set up by the side of the casket. I supposed it was there in case I wanted to say a prayer for Gid's soul, but he didn't need that from me. Better or worse, he was already headed to where he was ending up. This moment was all for me.
I forced myself to look down at the body. The set of Gid's mouth was all wrong, and his hair was combed straight back all neat and proper like instead of falling all over the place like a gray-maned lion.
"You look like shit, man," I said under my breath.
This would have normally earned me a smart retort, maybe a smack on the back of the head and then an invite down to the shed for a jam session and a sip - "just a sip so your dad doesn't kill me" - from the 'good Scotch.' I'd had all different kinds of Scotch by now, but none had been so smooth, so perfectly balanced as the stuff my uncle would slip me.
I blinked and then blinked again. Gid was the dad I should have had, I'd always secretly believed it. He was the one who'd given me my first guitar. He was the one who'd taught me to watch people's eyebrows so eye contact didn't freak me out, a trick I'd used in countless interviews since then. Gid had sat there quietly and listened to my dreams, and more than that, he'd told me I'd make them happen. Instead of telling me to be practical and have a back-up plan like the man I'd actually called Dad. Gid was my cheerleader, the only one who understood the all consuming ambition that drove me, and instead of calling me crazy, he'd celebrated it. Maybe he thought the music I played was shit - he'd definitely told me that once or twice or twenty times - but he always admired me for devoting my life to playing it.
I blinked again. The tear fell before I could catch it and landed on Gid's navy-blue lapel where it pooled for a moment before soaking in to the fabric.
I reached back and pulled out my flask. My hands were shaking, but I managed to get it unscrewed. The quick sip burned the tears away and I took a deep breath. It was good Scotch. Just like Gid liked.
The funeral director cleared his throat, I had half a mind to give him the finger, but an idea occurred to me.
Quick, before I could think about it, I slipped the flask in next to Gid's arm. "Here, Uncle Gid," I whispered. "In case you get thirsty."
I stepped back quickly before I lost my shit completely. The hovering shadow got closer and I nodded. "Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I'm done."
I was done. Gid was gone.
I felt like a part of me had died alongside him.
I blinked away so I didn't have to see them close the coffin and wheel it out of sight, and that was when I saw my sister's friend Ruby watching me and realized she had seen the whole thing.
Chapter Three
Jonah
Ruby was looking at me like I'd just undone my belt and taken a shit on the carpet. I lifted my hand in salute and she turned back to talking with my sister's friends like she was done with me.
But that was all an act, because she clearly wasn't done yet. She caught up with me again in the vestibule, as we all stood there arguing about who was driving who to the wake.
"You've got a lot of nerve," she said. It came out in a hiss between her teeth as she tugged her coat on so hard she popped a seam.
I looked down at her. I usually hated short hair on girls, but I had to admit this new haircut worked for her. Made her huge, dark eyes look even huger, and her delicate, heart shaped face even more doll-like.
Ruby Riley had always seemed like the most level-headed of my spoiled little sister's best friends. I'd picked up her story here and there, how her dad had died of a heart attack when she was ten and her mother had to work two jobs all the time. It meant she spent a lot of time at our house, underfoot, but I'd never thought she had any reason to dislike me.
Of course, she'd never seemed to really like me either. Not like Claire's other friend Willa who was forever trying to bring me snacks.
But she also wasn't an airhead like that girl Sadie, who was always mooning over something and spent a frightening amount of time pretending to be a horse.
No, of the four of them, Ruby was the least annoying, and I included my sister in that count.
Which was why I couldn't figure out why she was being so annoying right now. She'd said something about Gid being her friend, but he was my goddamn uncle for chrissakes, so it wasn't like she had any right to get her panties in a twist about me being late.