Chapter Seventeen #2
“I’ve spent the last twelve years dwelling on the past. It’s time we start focusing on the future. None of us can change what happened. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
After kissing her cheek once more, I head into my dad’s office.
“Son,” he says, looking up from his computer. “How was your trip?”
“Good.” I sit in the chair across from him. “Nevaeh loved seeing the city, but we had to come back because her brother’s funeral is tomorrow.”
Dad frowns. “Have you thought about what you want to do with that situation?”
“Yeah, I have.” While Nevaeh slept last night, I thought a lot about my options. What will be best for her, for us… and I’ve come to a conclusion. “I want to take them down.”
Dad nods. “You know I have your back. Always.”
“This looks horrible,” Nevaeh says, standing in front of the mirror, staring at the third dress she’s tried on. Her wardrobe is limited because I only grabbed a few things, so she’s freaking out.
“How about this?” my mom asks, stepping into the room and holding up a simple black dress.
Nevaeh eyes it and breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you.” She pulls my mom into a hug before grabbing the dress and disappearing into the bathroom.
“How are you doing?” Mom asks, once we’re alone.
“I’m okay…”
“Ethan, have you been to a funeral since—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off. “But today isn’t about me.” It’s because of me…
“I get that, but it still might be hard.”
Before I can respond, Nevaeh comes out. The dress my mom lent her fits perfectly.
It starts off formfitting up top, then flares out slightly, hitting the tops of her knees.
It’s cut low enough, her cleavage peeks out, and the straps are thin enough, her tattoo is perfectly on display.
She’s wearing a pair of black heels and her creamy legs look sexy as fuck.
“You look beautiful,” my mom says. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If you need anything…”
“Thank you.” Nevaeh forces a smile. “I think I just need to get through the day. I’m hoping it will give me some closure. Help me move forward.”
I want to tell her it won’t—that the thing about losing a loved one is, you never fully get over it.
In time you’ll learn to live with it, force it from your thoughts, but you’ll never completely move past it—but I don’t want to bring her down.
So instead, I slide my arms around her waist and kiss her glossy lips, careful not to smear them.
“Whatever you need today, just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you, Ethan.” She pecks my lips. “I think I’m ready to go.”
She gives my mom a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for the dress.”
After grabbing her sweater, we head out.
Because the funeral is a public affair, and I’m worried Logan or Felix might be dumb and try something, I have not only Rosco, but also Kenny, my doorman and muscle at the club, with us.
If Nevaeh notices, she doesn’t comment—probably too lost in her own grief.
We arrive at the church and she takes a deep breath. “I should warn you… My mom…”
“Hey.” I turn her face to look at me. “Today is about burying your brother. Just focus on that. You don’t need to worry about me. Let me worry about you. Okay? I’m a big boy and can handle whatever is thrown my way.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. I walk around the car and open the door for her. The wind picks up and she shivers, sliding the sweater she brought over her shoulders.
The parking lot is filled, including dozens of cop cars. Hopefully that will work in our favor and Logan and Felix will think twice before trying anything here.
When we get to the steps that lead to the front doors, Nevaeh halts in place. “This is where Logan took me.”
I glance around, confused. “From the church?”
“Yes.” She nods. “I stepped out and he threw a sack over my head and then threw me into the trunk.”
“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath, pulling her into my side. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is,” I tell her honestly. “I told him to find you and bring you to me.”
When her eyes widen in shock and hurt, I add, “I had no intention of hurting you. I didn’t know he was working his own agenda.”
“I know.”
“I promise you no one is ever going to hurt you again,” I vow, as I pull her body against mine. “I’m—”
“Nevaeh,” a high-pitched voice says, cutting me off.
Nevaeh stiffens and turns around. “Mom.”
I raise my eyes to the top of the steps to find a woman, who looks like an older version of Nevaeh, standing there. For some reason, she looks eerily familiar, but there’s no way I would know her…
I assess her for a moment and notice that while they have similar features, they’re clearly different.
They have the same colored eyes, but her mom’s are harder, colder, filled with judgment.
Nevaeh only ever looks at people with kindness and compassion.
They share the same color hair, but her mom’s is tamed straight, while Nevaeh’s is wild.
Her mom’s dress covers almost her entire body, while Nevaeh’s shows off her gorgeous curves.
I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen this woman before, somehow, which is crazy. There’s no way we run in the same circles. I push the thought aside. I’m being ridiculous. She just reminds me of Nevaeh.
“What are you wearing?” her mom accuses, stepping closer. “And who is this?”
Her mom’s only spoken a few words and I already know why Nevaeh is the way she is. Why she is dying to break free and find herself—find what’s real.
Nevaeh shrinks into me, but when I squeeze her hand, reminding her I’m here and have her back, she takes a deep breath, almost as if gathering her strength.
“I’m wearing a dress, and this is Ethan, my…”
“I’m her boyfriend,” I say, finishing her sentence for her.
Her mom’s eyes bug out as she assesses me with renewed purpose. My lips tip into a smirk as I imagine what she’s thinking. I’m dressed in an expensive suit, but I went without a tie, leaving the top two buttons undone. She can see the tattoos peeking out.
“This is not the time or place,” her mother says, her back straightening and her tone turning icy.
“You’re right,” Nevaeh says, squeezing my hand. “Today is Stephen’s funeral. I’ll formally introduce you to him another day.”
She walks up the steps, and I follow, past her mother and into the church. When we enter, the place is filled with people. It’s warm from all the bodies, and I consider shrugging out of my jacket before I sweat to death.
Nevaeh must have the same idea, because she releases my hand and removes her sweater, draping it over her arm.
“Nevaeh,” a woman says, then sprints toward her. When she reaches us, she pulls Nevaeh into a hug. “Thank God you’re okay. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“You spoke to me yesterday,” Nevaeh says as she steps back.
“I know, but it’s not the same. You’ve never just up and left.”
“I’m sorry,” Nevaeh says softly. I can tell she wants to give her more, but she can’t. It would mean explaining the truth about her brother.
“And who’s this?” the woman asks, raking her gaze down me.
“This is Ethan.” Nevaeh smiles sweetly. “My boyfriend. Ethan, this is my best friend, Blaire.”
Blaire’s eyes go wide and she chokes out a cough. “I knew someone was with you,” she scolds her friend. “You’ve never once mentioned him.” Her eyes squint in confusion, then turn to hurt.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Nevaeh says. “I promise I’ll explain everything soon. I just—”
“Oh. My. God. Is that…” Her friend grabs Nevaeh’s shoulder and pulls the strap down a little so she can see the entire tattoo. “This is so hot! I can’t believe you got a tattoo without me!”
“Blaire,” Nevaeh hisses. “Not now.” She pulls her strap back up and quickly puts her sweater back on.
Blaire grins wide. “Fine, but soon.” She glances over at me and winks, and I chuckle under my breath, glad to have someone on my side.
We walk down the aisle toward the front, and Nevaeh gets stopped by several people along the way—either giving their condolences or asking where she’s been and if she’s okay.
When we reach the front, Nevaeh gives an older gentleman a hug and then introduces him to me as her father.
Unlike her mother, his eyes are soft and sincere.
He’s sad and mourning for the loss of his son.
He doesn’t question Nevaeh, but he does ask if she’s okay.
When she tells him she is, he tells her he loves her.
We sit in the front row—I remind her it’s only for family, but she argues she doesn’t care and I’m not going anywhere.
Her mother joins us, and after glaring our way, sits next to her husband.
The service is a typical Catholic service, and when it ends, everyone moves outside for the burial.
I hold Nevaeh the entire time, surveying our surroundings to make sure Logan doesn’t show up.
I’ve yet to find out what this Felix guy looks like—my dad is asking around—so I’m on high alert, assessing everyone around us.
“Are you back for good?” Blaire asks when the service is over.
“No, I’m just here for the funeral. Ethan and I are going to stay a little longer at the beach house.”
“What?” Nevaeh’s mom, Susan, screeches. “You’re shacking up with this man? Is this why you quit your job and took off?”
“Actually, Mother…” Nevaeh spits. “I took off because I found out from Stephen some things about you.”
Susan’s spine straightens.
“And unless you want to have this conversation right here in front of everyone, I suggest you stop talking.”
“Nevaeh, what has gotten into you?” Susan fumes.
“You!” Nevaeh hisses. “Your lies.” She steps closer to her mother, but then she stops in her place. Her head drops down slightly and I rush around her, concerned. Her eyes are shut tightly and her face is contorted in pain.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” I pull her into my arms. “Baby…”
“My head,” she chokes out. “I… I have a bad headache.”
“She gets them sometimes,” Blaire explains.
“Can we go, please?” Nevaeh pleads, meeting my eyes with her tear-filled ones.
“Of course.” I wrap my arms around her, and without saying goodbye to anyone, walk us out to my car. I vaguely hear her mother bitching behind us, but my only focus is on Nevaeh and getting her home to rest.
She falls asleep on the way home and doesn’t wake up once—not when I carry her up to her room and lay her in my bed, or when I remove her heels and pull the blanket up to cover her.
While she sleeps, I begin my search on Felix, putting feelers out to all of the major players, requesting meetings with my contacts.
Someone has to know who he is and where he can be found.
I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to find this asshole and shut him down—permanently.
As much as I love Nevaeh being holed up in this house with me, I would prefer her to be with me of her own free will, and not because her staying alive depends on it.