Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tristan’s funeral was lovely. I decided to make the drive down to South Carolina, where Tristan was from.
Despite lingering on the outer fringes of the sparse crowd under one of the trees near the gravesite, I could make out every facet of the service.
It was the closest I could get. Every time I tried to move forward, my legs felt like lead and wouldn’t let me. So, I stayed where I was.
His mother and father sat in the front, next to the casket. His brother sat on the other side of their mother, his arm draped on the back of the metal chair while his father’s arms were wrapped around her shoulder. Her head resting there.
Surprisingly, tears trickled down my cheeks as I watched his family. I hurt for them because I thought about how my parents would react if this was my funeral.
I shouldn’t have been surprised I was the only one from my former team there, but I was.
For some strange reason, I thought the others would still see him as our friend just as I did, regardless of what he did.
The officiant shook hands with Tristan’s family when I locked eyes with his brother.
The anger in his eyes screamed that I needed to get out of there. But I thought better of it.
Why should I be the one running scared? Tristan attacked me. He tried to kill me. Nothing that happened that night was my fault, but for a long time, it had stuck in my head like maybe I had done or said something. But that wasn’t true. It was him.
Steven didn’t have the right to have him killed, but I understood why he would go to the extreme. And I didn’t understand Tristan’s brother’s reaction to me as he came barreling toward me. I dug my heels in.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His face was red, and spittle flung from his mouth. “You come to rub it in?” His fists flexed at his sides.
I held my ground. “I came to pay my respects.”
“For what? You put him in prison. If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have been in prison, and he wouldn’t be dead.”
His words washed over me like cold water. This fucker blamed me for his brother’s jail sentence. He had to be fucking kidding or dumb as hell. I stepped closer to him, fire rushing through my veins.
“Your brother was in prison because he tried to kill me.” Now my fists were clenched because I was close to hitting this fucker in his jaw.
“Brandon!” I shifted my gaze over his shoulder to see a burly man in a Navy dress uniform, then back to the man in front of me.
“Fall out, soldier,” he called, eating the few strides between us.
“I’m not one of your men,” Brandon stated through gritted teeth.
The man’s hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him away from me to stand behind him.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he sneered.
It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.
I hadn’t noticed I was now in a defensive stance.
It was like second nature, not because I was in the Navy, but because I had to always be aware of my surroundings and be ready for anything, since someone was always gunning for Steven.
I relaxed when Tristan’s mother brushed past the man and hugged me.
I stiffened, not sure how to react.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said. She tightened her arms around me, then held me at arm’s length. My vision blurred. I didn’t expect this type of reception.
“I didn’t,” I faltered. “I didn’t know if I should.”
“But you needed closure,” she finished, and I nodded in agreement. The woman pulled me back in, kissing my cheek. “I’m sorry about what our son did to you,” she whispered.
My arms went around the sturdy woman and tightened. When the tears from both of us subsided, Brandon was gone, and her husband gathered his wife into his arms once more. He held her close, nodded at me, giving a grunt of approval, then guided his wife away.
It was a long day. The drive back to my parents’ home went by in a haze. When I arrived, my parents were sitting in the family room watching the evening news. I plopped down on the couch, toed my heels off, and pulled my feet up in the chair.
“Was it that bad?” my father asked after he put the TV on mute.
“Honestly, I couldn’t tell.” I shrugged. “I was filled with so many different emotions I didn’t think I would have at his funeral.”
“What do you mean?” my mother asked.
I blew out a breath. Feelings weren’t things I liked to share. In therapy, I learned there were times you needed to talk things out to have peace.
“Sad for one. I didn’t think I’d feel so sad watching them put the casket in the ground. I thought I would be happy.”
My parents watched me and listened with encouragement and understanding as I told them about his parents crying. When I got to the confrontation with Brandon, my father sat up in his seat.
“It wasn’t until that moment, watching him storm toward me, that I realized I’d been blaming myself for Tristan’s behavior.”
“But that wasn’t your fault,” my father growled. My dad had always been a protector. He wanted to rip Tristan apart for what he did. My mother refused to let him come with us to the trial after that first day because of my dad’s outburst.
“Daddy, I know.” A half-smile formed on my lips. “Perhaps that’s why I’d been having the nightmares.”
“What nightmares?” my mother asked.
I hadn’t told anyone but Steven about my nightmares, because he’d experienced them firsthand.
“I replay the incident over and over in my dreams. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in years.”
My mother gasped. “Why didn’t you tell us, honey?”
“What exactly could you have done? I’m not a little girl anymore. I was in California, you were here. And now I’m in Chicago.”
If the incident with Tristan taught my parents anything, it was they couldn’t protect me from life. Tears fell from my mother’s eyes. I hugged her.
“I’m going to be fine, Mom,” I reassured her. “I feel like I have closure now.”
I let go of her, then grabbed my shoes.
“I’m going upstairs to take a nap.” As I slowly climbed the stairs, I realized I felt revived and brand new and hadn’t felt that way in a long time.