21. Trey
Trey
The atmosphere in the apartment was stifling. We weren’t celebrating a victory against the Order like we had expected. Everything was supposed to improve after we had removed some of their ranks. The hope was that they would get the message and decide that Ivy was off-limits. Secretly, we had hoped that one day, we could end all the suffering that they had caused and release the women still in their clutches. That was the long-term goal.
But as we all sat around saying nothing in particular with bleak expressions, the victory felt empty. Even if we had succeeded, we had still failed. One of my best friends was gone.
I kept expecting him to walk through the door and give me a smirk. Or for him to appear, and I could tease him for being such a hardass. Or maybe I’d see him walk out of the shower and give Niko a kiss on the cheek. For him to wrap his arms around Ivy with a look in his eyes that said everything words couldn’t.
Instead, all we had was emptiness.
My brain couldn’t comprehend the situation. It didn’t want to accept that he was really gone. That I’d never see him do those things again.
Part of me just wanted to think that he was simply on vacation. That he had borrowed a car from Hunter and left a note somewhere we hadn’t found it yet. Maybe he was sitting on a beach somewhere, drinking a cold beer. Or maybe he’d gone on a road trip to see Angel.
It wasn’t the truth, but the brain had a funny way of protecting us. Memories that vanished and nightmares where the situation was distorted from reality.
It was all supposed to be better after we had moved to Strathmore, even temporarily. Dominic was purchasing my program. None of us would ever have to worry about money again. Ivy was out of immediate danger, and so were Katya and Maya.
Better. That wasn’t how it felt as I stared at Ivy’s vacant face or the tear stains on Maya’s face.
I wished I could be angry with the world. I could be furious, go get into a fight, and feel better, or I could yell at everyone that our plan was stupid. How could we ever have thought we could fool an organization as big as the Order? I couldn’t, though. Anger was a useless emotion in this situation. It wouldn’t help anyone, me included.
The elevator opened, and Hunter walked out. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We all need to talk,” he announced. Even though he was Ivy’s brother, the age gap made him more of a father figure—a father figure whose hands were stained with blood, but the point stood. He acted like the adult we all wished we had in our lives. He was a voice of reason even when we didn’t want him to be.
Everyone stared at him, wondering what he would say. “We need to plan his funeral, guys.”
Niko crossed his arms over his chest, and his expression was pained. “How? We don’t have his body.”
Hunter wiped a hand down his face. “Funerals are for the living, not the dead. All of you deserve a sense of closure. You deserve the ability to memorialize his life however you see fit. “
I let out a slow breath as his words sank in. It was true. Funerals weren’t for the dead. Cam couldn’t care less about a ceremony or any of that now.
I’d never thought about what happened to people after they died. For the longest, I had just assumed that once you were dead, you were dead. There was nothing you could do about it. That everything just ceased. Now, I hoped there was something after . That one day, we would be able to see or hear him again.
If we had a funeral, though, would I still be able to ignore the fact that he was gone? I couldn’t pretend he’d gone out for a gallon of milk and a pack of cigarettes one evening and just gotten lost. “Fine,” I muttered. “Let’s plan a funeral.”
It was something I never thought that I’d say. A funeral? That was what people who were older did. Funerals were supposed to be for people who had lived their lives. They were supposed to be for people who were gray with aching knees and lines around their eyes. Not for twenty-somethings who were expecting a baby.
Hunter was right that we needed closure. More specifically, Niko and Ivy did. I doubted that putting a wooden box or a marble placard in the ground would bring that. I didn’t know what would.
But Ivy needed to eat. And she needed to sleep. Pregnancy was hard enough, especially when you didn’t know if your baby could belong to the man who had caged you in a basement. Or if it belonged to one of the men who had used your body simply because it had been loaned to them without permission.
At first glance, Ivy seemed okay—or as okay as one could be in the situation. I knew better, though. She spent her days like a zombie, going through the motions. She moved her food around her plate, trying to make it seem like she had eaten. At night, she locked herself up in Cam’s room, and I could hear her quiet sobs through the walls. She wore his clothes daily, his oversized hoodies engulfing her body. Every once in a while, I could see her lift the sleeve to breathe in the scent he had left behind.
And I was helpless to know that there was nothing I could do to make it better. There was no way to fix her problems and take it all away. Even the dog Cam had rescued knew something was off. She was fixed to Ivy’s side and curled up at the end of the bed every night.
Hunter let out a deep sigh. “I know you don’t want to. It might be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but trust me. You need this.”
Ivy nodded at him absently.
“Go get dressed,” he softly commanded, and we all moved.
We spent the afternoon in a private funeral home, picking out an empty coffin. There were people who took comfort in careful plans for their deceased loved one. I’d watched enough documentaries to know everyone dealt with death differently. It just felt like a waste spending money on a headstone and a wooden box. If Cam had been alive, we could have spent the money on something else. Baby furniture or a minivan for our family. New camera equipment. A down payment for a house in a city no one knew us. Anything but this.
Something that would decay with age. He wouldn’t care that it was oak or pine because it would rot. Even the grave marker felt ridiculous. The words would vanish with time and the weather. They would fade, leaving nothing. Just like him.
I sucked in a deep breath to calm myself and prevent the tears that were forming. And we didn’t even have the pieces of him to bury.
I ran my fingers along the wood grain one last time before turning to Ivy. Giving her a kiss on the temple and a tight smile, I said, “I’ll meet you back at the apartment.”
I turned on my heel and walked out into the January sun, allowing the crisp air to caress my face as I pulled out my phone. As I ordered an Uber, I second guessed my plans. All I knew was that I couldn’t stand in the funeral home for even a second more. If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to walk out.
The supermarket was a welcome distraction as I strode down aisles, throwing random garbage into the cart. Its wheels squeaked when it moved, and it leaned slightly to the right when I pushed it. Those were the things I could deal with as I added more energy drinks, bags of chips, and chocolate cookies than anyone should ever eat.
That and I could deal with taking care of Ivy. That was why I was here.
If she wasn’t eating, maybe I could find something she would want. On the ride, my Uber driver had been silent, and I had looked up things that pregnant women liked. One woman said she wanted to eat only tacos. Another said that her favorite thing had been watermelon. There was no definitive answer, so I settled on buying everything.
The debit card Dominic had given me sat in my pocket as I went to the register. The older woman didn’t bat an eye as I loaded the conveyor belt with pickles and ice cream. She didn’t make small talk either as I slid my card through the reader and punched in my pin.
A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to shake myself from the cloud that was forming over my head. Maybe when I walked in, Ivy would smile and at least try the ice cream. Maybe if I pretended none of it was real, I would make it through another day. Eventually, that was how it would feel. Like none of this had ever happened. I just had to make it that far.