Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
The guys and I hang at the back of the room. It’s packed and so is the hallway outside. Most people I know, or at least recognize. Some I don’t. The sheer volume of people that came should be comforting. It isn’t.
I’ve been in this funeral home before, a bunch of times. Stood in this very spot, sometimes with Carrie, gone through the line, and offered muttered words meant to help, but that I’m sure didn’t. None of those times felt anything like this. She was only twenty-one. It just doesn’t make any sense.
Adam and Mav both insisted on making the trip to Minnesota despite my reassurances they didn’t need to. They flew in this morning, and now that we’re at the visitation, I’m glad they did. They’re providing excellent cover and stopping people from approaching me to offer their sympathy.
As if this situation isn’t awful enough, it’s the first time I’ve been back home since Carrie and I broke up. Everyone is looking at me with these sad, pitying expressions. Clearly, they don’t know that I no longer deserve those glances.
Along the back wall, three tables are pulled together.
Collages with pictures of Carrie from when she was a baby to the present fill the poster boards.
Many with me. Carrie and I started dating in high school.
She was this beautiful, brave girl. She stomped around like nothing scared her, and I was in awe of that.
Everyone was. It takes a special kind of person to walk through the halls of high school already knowing who you are and feeling confident enough to be only that.
That was Carrie. Confident and fascinating.
“Woah! Is that you?” Mav asks, pointing to a picture of Carrie and me at a high school dance.
She’s in a sparkly dress, her hair curled, arm looped through mine.
We were juniors. I was all arms and legs.
Scrawny, bad haircut, clothes that my mom probably picked out and forced me to wear so I’d look nice for the dance.
I wasn’t exactly shy. It was more that I didn’t care about being cool or fitting in.
And I never liked bringing attention to myself outside of hockey.
Not that I really needed to worry. If people were looking my way any other time, it was to stare at Carrie.
That uncomfortable, hide-away feeling never really went away until I got to Valley and gained twenty pounds. I still don’t give a fuck about fitting in, but I found my people regardless.
“Yeah, sure is.” I shove both hands in my front pockets to keep myself from running them through my hair, which is styled with gel for a change.
Maverick covers his mouth with a fist as he laughs. “Oh man, are those pleats?”
“We can’t all be as stylish as you were in high school. I’ve seen the photos of your nipple rings,” Adam says and nudges him playfully with an elbow.
Mav scoffs. “Those were awesome, but you wouldn’t have caught me at a school dance. Well, maybe in the parking lot passing around drinks and waiting for girls to get bored of the dance and come ditch with me.”
“Of course,” I say, a quiet chuckle escapes.
We fall silent again. My gaze keeps being drawn back to the front, where Carrie’s family receives condolences. My own family hasn’t arrived yet, but they’ll be here. The whole town will stop by either tonight for the visitation or tomorrow for the funeral.
I shove my hands even deeper in my pockets.
I’m gonna rip the seams before the night is over.
Guilt seeps from my pores like yesterday’s liquor, leaving my skin clammy.
Carrie was on her way to see me, and I blocked her number so I didn’t even know.
Did she call? Could I have answered and stopped her?
I know that I couldn’t have prevented the accident but maybe I could have stopped her from getting in the car altogether.
Maybe I could have been a goddamn decent human and actually talked to her until she knew it was really over.
Maybe I could have prevented the most awful thing to happen to her.
Or that will ever happen to her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
When my parents arrive, my mom wraps me in a big hug. Her eyes are teary, but she holds it together. My dad shakes my hand. Then the guys’, all while wearing his best somber smile.
“Where’s Ryder?”
“We left him with your aunt Leah,” my mom says, then asks, “Have you been up yet?”
I shake my head.
“Come on. You can’t hide back here forever.”
She knows me well. I go with my parents, shuffling forward with the line. Every step closer, my nerves fray a little more.
There’s a large, framed picture of Carrie on a stand in front of the flowers.
I can’t bring myself to look at it or the casket next to it, but even out of my peripheral, I recognize the photo.
Two years ago, she had headshots taken for her college newspaper, where she wrote a weekly column.
She was so damn proud—her smile had been so big as she told me about it.
She’s not smiling in the picture, though.
She wanted to keep it professional and serious.
I’m glad it’s not a smiley, happy photo.
I don’t know why. Not like it would make a difference.
I manage through tearful hugs from her mom, dad, and grandparents, and I’m thankful that my parents do most of the talking.
And that her mother doesn’t yell and scream at me for breaking her daughter’s heart.
I half expected that sort of reaction from her.
She is so protective of Carrie. Was so protective. Fuck.
Actually it’s her dad I should be worried about. Cam is ex-military and could break me like a twig if he wanted to. Age has only made him stronger and scarier. He doesn’t though. No one seems to blame me. No one but myself.
My family and I step off to the side near the doorway to the hall.
“Your hair is too long. I can barely see your face.” Mom smooths back the long strands hanging in my eyes. Hiding me. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say because I am. And because I’m not allowed to be anything but fine. I broke up with her. Sure, I still care about her. Cared now, I guess. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don’t know what to think, let alone say out loud.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. I don’t feel like I should be here mixing with all the people that were still a part of her life.
People that hadn’t brought pain to her recently or cast her aside.
I’m an imposter. A has been. Maybe only by a couple of months, but I can’t shake the uneasiness or desire to get out of here.
My mom pulls her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “We should get home. I’m making pies and casseroles for tomorrow, and I have a roast in the Crock-Pot. Will you be back for dinner?”
I can’t even think about eating. “The guys and I will probably grab something before we head back.”
“Okay.” She leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Don’t be too late.”
Loosening my tie, I keep my head down as I walk back to my spot next to the guys. Even still, I’m stopped by a guy from high school. Jim or Jimmy, I think. He doesn’t offer up his name as he leans forward and embraces me.
“I’m so sorry, man,” he says. He smacks me on the back as he squeezes.
“Thank you.” When I speak, my voice cracks.
He pulls back and checks my expression. I duck my head and walk away before he can say anything else. Maybe that’s rude, but so is hugging someone without warning.
Mav hands me a bottle of water.
“I’m good.”
He keeps his arm extended until I finally give in and take it from him. I unscrew the cap and take a long drink, then promptly cough because this isn’t fucking water. Vodka burns my throat and heats my chest.
The guys huddle around me as people start to look in our direction.
“Little warning would have been good,” I manage to get out. I glance around. Jim or Jimmy has broken the ice, and more people I went to high school with are looking my way like they might come say hello. I’d rather eat Tide pods. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You’re sure?” Adam asks.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Rhett!” I look up as Carrie’s mom, Cory, calls my name. She waves a hand in the air and holds her head up to see over the crowd.
“Go ahead. I’ll meet you guys outside,” I say to Mav and Adam.
Adam squeezes my shoulder as they leave.
Cory clutches a tissue in her hands. “You’re welcome to stand up front with us. People are asking about you. They want to offer their condolences to you, too.”
“Oh, uh, thank you, but I wouldn’t feel right.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Why not? You’re like family.
” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. Her eyes fill with tears, and I flex my jaw to keep my composure.
“She loved you so much. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.
You’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and be with us at least? We’ll get through this together.”
“Do you think they know we were broken up?” I stare straight ahead at the bottles of liquor lined up behind the bar. My gaze keeps snagging on the coconut-flavored vodka. It was Carrie’s favorite.
“I don’t know,” Adam says. “Was she close with them?”
“Yeah, pretty close. She talked to her mom every other day or so.” Which means she’d definitely talked to her since we broke up.
Mav slides another shot along the bar in front of me. “So, what if she didn’t mention you broke up. What’s the big deal?”
I glance around. “Keep it down.”
“What?”
“It’s not that big of a town, and I’d rather Carrie’s family not hear the news from the local gossip.”
“Are you going to tell them?” Adam asks.
“I don’t know. How do you bring that up?” I shake my head.
“Get through the weekend and then…” His words trail off.
And then what? Grow a new heart and brain? Forget this ever happened?
“Thank you guys for being here.” I toss back the liquor. Logically I know I have to be drunk by now, but I feel nothing.
“Are you kidding? We fly together. Quack, quack, quack.” Mav flaps his arms.
“Uhhh, what?” I’m not drunk enough to understand whatever he’s communicating. Or too drunk, hard to say.
“Mighty Ducks!”
“No.” Adam shakes his head. “Never refer to us as the Mighty Ducks again.”
“Why not?” Mav looks crestfallen. “You can be Charlie.”
“Who does that make you?” I ask.
“Please, I’m a bash brother, of course.”
“Of course,” I say, looking to Adam.
Adam’s phone pings. I’m sure it’s Reagan. I don’t ask, just go back to staring down into my beer.
“Heard from Sienna?” Adam asks, setting his phone on the bar. It pings again, and this time I glance down to see Reagan’s name flash across the screen.
“Yeah, she’s been great.” I wish she were here so badly, but maybe it’s a good thing considering Carrie’s parents might think we were still dating.
“I need to book my flight back tomorrow. What time you think?” Mav asks.
“You guys don’t need to stay. I appreciate it, but there’s nothing to do.”
“There’s an eleven o’clock or a five.”
“Five puts us back at what time?” Adam asks.
They’re checking airlines to find the best option and I’m wondering what the hell I’m even doing here.
“Let’s do the eleven o’clock.” I drain the rest of my glass and seriously consider ordering an entire bottle of Captain Morgan.
The heavy silence and sad eyes Mav gives me is the only reason I don’t.
“Isn’t the funeral at ten? We’ll never make it on time.” Adam finishes his beer. “You want another drink?”
“No, I’m good.” It’s my new favorite phrase. Succinct and total bullshit. “Book it. I’ve done what I came here for.”
I stand and stumble over my own feet.
“Woah, there.” Adam steadies me, Mav goes to the other side, and they hold me up.
“See?” Mav grins. He whispers, “Quack, quack, quack.”