13. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Layne
My heart hammered in my chest as I stood outside the cathedral next to Keaton, scanning the funeral guests streaming out the door and down the stone steps. Their attire reminded me of one of the fashion shows my sister sometimes watched on TV rather than a funeral. Designer dresses and suits, flashy jewelry, and fancy hats—rich people had style. The only thing out of place was the location.
I diverted my gaze to the lush jungle surrounding us, cascading down the mountain all the way to civilization and the deep blue ocean. The sun reflected off Glam City’s skyscrapers in the far distance. As beautiful as the view was from up here, I was too nervous to enjoy it. Hopefully I wouldn’t botch things with Keaton’s parents.
“They’re coming.” He looped an arm around my waist and guided me toward an elegant couple in their sixties coming down the stone stairs. He leaned in, his breath dusting my ear. “Whatever they say, don’t take it personal.”
For once, I was grateful for his touch. It was strong, warm, and comforting—and almost felt like he meant it. That he really cared about me.
Of course he didn’t. It was all just a game to him.
“Regina, Aaron, this is Layne, my wife.”
Trying not to give away my surprise over him calling his parents by their first name, I smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Grady. I’m sorry for your loss.” I extended my hand to Keaton’s mother.
The black dress she wore hugged her trim figure, and a dark brown bob framed her stern face. Antarctica had nothing on the coldness she exuded. The blue eyes Keaton clearly had inherited from her sized me up from head to toe. I tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. It was like she wanted to look all the way into my soul.
Regina pressed her crimson lips together and turned her head away.
Blinking, I looked at Keaton. Had I said or done something wrong?
His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Aaron?”
“Hello, Layne.” Keaton’s father shook my hand. His smile didn’t reach his eyes behind the thick-rimmed glasses, his grip limp at best.
I smiled back nonetheless. “Nice to meet you, Aaron.”
“Keaton, a word.” Regina’s hard tone cut into me.
Keaton’s hold around my waist tightened, then he let me go. Panic rising in my chest, I watched him follow her out of earshot. Whatever his mother had to say, my name certainly would come up.
I turned back to my father-in-law. What was I supposed to talk about with him?
“Hey, Holzchopf .”
I turned around, almost fainting with relief when I spotted Wentworth. “Hey.”
“Sorry, Dad, gotta steal her for a sec.”
Aaron nodded. He looked as grateful as I felt.
“What do you have to steal me for?” I asked, as Wentworth hooked an arm around my shoulders and led me through the people mingling outside the cathedral.
“No idea. You just looked uncomfortable.”
I snickered. “I was. Thank you for doing this.”
“What can I say . . . our parents are a nightmare.”
“They can’t be that bad, can they?” I glanced back at Aaron, seeing him popping the contents of an orange pill bottle in his mouth. Was he sick, too?
“We call Regina the Dragon.”
Turning forward, I bit back a laugh. I could see why. She’d come across as pleasant as one of my flares. Speaking of . . . my energy was fading quickly. I had to rest somewhere.
“Do you mind if we head over to the stairs so I can sit?” I asked Wentworth.
“Sure thing.”
We settled on the stone steps in the shade of the cathedral, the green mountains behind it breathtaking. Thick stone walls obscured the view of the monastery tucked away beyond them.
My gaze automatically sought out Keaton in the sea of black-clad people. He and Regina stood to the side as she talked insistently to him. But his attention wasn’t on her. It was fixed on me.
I broke eye contact, staring at the coastline where jungle met ocean far below. “How’s Tripp doing?” I asked Wentworth.
“Solid, I think.”
“Yeah? Does he talk to you? He never talks to me.”
“Eh . . .” Wentworth rested his elbows on his thighs. “He’s a vault. Almost as much as Moriarty.”
Right. That was probably why the two were so close.
“Kingsley!” Wentworth waved at his brother, who was conversing with an elderly man.
“Is he the youngest?” I asked. “I’m so confused.”
“Yeah. Tatum is the oldest, then Keaton, Kimball, me, Kingsley.”
“Do you have nicknames?”
“We weren’t allowed to have any growing up. Guess it stuck.”
Why didn’t that surprise me? “And Kingsley is a monk?”
“Yup.”
For some reason, that fascinated me. The entire family seemed so far from God if that “banter” inside the cathedral had been any indication. But Kingsley was a monk . He had devoted his whole life to God. That needed a lot of courage and discipline. Why was he so different?
He came striding over to us. Like Wentworth, he had dark brown hair and green eyes rather than the black and blue Keaton and Tatum had. All the brothers shared the same easy smile, though. And all of them were fit. Even Kingsley filled out his habit with his broad shoulders. “Hi, Layne.”
“Hey, Brother Samuel.” That’s how he’d introduced himself to me, and I wanted to respect that.
“Don’t tell me Keaton has already discarded you.” Frowning, he looked over his shoulder.
“No, he’s talking to your mom.” I once again searched my husband’s gaze, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore. His posture was rigid, his expression as dark as the storm clouds brewing on the horizon. What was Regina telling him? Was he mad at me because of the dress? Because I’d said something I shouldn’t?
Kingsley sat next to me, his sea-green eyes taking me in. “I think you’ll be good for Keaton. He needs a woman like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yes, a godly woman.”
I gaped at him. “How—”
“You exude it.” Kingsley smiled. “I could see it from a mile away.”
Huh. That was probably the best compliment I’d ever gotten. Especially from a monk.
One by one, vehicles started pulling out of the gravel lot and driving down the mountain, back to civilization.
“Keaton is a good guy,” Kingsley said. “He’s just caught up in the secular world.”
Wentworth snorted. “I think you meant narcissistic.”
“He’s been through a lot.” Kingsley rubbed a hand over his beard. “He isn’t who he is for no reason.”
I was with him on that one. Keaton most definitely wasn’t a narcissist, and something told me he wasn’t the ruthless businessman and bad boy the media portrayed, either. There was more to him, I could sense it. Pain he masked, maybe. The question was if I could be the light he needed without getting devoured by his darkness.
I hauled in a deep breath of crisp mountain air and sun-kissed stone. “I know this is a big favor to ask, Brother Samuel, but can you pray for us?”
“You bet.” Kingsley’s gaze wandered the thinning crowd. “I’ve been praying for him for the past ten years, and I will continue to lift him up. And you’re in my prayers, too.”
Gratefulness flooded me. I had a hunch that Keaton and I would desperately need those prayers.