A Lick of Sense (Long Licks Rock Stars #2)

Chapter 1

Isabella Monti

Lake View Cemetery

Seattle, Washington

Today broke me.

I don’t know how I’d put one foot in front of the other.

How I’d made it through the horrifying ordeal of having to see my mother’s body lying in the coffin.

She’d wanted a simple graveside funeral.

No viewing, because she didn’t want my last memory of her to be a cold, lifeless one. My mom is a smart woman.

Was.

God, would I ever get used to thinking about her in the past tense?

Prior to the funeral, the director needed someone to confirm that it was my mother in the casket before they sealed it. Going against my friends’ wishes—and my mom’s—I’d shouldered the responsibility.

And now it haunted me.

“How are you holding up, Izzy?”

Alexis put an arm around my shoulders, and I fought the urge to collapse into her.

I knew the second I did, I’d lose it, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

I wanted to be strong. Mom taught me that tears were for behind closed doors.

No matter what happens, hold it together until you find some privacy.

I wanted to do that for her, but every time I closed my eyes I saw her pale, lifeless body in that casket.

I shook my head, and my chest hitched with a broken sigh. “I’m getting by.”

“You are taking too much on your shoulders. Ask for help. My parents and I are here for you.”

“I know. I just—”

“Have to be so damn strong and stubborn. There’s nothing wrong with leaning on us. You’re family, Izzy. Hell, you’re more of a sister to me than Katie, and I had to share a bedroom with that brat for ten years.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was my sister in every way but blood. And I loved her parents almost as much as my mom.

But it wasn’t the same.

Yes, they were lovely people, but they weren’t really family.

I didn’t have a family anymore.

My dad died before I was born, and my mom never remarried or had any other children. Her parents, my grandparents, died when I was in middle school, and my mom never really talked about my dad’s parents.

I was all alone.

Tears burned the back of my eyelids. I came so close to losing it. But I looked at the casket, sitting on the wet grass in the cemetery that would be my mom’s final resting place, and I sucked up my tears. I’d cry later, when I was alone.

I had plenty of alone time ahead of me.

“It was my job,” I whispered back to Alexis. “She is—was—my mom.”

“Is. She’ll always be your mother.”

I don’t know how I didn’t break down at that, but I held it together.

Like the sister she was, Alexis knew what I was feeling and squeezed my shoulder.

“If everyone will please take their seats, we can begin the graveside service.” The stooped, wrinkled funeral director gestured to the folding chairs. “Let’s please leave the first row for the family.”

I hugged Alexis, then pulled away and took a step forward. Alone.

“Don’t even try it. You know I’m sitting up front with you.”

I gave a watery chuckle and let my bestie lead me. Her parents and sister joined us a few moments later. It was awesome to have support. Not the same as having my mom, but I didn’t feel so achingly alone.

The service passed by in a blur. A few people got up to speak—friends of my mom, a few of her coworkers from NOAA, and Alexis read one of my mom’s favorite poems—but mercifully I didn’t have to talk. I don’t think I was capable of saying anything coherent.

I stared at the gleaming mahogany coffin.

She really was gone.

The thankfully short service I’d planned in a blur earlier this week drew to a close as the director invited people to come forward and pay their respects as my mom’s favorite song, the Israel Kamakawiwo’ole ukulele version of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ played.

I took a moment to brace myself. Then I stepped forward and placed my rose on top of her coffin. I stared down at the array of flowers, but all I could see was the pale, lifeless husk that her aneurysm left me.

She was gone.

It felt silly to think it now. I knew she was gone.

I’d been at her bedside a week ago, when she’d breathed her last breath.

I’d watched over her this last month, praying she’d wake up from her coma.

Unable to believe that the waxen body in that hospital bed was my mom.

She hadn’t looked anything like the energetic, take-no-prisoners, awesome mom I’d known.

And now she was gone.

She was never coming back.

My eyes burned with tears that I couldn’t deny any longer. They ran down my cheeks and dripped off my chin.

My breath shuddered in my chest. And it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

She was gone.

Oh God. Why?

Why!

Sobs shook my body until I collapsed.

I sat in the wet grass next to my mother’s grave and sobbed. A lifetime’s worth of tears poured from me.

All the things my mom would miss tormented me. She wouldn’t be there when I got my first post-grad job. My wedding. She would never hold her grandchildren. I wouldn’t have her to lean on ever again.

Oh God. Why?

Why did she have to die?

I cried until I was physically exhausted. Until the fog of my grief lifted enough for me to realize exactly where I was. I should’ve been embarrassed that I’d failed to live up to my mom’s example of strength, but all I felt was grief and bone-deep weariness.

I was pretty sure I could audition as a plus-sized version of Alice Cooper right now. I tried to collect myself. I’d spent the entire day with a clutch of tissues in my hand, but when I really needed them, I couldn’t find any. Where the hell did I leave my purse?

“Here.”

I looked up and found Alexis holding out a packet of tissues. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your flow. You were due.”

I gave a wet chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Taking a minute to sort my tears and smudged makeup, I avoided looking around to see how many people had stuck it out to watch my breakdown.

There was supposed to be a wake. Fortunately, I wasn’t hosting.

Alexis’ family had offered in that way where I couldn’t say no.

Which was a relief to me now. The thought of all those people invading my house and wanting to talk about my mom and what a waste her death was left me feeling even more exhausted.

Yes, I’d have to show up, but at least I’d be able to leave when I’d had enough.

I could retreat to my empty house where it was just me and all the food that kept showing up.

I had enough meals to last me until the Mariners won the World Series.

With another shuddering breath, I clutched the tissue in my hand and peeked around. Aside from Alexis’ family and the director, a handful of people were making their way to the parking lot. Most of the mourners had left already.

Except one tall, muscular, older man standing next to a polished town car.

I had no idea who the guy was, and I didn’t have it in me to give a shit. I just wanted to get back to my house and collapse in my bed so I could cry for a few more hours.

I just had to get through the wake first.

After another weary sigh, I held up a hand to Alexis and let her pull me up.

“Does my butt look as wet as it feels?” I turned and presented my soggy backside to my friend.

“No one cares, Izzy. You look fine.”

“Thanks for lying to me.”

“What are friends for?” A gentle smile curved Alexis’ lips.

I stepped closer to her to give her a hug, but paused when I saw the sadness clouding her eyes.

In all my grief, I never stopped to think about how all this was affecting her.

We’d spent the better part of twenty years living in each other’s houses.

She’d lost a surrogate mother. I closed the distance between us and enveloped her in a rib crushing hug.

And it was her turn to lose it.

“I am…hic…so sorry!” The words were muffled in my shoulder. “I was trying…hic…so hard to be…hic…strong for you!”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, A. That’s what kickass friends are for. Unconditional love. Save the apologies for when you really screw up.”

Alexis gave a wet snort chuckle that probably left a smear of something on my black dress. Not that I gave a shit—there was no way I was ever gonna wear this dress again. It held too many horrible memories.

After a few more minutes and more than a few tears, Alexis pulled away and we tried to get into some kind of passable shape with crumpled tissues and a compact mirror.

I had a feeling it was a lost cause. Not that I cared.

The lead singer of Orange Yeti could’ve shown up, and I doubt I would’ve noticed.

“You have a smear of mascara right there…”

I swiped at my cheek where she indicated although given the look she threw me, I missed the spot. “I don’t care. Let’s just go. We’ll fix me in the car.”

It’d take a lot longer than the car ride to her parents’ house to fix what was broken inside me. More like a lifetime.

Was it even possible to get over the death of your mother?

My feet dragged as we walked toward the parking lot.

Tears brimmed my eyes again and fogged my vision. At least I still had Alexis to lean on. I couldn’t have gotten through this day—or to the parking lot—without her.

“Isabella? Isabella Monti?”

I swiped at my eyes and realized we’d reached the edge of the parking lot where the tall guy and the town car had been sitting. He was the one who’d addressed me.

“I, uh, yes. I’m Isabella.”

I could feel Alexis’ gaze ping pong back and forth between me and the attractive stranger in front of us.

“I, uh, realize this isn’t the best time.

But I think there’s really no good time for this news.

” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, his arm muscles flexing.

It seemed like he was seven feet tall, and he had a passing resemblance to Jason Mamoa—all tanned skinned, long, wild, curly hair and crazy fit arms. “I just found out about you and raced to get here. I’m your father. ”