The Boss

Chapter 18

Chaz

Iwas too aware of Jamie seated mere feet from me, and I struggled to focus on thanking people for coming as they passed by me after a moment or two by Shelly’s casket.

We’d had to keep the lid closed due to her injuries, but I’d been forced to see the damage to her body in order to properly identify her at the hospital. I’d barely made it to the bathroom before puking my guts up that night, the sight of lacerations and swollen features haunting enough she visited me in my dreams, telling me to look at her, that I was to blame for what had happened.

My swimmers had been the problem exactly as she’d screamed about, the fallout of which had brought us to this point.

She’d made her choice to fuck another man, but she never would have been down in Berlin on Wednesday if I’d been the father of that baby in her belly. Failure number six-thousand and fifty-three or what the fuck ever, proven true by irrefutable evidence.

No one knew about the longed-for pregnancy as far as I was aware, and our corner of the world never would. According to her text, she’d only found out that morning, and I had to wonder if she’d had a chance to tell Tara or the baby’s father.

I’d been at the shop all day every day since the accident, thankful Dad had seen to the funeral arrangements so I was free to lose myself in work rather than stewing in truth and lies. Whiskey helped me with the quiet hours at home, probably more than was healthy, but I couldn’t fucking deal with the constant thoughts in my head. Especially those which made me feel even more guilty.

Relief.

No one hounded me about being late. A shrill voice no longer ranted every day about what I did or didn’t do. There was no more gaslighting. No arguments. Just quiet—what should have been peacefulness—but my brain didn’t allow such a thing.

“Why am I here?”

Shelly’s mom asked loudly, startling me along with a lot of the people in the hushed room. “I just don’t understand! I want to go home!”

Her whining sounded just like Shelly, but I forced myself to think about my mother-in-law’s complete lack of memory rather than get pissed off she disrupted what was supposed to be a few hours of respect for her last known relative.

It would have been for the best if she’d stayed at the nursing home, but Dad had insisted she deserved to be present for her daughter’s wake. It’d been two years since she’d recognized Shelly in a moment of clarity and even longer that she remembered I was her son-in-law.

“I want to go home!”

she hollered again, growing agitated in her wheelchair.

The nurse attempted to soothe her, at least getting Shelly’s mom to lower her voice.

Dad approached and spoke quietly to the nurse before glancing at me, his gaze stating his intention to remove her from the room to stop further disruption and embarrassment.

Whatever. He’d been the cause of it by insisting she be present. Her being there was begging for trouble. Might as well let him handle the situation because I had zero patience for it.

I nodded, and they wheeled her away, allowing me to breathe a little easier.

The line waiting for a moment of prayer over Shelly’s casket continued out the door where the trio left, and I expected it spread down the hallway and into the parking lot beyond. I appreciated everyone showing respect for Shelly, but continued condolences wearied me.

Pippen Creek’s funeral home wasn’t exactly large, so when a townsperson was ready to be laid to rest, the place packed out. An hour in, and my feet were pinched by uncomfortable-as-fuck dress shoes, and the tie choked me. I was to the point of ready to complain along with Shelly’s mom. But I had no excuse for the outburst wanting to erupt from beneath my skin.

Zero.

I grew tired of saying “thanks”

and drumming up smiles for people I held in high esteem or truly appreciated seeing. Countless arms hugged me, perfume and cologne clinging to my nose and causing nausea to brew in my empty stomach.

I checked my watch discreetly while waiting for the next person kneeling beside Shelly’s casket and making the sign of the cross over their chest. One hour to go. I would get through this then head home for a double shot of whiskey to help my exhaustion drop me into bed without further thought and hopefully nightmares.

My gaze roamed the room—skipping over Jamie—and snagged on a blonde rounding the corner.

The sight of the nurse from Berlin leached the blood from my face as I tried to pay attention to the person moving to stand in front of me and offer their sympathy. How much had Tara been involved in Shelly’s life? Obviously, she’d known of Shelly’s affair, her interactions with that man in the ER proof enough she’d been a trusted confidant to them both about their secret relationship.

I kept an eye on her as the line slowly moved, my focus on her rather than the people attempting to comfort me with meaningless sentiments, no matter the intent behind their words. They echoed one after the other, their compassion falling on deaf ears.

Tara stood before the casket, her lips murmuring as though offering a goodbye that shouldn’t have been forced onto either of them. Her shoulders lifted as though inhaling a bracing breath, and she turned toward me.

Our gazes caught, and I waited, my stomach tight and pulse heightened.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,”

she murmured kindly even though she probably hated me out of loyalty to her best friend. Who the hell knew what kinds of stories she’d heard about our miserable home life.

I nodded my thanks while noting her red-rimmed eyes.

“We’ve never met, but I’m Tara,”

she said, extending her hand. “Shelly’s friend from Berlin.”

Accepting her greeting, I nodded but had no fucking clue what to say. Ask forgiveness for being a shitty husband to her bestie? Offer my own condolences over the loss of someone she had loved probably better than I’d been able to?

Her smile wobbled when I didn’t speak, and our palms fell away from each other’s. “Here.”

She pulled a card from her bag and held it out to me. “If you ever wanted to meet up for coffee sometime…”

“Thanks,”

I managed to say, accepting the card and tucking it into my pocket.

A small smile, and she moved off.

I caught Jamie eyeing her as walked away, his brow furrowed and eyes thoughtful.

“Chaz.”

I turned to the next person in line and actually smiled. “Hey, Babs.”

She threw her arms around me, squeezing me tight, offering me one of the few hugs I didn’t mind being forced to accept. “Not sure how I feel about all of this to be honest.”

Huh. Definitely not what I’d expected her to say.

“Don’t let this loss stop you from living, boy,”

she continued beside my ear, keeping her voice quiet. “You’ve got so many years ahead of you that can be filled with joy. Deal with whatever it is you need to, then move forward. The sooner the better for everyone involved.”

I didn’t take offense at what some might call insensitivity. That was Babs’s way, how she always offered advice, her intentions coming from an accepting, loving heart.

“Thanks, Babs,”

I said as she released me.

She glanced over at Jamie, who watched us from where he still sat like a sentinel, hands clasped lightly on his lap. His intense focus sent a shiver over my skin, and I tore my gaze off him to meet Babs’s understanding and too-knowing eyes.

“You have a good friend in that young man. Best you let him help you through these times. No need to face grief on your own, and no one will judge you for finding comfort in a man who would move heaven and hell to see you smiling again. It’s been long enough as it is.”

I nodded, my throat tight.

She moved off and was replaced with another person from the seemingly endless line.

Babs’s words echoed long after she walked away. The town gossip was intuitive as fuck after spending thirty or so years behind the police station’s receptionist desk and wasn’t easily surprised.

And her advice? Golden to anyone else standing in my shoes and looking for an excuse to stride forward without a backward glance.

But too much shame had its hooks in me, keeping me from even glancing at the man she’d given me her blessing to fall into. I could feel his eyes on me though. The want between us hadn’t faded in the midst of what should have been grief far beyond what anyone should ever experience.

The finality of Shelly’s death had settled over me upon seeing her bruised and broken face. I’d accepted her absence from my future. And I hated myself for the relief that mingled with sadness over the passing of someone who’d once been a good friend to me.

Another half hour slid by, the warmth of the room dictating I rip off the restrictive suit coat, but I gritted my teeth and dealt with the misery of being in a place I wished to flee from.

Still, they came.

Business owners, local officials, including the chief who clasped my back when hugging me. His comfort, the fatherly affection I’d enjoyed as a kid, was the first to threaten tears to my eyes all night.

“If you need anything…”

Sutton didn’t have to say more, the promise of his support already assured from years acting as a stand-in father when mine couldn’t be bothered to take an interest in his only son.

“Thanks, Chief,”

I managed to reply past the lump in my throat.

My gaze caught Jamie’s as his dad moved on, the empathy and love in his eyes causing a whine to build in my chest I struggled to contain. Now was not the time for the dam to break, for me to reveal to the world who my heart beat for while my wife’s no longer did.

I would stand on my own two feet through this. Retain privacy for the embarrassing feelings and thoughts in my mind. Allowing Jamie in right now, accepting his help and comfort as Babs had told me to, would only worsen my sense of humiliation, not make me more confident like I wanted to be. I couldn’t begin to imagine my father’s horror if he learned the truth of both affairs, or how he would react to my moving on too quickly.

One step and supportive town’s member at a time.

I hastily wiped the wetness from my cheek, cleared my throat, and readied for the next in line.

It was him—the man from the ER.

My dead wife’s lover and the father of her longed-for child who never had a chance to draw its first breath.

Rage should have consumed me as he paused beside Shelly’s casket, hands clasped in a white-knuckled grip before him. Pale and haggard, he looked like he’d slept about as good as I did in his black suit and tie that had cost a shit ton more than what Mom had bought off the rack for me. His body twitched nonstop either from absolute exhaustion or from fear for showing up in Pippen Creek where, if anyone knew his truth, he would be crucified for betraying one of their own.

As if I hadn’t done the very same thing.

Still, the absolute balls on the man made me feel…less than. I could respect the hell out of a guy who would face down an entire town to offer a final word to the woman he’d adored. He was the type who would move mountains for his lover if he’d been able to.

My attempts to please Shelly paled in comparison.

Humiliation kept me still and quiet when most husbands would have smashed their fist into flesh and bone. Besides, I refused to cause an outburst that would disrupt the crowd as thoroughly as Shelly’s mom had done. Wouldn’t give my father the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart like he probably expected my weak ass to do.

I allowed my wife’s lover his last moments with the woman he’d wanted as desperately as I had always longed for Jamie.

If my best friend’s body had been inside that casket?—

Fuck.

Pain ripped through my chest, catching my breath.

Couldn’t even go there or I would lose my shit worse than Shelly’s lover did while saying his goodbyes with tears streaming down his face.

Swallowing conclusively, he finally turned away, his gaze downcast as he skipped out on the receiving line made up of only me. A sense of urgency overtook me?—

“Excuse me,”

I murmured to whoever waited to offer their condolences next, my focus on the man’s retreating form as I hurried after him.

He exited to the right, and ignoring the long line and curious eyes to the left, I did the same, hot on his heels. Compulsion to take a step toward healing moved my feet faster than they had all week.

“Wait!”

I called out the second the funeral home’s door shut out prying eyes.

A pause, and the man strode faster across the filled lot in an attempt to leave me behind.

“Please!”

I cried out while running after him, not above begging for just a moment of his time. I felt I deserved that much, at least.

His hand shook as he hit a key on his fob, the lights on a Mercedes feet away from him blinking along with a beep. He grabbed the door handle but glanced over his shoulder at me.

Dark eyes filled with anguish met mine, his features and body tensed for confrontation.

I held up my hands to show I meant no harm, slowing to close the distance between us in an unaggressive walk.

He stayed put, his gaze wary, shoulders hitched near his ears.

“You’re—were—my wife’s lover,”

I stated quietly without a hint of anger in my voice. Easily done since her infidelity hadn’t hurt.

He didn’t speak, simply waited for me, probably expecting that fist another man would have used to break his nose.

I wanted closure but not for me. I wasn’t the one who’d been devastated by Shelly’s death in the way a normal, loving husband would have been.

“You made her happy. Gave her everything I couldn’t.”

My rasped admission of failure didn’t hurt as I peered into his wet eyes. Instead, a sense of gratitude eased through my chest at knowing Shelly had found what she’d always wanted. It wasn’t fair she didn’t get the chance to enjoy that life, and for that, I would always mourn.

Still, the man didn’t speak.

“She was going to meet with a lawyer on Thursday to divorce me so she could be with you—the father of her unborn child. Were you aware she was pregnant?”

I asked in no more than a pained whisper.

I didn’t believe it to be possible, but his face turned an even whiter shade of pale, his eyes widening and flooding with tears. “Wh-What?”

My goddamned heart broke for the man as his shattered in front of me.

A hard swallow allowed me to continue. “She was a few weeks along, and it’d been months since she and I…”

The man barely drew a breath as his eyes unfocused, and tears spilled down his cheeks once more. He hadn’t known, which meant Tara probably hadn’t either.

“I’m sorry for your loss,”

I whispered, my tone as broken as his spirit.

He choked on a sob, and I clasped his shoulder before turning and walking away. I’d hoped speaking to him would lighten the emotions attempting to hold me back from living, but my heart lay heavier with grief.