3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Thea
T he funeral is beautiful. I was surprised Carrington remembered how much Hazel loved blue hydrangeas. He clearly called Mr. Goldfinch and took care of everything after our very brief, very awkward meeting at the funeral home. Snapping at him wasn’t my intention, but I couldn’t sit there surrounded by pamphlets about caskets and act like everything was fine anymore. Two of the people I had been closest to in this world died in the blink of an eye, and he wanted to make small talk.
Despite their fractured relationship, Hazel and Owen loved Carrington dearly. Hazel often talked about him as a little boy or wondered what he’s been doing over the last few years. All they ever wanted was for him to be happy. For him to succeed. And I think they were just as heartbroken as I was when we didn’t work out.
For years, everyone thought we’d end up together. We’d been so young, and he’d been my best friend for so long, I couldn’t imagine it being more—until it was. By that point, I was convinced we’d get married, have kids, the whole nine yards. Life had other plans though.
The last thing his parents deserved was for their funeral arrangements to not be taken seriously, which is exactly why I’m so surprised by how perfect everything is. Right down to the casket choice—a light, aspen wood Owen would have fawned over, having been a woodworker himself. It reminds me of the bartop at RED. Carrington wouldn’t know, but Owen fought tooth and nail for that exact wood to be the focal point of the bar. He’d always loved it. But I assumed Carrington wouldn’t care enough to actually remember.
They are being laid to rest together, exactly how they would have wanted. I stand there staring at the flowers draped on top of the caskets as they’re lowered into the ground. Everyone else has left already, the funeral having been over for a good while now. It would almost be poetic to end up standing here alone since that’s how I feel with them gone—completely alone. I have Ripley and my mom, but a huge piece of my heart is being buried right before my eyes.
My mom tried to stay until the end of the service, but I saw how much the outing drained her. These days it doesn’t take much. She is always so tired, so run down. It makes my heart hurt just thinking about it. Thankfully, her nurse is a saint and knows her almost as well as I do. Margot caught the haziness in my mom’s eyes before I did, subtly whispering in my ear that she felt like it was time to go. I’d kissed my mom’s cheek and told her I’d be by next week before watching them leave.
Raised voices catch my attention as I finally pull my eyes away from the flowers. My head turns in the direction of the noise to find Brooks and Carrington are still here and having what looks like a heated discussion.
It’s been almost six days since I’ve seen or heard from Brooks. When the deputies came to RED and told us the news, he rushed out, jumped on his motorcycle, and rode off. I’ve been calling him ever since, but he never picked up. Never texted back. Nothing. All I needed to know was that he was safe. Clearly, he wasn’t. He showed up right before the funeral with a black eye and a split lip. No doubt from a bar fight or something of the sort. I wonder if this will leave a mark like the other incidents that left him bloody and bruised.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it looks like Carrington is trying to comfort him. Brooks isn’t having it. I watch as he shoves Carrington’s hand off of his shoulder and tries to storm off. Carrington grabs him by the elbow before he can and leans in to say something low in his ear.
I wipe the tears from under my eyes before giving one more longing look at the caskets before me. “Give ‘em hell up there, you two,” I whisper as I run my hands down the front of my black dress then turn to walk away.
As soon as Carrington and Brooks sense me walking toward them, they both quiet down. Their gazes find mine just as I stop in front of them. The family resemblance is strong: both are tall, around six feet, have dark brown hair, blue eyes, strong, masculine jawlines, and dark brows. Where Cary’s face is approachable and gentle, Brooks constantly has a sharp look about him, as if he’s ready to lash out at any moment. And with the two of them in suits? They look even more alike.
“Whatever this is,” I wave my hand between them, “this isn’t the time or place. Either shut it down, or take it somewhere else.” I don’t wait for a response before I turn on my heel to walk away. I don’t hear either of them following me when I throw over my shoulder, “We have a reception to get to. Please don’t make me explain your absence.”
As if my words released them from their stances, I faintly make out shuffling behind me as I walk to my car.
I’m overwhelmed with memories of Hazel and Owen while I drive on autopilot to RED for the reception. The staff who were up to the task have been there all morning preparing the space for us. Ripley left the funeral as soon as it ended to make sure everything was in order for guests to arrive.
This whole day feels like I’m living someone else’s life. I don’t know if I’m prepared to be around everyone spouting off their favorite memories. Not that it matters, this is happening regardless. All I can do is try to make it through and hope it exhausts me enough so I can finally sleep tonight.
At my request, the entire restaurant is covered in blue hydrangeas and white peonies. You’d think I planned the funeral considering the resemblance, but it was just a happy accident within a tragedy. Another reminder of how in sync Carrington and I can be.
Ripley notices my entrance the second I shut the door behind me, politely excusing himself from the people surrounding him.
“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling me in for a hug I sink into as he brushes his lips against my hair in a sweet kiss. “You doing okay?”
“I’m here.” It’s all I can give him. He knows me well enough to understand. Over the years, we’ve gotten about as close as two people can. We’re able to speak with just shared glances. It’s one of the reasons almost everyone in this town feels the need to tell us how good we are together. They constantly ask us when we’ll be getting married as a not-so-subtle nudge that they want to see us have our happily ever after.
I turn my head in Rip’s arms as the door behind me opens again. Carrington and Brooks walk in looking slightly less tense than when I saw them last. Carrington’s expression is unreadable while Brooks looks like he’s ready for another fight. They’ve always been like this, Carrington hides all of his emotions, and Brooks can’t contain his. They spill out of him like the blood seeping from his split lip.
As they walk past us, Ripley loosens his grip on my back, gently pulling me away from his chest. I follow his line of sight to see he’s watching Carrington walk into the reception. “You ready for this?” His words are soft, and his eyes return to me shining with concern for my well-being.
I let out a small, sarcastic laugh before replying, “Never. But… I don’t have much of a choice.” He nods in understanding as he threads his fingers through mine and pulls me toward the crowd at the bar.
We spend the next hour or so mingling with everyone. They’ve all offered their condolences and shared their favorite stories of Hazel and Owen. Each time I hear a new one, it gets harder and harder to keep fresh tears from falling.
Ripley hasn’t let go of me since we got here. I think he knows if he does, I may disappear. Not just physically but emotionally, mentally. He’s seen me check out before. He knows the warning signs. This is the second time he’s dealing with it after all. Finding out my mom’s diagnosis was getting progressively worse was the first time—some of it is still blurry to this day. He’d been by my side when she’d made the decision to move into Saint Stephen’s. I’d tried to argue, I told her I could handle it, but she’d been adamant about her choice.
Pulling myself back to the present, I realize we’ve ended up on opposite sides of the room from Carrington for almost the entire reception. He’s stayed close to Brooks, but I feel his eyes on me. They’ve been searing into my back like a third degree burn. It’s taken everything in me not to go ask him what his issue is. If we were anywhere else, in any other situation, I wouldn’t hesitate.
As if focusing on it conjured him, I see him and Brooks walking over in my periphery. The couple speaking to us notices as well and excuses themselves.
No one speaks, and the awkward silence carries on for a moment too long before I’m forced to break it. “Ripley, this is Carrington Grant, Hazel and Owen’s other son. Carrington, this is Ripley. I’m not sure if you remember him from school, he was two years behind us.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, it’s robotic and cordial.
Their eyes are locked on each other when Carrington finally says, “I remember.” Nothing more. Two words. I let out a deep breath, attempting to expel the tension.
As if Ripley can’t help himself, he goads Carrington back by saying, “Weird. I don’t.” His tone sounds casual, but I know better. I also know that’s a bald-faced lie, and it makes the corner of my lips tick up, which I hide behind my palm.
“Hey, listen, can I maybe talk to you?” Brooks says after looking back and forth at all three of us and coming to the same conclusion as me: that was the end of the conversation between them.
“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” My words sound casual despite the situation. I’m so used to our conversations being about work or what to get Hazel and Owen for an anniversary or birthday. The poor guy has always been horrid at gift giving.
“Cary and I were discussing RED and how I obviously have to step up now. And I…” He takes a moment to clear his throat, working up the courage to say what he needs to say. “I just wanted to ask if you’d help me? You know, teach me how to run this place and not fuck it up?” The sincerity in his eyes warms my heart, the blue a few shades lighter than his brother’s but just as striking. The last thing I expected was for him to be this responsible, especially after he took off the other day.
I pull my hand from Ripley’s and tug Brooks into a hug, standing on my tip-toes so I can wrap my arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to react, he’s not one to show vulnerability easily. This could quite possibly be the first hug he’s received since we all found out what happened. But the second his arms reach around my back, he leans into me like I’m the lifeline he needs right now. I tilt my face to his ear so he can hear me as I quietly say, “Of course. Yes. I’d love nothing more.”
I can’t stop the tears this time. They fall on their own accord, and I worry I won’t be able to stop them. I kiss Brooks’ cheek, my nose grazing the metal hoop in his own nose, before pulling back and unraveling myself from him. Ripley reaches for my hand again, lacing our fingers together, and pulling me back into his side. It’s at that moment I realize Carrington hasn’t spoken but those two words the entire time they’ve been standing here with us. I ignore the thought and turn my gaze to Brooks’ black eye.
“You should really put some ice on that.”
He scoffs, shaking his head, all traces of vulnerability gone. “Nah, I’m no bitch. I can handle it.”
A laugh surprises me as it bubbles up from my chest, and the look on their faces at my sudden outburst only makes me laugh more. It becomes contagious as Ripley and Brooks join in. Carrington almost lets a smile break loose but nothing more.
I ignore his eyes on me and turn back to Brooks. “God, Owen must have ingrained that in us all. I can’t tell you how many employee complaints I got about him telling someone to ‘suck it up and not be a bitch about it.’”
I watch as the two brothers exchange a look, then Carrington opens his mouth to say, “We heard it a lot growing up too.”
Brooks laughs some more then gives Carrington a playful shove on the arm. “What the fuck ever. More like I heard it a lot growing up. The only time you got told that was when you were sixteen and got grounded after you were caught sneaking back into the house at two in the morning.”
The laughter continues around us, but the action in the room grinds to slow motion for me as I shift my gaze to meet Carrington’s, and my smile fades. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. My cheeks heat as I think back on the night Brooks is referring to. His family thought he was out at some party with his friends, but really, we’d been at my house. Two teens in love, losing our virginities to each other.
My mom was on the overnight shift at work so we’d taken advantage of having the house to ourselves. We’d only been officially dating for a few months at that point, but we’d known each other almost our entire lives. It’s a night I couldn’t erase from my mind if I tried. It’d been awkward and painful, just like everyone’s first time, but it’d also been beautiful and perfect, filled with kisses and quiet I love yous. Unlike most, we truly loved each other despite only being sixteen at the time.
“—right, Thea?” The sound of my name leaving Ripley’s lips jolts me back. I quickly look up at him, not sure how long I’d been staring at Carrington. It felt like an eternity, but it could have been mere seconds.
I have no idea what he said, and I’m too lost in my own thoughts to even ask. “I need to use the restroom,” I say before pulling away from him and walking toward the back office instead. I don’t make it very far before I’m bracing myself on the wall in the hallway, hoping it can help hold me together.
The memory of that night combined with all the emotions of the last few days is just too much. I can’t keep it all in any longer. I can’t let Carrington being here destroy me. Tears streak down my cheeks moments before a voice behind me says, “Thea?”
I don’t turn. I know who it is. His voice haunts my dreams; I could never forget its cadence. Turning around and seeing those deep blue ocean eyes won’t make matters better. They can only make everything worse.
Unfortunately for me and my fragile state, not answering makes him come closer. I can feel his body heat, smell his pine tree scent—he’s so close to me now that everything in me lights up like a struck match. His fingers brush my shoulder, and for a moment, I lean into it. His touch comforts me as my breathing settles. With a deep—but still shaky—breath, I step away from the fantasy of it all. If I give myself any hope where he’s concerned, I won’t survive any of this.
“Thea,” he pleads. Our past echoes in his voice like he was stuck in the memories with me before I pulled us both out, like he’d give anything to go back.
“Just… don’t, Carrington. Not right now. Please.” My voice is haggard. I sound downright broken.
“I just want to… I don’t know… help?” he says in that same pleading tone. I turn to look at him. Worry etches in the lines of his forehead. His eyes dart back and forth, cataloging each tear as it falls. I know he’s itching to reach forward and wipe them away. Or worse, kiss them away.
“You know how you can help? Stop looking at me like that,” I shoot back at him.
He shakes his head in confusion before responding, “Like what?”
“Like this hurts you as much as it hurts me. Just… stop. I don’t even know why you’re still here.” I don’t wait for him to respond before I’m walking past him. Back to the reception. Back into Ripley’s arms. Back into a life Carrington Grant is no longer a part of.