Chapter 46
WILLOW
For the next several days, the guys live up to their promise to keep an eye on me—constantly.
They don’t stalk me quite as heavily as they did after they killed Nikolai, but that’s mainly just because they aren’t trying to hide it at all. And because I guess it doesn’t count as stalking when I want them there.
“We shouldn’t have to be so cautious, should we?” I ask Ransom one day. “I mean, X is dead, right?”
Ransom just shrugs. “Eh. It’s not like it’s a hardship for us to look out for you. We want to be around you all the time anyway, so doing this is no big deal.”
I grin at that, leaning up to kiss him.
Since the guys aren’t even bothering to be sneaky, I’m pretty sure people on campus have seen me with all of them. They’ve taken turns following me to my classes, appearing out of nowhere to escort me to lunch and drive me home at the end of the day.
There are definitely rumors flying—probably spread by April, who doesn’t know the definition of minding her own business. I wouldn’t be surprised if people are saying I’m a whore who’s fucking three guys.
But I find that I don’t really care.
The certainty that I found inside myself the other night is still there. I want these men, and I want to see what happens if I stay with them. What April and her cronies think of me doesn’t matter at all in the face of that.
I’ve developed a newfound confidence in who I am and what I want, and that’s like a forcefield, letting April’s judgmental stares and whispers bounce right off me.
Toward the end of the week, Victor goes with me to pick out a dress for the funeral, since I still haven’t gotten one.
It’s surprisingly fun to wander the aisles with him, watching as he pulls dresses off the racks and eyes them critically before either putting them back or slinging them over his arm.
At one point, he makes a face as he holds up two dresses, and I raise an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“These dresses are the same style, same cut. But two different shades of black,” he complains.
I have to peer closely to see what he means, but then I can make out that he’s right. One of them is an ashier black than the other, even though they look practically identical in every other way.
Vic grimaces at the dresses like the lack of quality control by the clothing company has personally offended him and puts them both back.
It’s just like when he dressed me for the club.
He has a shockingly good eye for what looks good, and everything he’s picked out for me to try on flatters me in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
He doesn’t seem like he would be the type to care about things like fashion, but I guess it does make sense in a way.
His meticulous nature and attention to detail give him a great eye.
After trying on a few of the dresses he picked out, I step out of the fitting room for the fourth time… and when Vic looks up, his entire face goes slack. He freezes, his gaze locked on me as if nothing could tear it away, and a full-body flush makes its way from my toes to my hairline, but I grin.
“I think this is the one,” I tell him.
“It is.” He nods, swallowing hard.
It’s not even a particularly sexy dress—that wouldn’t make any sense for a funeral—but I like that something about the way it fits me got that reaction out of him.
I slip back into the dressing room to change into my street clothes again, and we take the dress up to the register to pay, one more bit of preparation for the funeral taken care of.
The week passes quickly, between classes and handling the last-minute details of the burial arrangements, and before I know it, I look at the calendar and realize that her funeral is tomorrow.
The guys all came over in the evening, their suits for the funeral in garment bags slung over their shoulders as they file into my apartment.
“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Vic tells me, giving me one of those looks that conveys so much more than he probably means for it to.
My bed isn’t really big enough for the four of us, but it is bigger than Ransom’s, so we make it work, the three of them piling in around me after making me come three times—Ransom and Malice spooning me between them and Victor’s fingers lightly tangled in my hair.
I fall asleep much more easily than I expected to, curled up in the warmth of their bodies.
The next day, we take our time getting ready and then pile into Victor’s car. I’m grateful for him driving so I don’t have to, and I’m quiet on the way to the cemetery.
“You doing okay?” Ransom asks. He’s sitting next to me in the back seat, and he leans in, bumping his shoulder against mine.
I try to force a smile before I remember that I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to pretend to be okay if I’m not with these guys.
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “It’s just… strange, I guess. To be burying the only real family I had growing up.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he says. “But on the bright side, Misty wasn’t the only family you have. You’ve got the three of us, and you’ve got your grandma. You’re not alone, pretty girl.”
I rest my hand on his leg, leaning into him. “I know.”
It’s a dreary day, overcast with heavy cloud cover, and that seems fitting. We get to the cemetery and walk to the spot where the casket is set up.
It’s a subdued affair, with some flowers set up, and a picture of Misty on top of her closed casket.
I knew she would never have wanted people staring down at her in death, and it was hard enough finding something appropriate for her to be buried in, in the mess of her closet.
Finding the picture was hard too, since she rarely posed for anything, and most of the shots I could find of her had her looking strung out at parties, her face caked in makeup.
I managed to find something where she looks tired but almost peaceful, smiling off into the distance. I have no idea where it was taken or when, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.
There are very few mourners gathered, which I kind of expected.
It’s not like Misty had a lot of family or friends.
Her own parents died a long time ago, and she didn’t have any siblings.
Our neighbor is there, the one who found her—and she probably came because she was there when Misty died, not because they were particularly close.
There’s a group of women and a few men who trickle in, all keeping to themselves. I recognize them as acquaintances of Misty’s, people she knew from the streets or adjacent work, and they all look strung out and tired.
It’s makes my heart hurt to think that this is all Misty had to show for her life. These are all the people who cared about her.
For the hundredth time, I remind myself that I don’t want this to be me. I don’t want to follow in her footsteps and end up with a life like this. Or a death like this.
I reach down and feel for Ransom’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Reminding myself that he’s right. I do still have a family.
He squeezes back, his palm warm against mine.
Olivia arrives a moment later, and I brighten a little, grateful to see her.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur to the guys, then go over to stand with my grandmother.
She’s dressed in a simple black dress, but it’s clearly expensive, and she puts everyone else here to shame without even trying. Some of Misty’s friends eye her skeptically, as if they think she came to the wrong funeral or something.
“Hello, Willow,” Olivia says when I come over. She pulls me into a gentle hug. “Are you holding up alright?”
I nod when we separate. “As well as I can, I guess.”
“That’s understandable. This is a difficult day, I’m sure. It’s alright if you need some time.”
I nod again, watching as Olivia shoots a sidelong glance at the three brothers who are hovering just a few yards away.
Her mouth tightens just a little, and my heart sinks.
She’s always made allowances for the fact that I kept them—remnants of my old life, in her mind—around even now that things have changed for me.
She’s never asked too many questions about why I hang out with them or told me I should cut them out of my life, but it’s clear that she doesn’t totally approve of them.
And she seems to approve less and less the more obvious it becomes that I’m attached to them, and vice versa.
Does she suspect that there’s something more than friendship between us? And what on earth would she do if that were the case?
I can’t imagine she’d be thrilled to find out that her granddaughter is sleeping with three men, let alone three men who give off the kind of vibes that the Voronin brothers do.
Before Olivia can say anything else, the service starts, and I return to the guys’ sides and stand between Malice and Victor, listening as the priest I hired starts to speak.
He opens with a brief poem, which makes me want to laugh in a kind of hysterical way because I’m pretty sure Misty never read a poem in her life.
From there, he talks about life and death and mourning, but all of it is very general.
It could be about anyone, and nothing he says has anything to do with Misty at all.
“It is the wish of everyone who passes on, that the ones they leave behind can live full, happy lives in their absence,” he intones. “And although we mourn their passing, we must always remember they’ve gone on to something better than we can ever know. A place without suffering, without pain.”
I bite my lip, wishing I could believe that.
It would be nice if Misty was in some better place, or if I thought that she wanted me to live a good life now that she’s gone.
But all I can remember is the last fight we had, her yelling at me and making me feel terrible for what I have now, and me telling her that I was done.
Maybe death is peaceful, but life is messy and complicated, etched out in jagged lines and shades of gray.
I shake those thoughts out of my head as best I can. There’s no use holding on to the past now. No use being upset about what could have been.
“Would anyone like to say a few words?”
The priest looks to me, and I nod, stepping forward.
I stand at the front of the small crowd, looking out at the few people who have gathered. None of Misty’s friends look like they really care one way or another, but Olivia and the guys gaze back at me expectantly.
Olivia smiles and gives an encouraging nod, and I take a deep breath.
“My relationship with my mother wasn’t the best,” I begin.
“It was complicated for as long as I can remember, probably from the day she took me in. I can’t stand here and say that she was the best mother.
I can’t tell you that she made me lunch every morning or made sure I was on time to school—or even that I went.
I can’t say that she made me feel loved and supported all the time…
but I can tell you that she took me in. She gave me a roof over my head when I was a broken, abandoned little kid, when no one else wanted me.
She kept me from growing up on the streets, or in foster care. ”
A tear slips over my lower lid, and I blink it away and clear my throat before I continue.
“We fought sometimes. A lot of times, honestly. Sometimes it felt like I was the one who was the parent. But she was always there. She was a constant in my life. Now that she’s gone, there’s a hole where she was, and I don’t know if that will ever heal.
One thing I can definitely say is that Misty taught me how to survive.
She showed me how to keep pressing forward no matter what, and I will always be grateful for that.
” I swallow hard past the lump in my throat.
“I really hope you are at peace now, Mom.”
I feel awkward as I walk back to my spot, and Malice rests a hand on the small of my back as I rejoin him and the others. The priest steps back up, asking if anyone else has anything they want to say, but no one does.
He nods solemnly, then begins to speak a final prayer, laying my adoptive mother to rest.
I stand there for a while after he finishes, not sure what to do or how I’m supposed to feel.
Just like when I saw her sprawled out on the floor of her house, it feels strange and wrong for this to be happening.
To know that she’s in that casket, cold and still—the woman who barely ever stopped moving in life.
“Bye, Mom,” I whisper, then finally turn away.
People start to drift away now that the service is over. None of the attendees really speak to me, although a couple of them do nod in my direction on their way out.
I go over and thank the priest for his time, and he leaves too.
The funeral director is waiting a respectful distance away, prepared to step in and organize the closing of the grave once we leave. Farther off, I can see other people in the cemetery, paying their respects to lost loved ones.
When it’s just me, the brothers, and Olivia left near my mom’s grave, I head over to thank Olivia one more time for coming. Malice, Ransom, and Victor hang back, giving me space.
“Thank you for coming. It really does mean a lot that you’re here,” I tell my grandmother. “And to know that even though Misty is gone, I still have family left.”
She smiles at me, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Of course. I’m happy to be here. Not happy about the occasion, but… you understand.”
“I do,” I assure her. “And, um….” Nerves fill me as I take a breath to tell her the next part of what I need to say. I don’t want to cause a rift between us, but I have to be honest. “I thought about the offer you made me. About quitting school and helping you run the estate.”
Olivia perks up a little, hope rising in her features. “I’m glad you’ve been considering it. And?”
“It’s such an incredibly generous offer, and I wanted to make sure I gave it the thought it deserves, but…
I don’t think I’m ready for that. I don’t want to quit school, and I don’t want to give up on making a life for myself.
I don’t feel right about being handed everything, to be honest. I want to prove to myself that I can forge a path of my own. ”
Olivia’s smile falters a bit. Disappointment crosses her face, and it makes my chest go tight.
Dammit. Maybe I should’ve waited until another time to tell her.
But it wouldn’t have made a difference. My answer would still be the same.
“I’m really sorry,” I tell her. “I hope you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me. And I still want to be part of your life, part of your family. Just not in that way.”
Small frown lines surround her mouth as her lips turn down at the corners. She goes still, studying me for a long moment. Then she shakes her head and sighs. When she speaks, her voice is cool.
“You really can’t make this easy for me, can you?”