Bree #4
Watching them stand there, six grown men refusing to let one of their own mourn alone, brought fresh tears to my eyes.
They looked the way they always had—different personalities, different paths, different stories—but in that moment none of it mattered.
Titles didn’t matter. Money didn’t matter.
Businesses didn’t matter. Standing around that gravesite, they were simply brothers trying to help another brother survive the hardest day of his life.
Mrs. Valecrest reached for my hand, squeezing it so tight our fingers almost hurt.
I slipped my arm around her waist, allowing her to lean into me as another wave of emotion washed over us both.
Looking around the cemetery, I realized there wasn’t an officer present whose eyes weren’t glistening.
Some openly wiped away tears while others looked toward the sky, collecting themselves before returning one final salute as Elias casket was slowly lowered into the earth.
It was then I truly understood something Cazmir had said only nights before. Memphis hadn’t lost a police chief. A son had lost his father, a wife lost her husband, and a family had lost the man who had been the foundation between them all.
Back at the house, the repast was filled with something that looked remarkably like life trying to find it's way back into the room.
Tables covered in white linens stretched from one end of the dining room to the other, carrying enough food to feed an army thanks to neighbors, church members, and officers families who had spent the better part of the morning dropping off homemade dishes.
In the corner, a slideshow rotated through photographs of Elias at different stages of his life.
One picture showed a young patrol officer standing proudly beside his first squad car.
The next captured him holding a newborn Cazmir with tears in his eyes.
Then came family vacations, birthdays, anniversaries, fishing trips, academy graduations, and retirement parties for friends who’d insisted Elias would never actually retire because he didn’t know how to stop serving people.
Every photograph seemed to tell another story, and every story reminded us that while a badge had made him respected, it was the husband and father behind it that made him unforgettable.
For the first hour, the room echoed with the strange balance only funerals seemed capable of creating. One moment somebody was crying over a memory they wished they could relive, and the next that same memory had the entire house laughing so hard tears rolled down their faces all over again.
Former officers traded stories about practical jokes Elias played on rookie deputies, judges recalled arguments they’d shared inside courtrooms before grabbing lunch together afterward, and neighbors spoke about the countless times he’d helped families without ever asking for recognition.
Children darted between tables chasing one another without fully understanding why all the grown-ups looked so sad, reminding everyone in the room that even after unimaginable loss, life had an incredible way of continuing forward.
From across the room, I watched Cazmir move about, thanking people for coming, hugging relatives he’d barely seen in years, and listening patiently as one person after another shared what his father had meant to them.
He smiled when it was expected, shook hands when they were offered, and accepted every embrace with the grace his father would’ve been proud of.
But loving someone the way I loved Cazmir meant noticing the things nobody else did.
Every smile stopped the second he turned away.
Every laugh faded before it reached his eyes.
He wasn’t really hearing half the conversations happening around him. He was surviving them.
As the afternoon stretched on, I noticed Majeston excuse himself from the group he’d been standing with before making his way toward Cazmir.
There wasn’t any hesitation in his stride or uncertainty in his expression.
He walked over, waited until Cazmir looked up, and rested one firm hand against the back of his neck the way only an older man who’d earned your respect could.
“Your father was one of the last honorable men I ever met.” That was it, no speech, no dramatic words, just the truth.
Cazmir lowered his head for a moment before looking back up at him. “I know.”
Majeston nodded once.
“He knew exactly who he was.”
The two men stood there for another moment before Majeston pulled him into a brief embrace and walked away without another word.
Watching them, I understood why that exchange mattered so much.
They’d spent years standing on opposite sides of the law, yet somewhere along the way they’d found something far greater than agreement.
They’d found respect. In a world where loyalty had become increasingly difficult to come by, that kind of respect was priceless.
Little by little, the repast began winding down.
Families gathered leftovers, officers exchanged final handshakes before returning to duty, and relatives hugged Mrs. Valecrest one last time before promising to check on her throughout the week.
By early evening the once-crowded house had grown remarkably quiet, leaving behind nothing but the scent of fresh flowers, half-empty serving trays, and the kind of silence that only settles in after everyone else has gone home.
I found Cazmir sitting alone on the back porch just as the sun disappeared beneath the Memphis skyline.
His tie had long since been loosened, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his forearms, and his gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the backyard as though he were searching for answers the horizon refused to give him.
This time I didn’t announce myself. I walked over and lowered myself onto the porch swing beside him, allowing our shoulders to brush before leaning against his side. Before I could utter a word, he lifted one finger to my lips with the smallest shake of his head.
“Shhh.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“None of that even matters.” I looked at him, confused.
He reached over until his fingers found mine, weaving them together so naturally it felt like they’d always belonged there. He stared at our joined hands before turning toward me, his eyes still red from crying but softer than they’d been all week.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The confession settled somewhere deep inside my heart. I smiled through the tears threatening to fall all over again and tightened my grip around his hand.
“You’ll never have to find out.”
He didn’t respond. Just brought my hand to his lips and held it there. In the middle of all the grief surrounding us, that quiet promise felt stronger than anything either of us could’ve said aloud in that moment.
By the time I finally made it back to my apartment that evening, I was emotionally exhausted in a way I’d never experienced before. I kicked my heels off between the front door and the kitchen before changing into one of Cazmir’s old hoodies he’d left at my place months ago.
It still smelled like his cologne, and after the week we’d just survived, I needed every piece of comfort I could find. Curling up on the couch with my legs tucked beneath me, I had just taken my first sip of tea when my phone began vibrating across the coffee table.
Wolfpack ??
Before I could even answer, Lauren had already added everybody to the FaceTime.
Her face popped into the screen first.
“There she go.”
Within seconds Nia joined from what looked like her kitchen, still wearing one of Kade’s old Myles Tech hoodies she’d stolen years ago.
Kayla appeared next, curled up beneath a blanket looking just as emotionally drained as I felt, followed by me until the screen settled into four equal squares.
The only person missing was Ysis. Lauren looked around the screen before speaking first.
“I know y’all wondering why Ice ain’t on here.”
“I figured she was sleep,” Kayla answered.
“Probably is,” Nia nodded. “Them babies been wearing her little tail out.”
“Honestly...I think she needs the rest.”
“No.” Lauren shook her head. “She needs peace.”
She was right. For the first time since everything with Marius had spiraled out of control, the four of us sat there quietly thinking about our best friend.
“I ain’t seen her genuinely smile in weeks,” Kayla admitted softly.
“Me either.” Nia sighed.
“She trying so hard to hold everybody else together she don’t even realize she’s falling apart.” I leaned my head back against the couch.
“We’ve spent so much time trying to survive this war with her,” I said, looking at each of them through the screen, “that I think we forgot she’s about to become somebody’s mama.”
A comfortable silence washed over the call as each of us sat there staring at our screens, processing the same realization at the same time.
Somewhere between planning funerals, dodging bullets, and trying to survive a war none of us had asked to be a part of, we’d all forgotten that our best friend was only weeks away from becoming somebody’s mother.
Nia suddenly snapped her fingers, her entire face lighting up with an idea so bright it instantly shifted the mood.
“I got it.”
Lauren let out an exaggerated sigh the moment Nia’s eyes lit up, already recognizing the look that always appeared right before one of her ideas took over the room.
“Lord...” she muttered, leaning back against her couch with a dramatic eye roll that sent the rest of us into laughter.
“No, seriously, hear me out.” The conviction in her voice immediately quieted us, and one by one we settled down, waiting to see where she was going with it.
“Let’s throw Ysis the baby shower she deserves.”
The mood of the call shifted so fast it almost gave me whiplash. Kayla practically shot upright beneath her blanket while Lauren clapped her hands together loud enough to make all of us jump.