Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
Sage
When they lower Nicholas Prince's body into the ground, they take my heart along with it.
Anton and Freddie carry the head of his casket.
I watch him go into the ground. But all I can think about is that his perfectly selected coffin looks too small to hold him.
It doesn't reflect the size of the life he lived.
I close my eyes and a tear drips down my cheek.
The day is overcast, and silent as we sit in the open air around the cemetery, listening to everyone pay respects to Nic. I barely hear a word of it. It's only by some miracle that Freddie managed to get me out of the house for this.
Only because he convinced me I'd never forgive myself if I missed Nic's funeral.
My father’s men, our brothers, gather in mourning. Suits in sunglasses haunt the edges of the service. The devastated look in their eyes is the only thing that stops me from demanding they leave.
I wear my sunglasses the whole time, though the day doesn't require them.
When Anton gets up to speak about Nic's life, my heart cracks.
Did we know him all that well? Are we honoring him properly?
We only have the last six years of his life.
I don't know Nicholas Baker. We only have Nicholas Prince.
So I bury him in the name Nicholas Prince.
He will always be my prince. And I will always be the mafia princess.
"Sage?"
I look up to find Anton standing over me. Suddenly aware that the funeral is long over, I see the grounds are cleared and where there was once a coffin, there's now a fresh line of dirt.
"The service is over. Are you ready to go?"
I shake my head.
Anton nods and returns to his seat next to me, caging me between him and Freddie.
I stay until it's cold. Until the sun turns orange and disappears from the skyline. My thoughts drift endlessly through all the things I could've said differently. All the things I could've done differently. Everything that seemed big before now feels tiny in comparison.
"Anton?" My voice sounds listless and distant even to me.
"Yeah, anima mia?"
"You must know what this feels like." I turn my tired eyes on his and he cringes, sympathy coating his features.
He just nods. Anton was married once. A really long time ago.
The day that Chet turned on us and tried to take me, it was only Aunt Emma and I in the house.
I never knew my mother, but if I had one, I would've wanted it to be her.
She died when she was only twenty-five. Chet killed her. She was trying to stop him from taking me.
"You've never moved on." I state. It's a fact.
"No," he agrees, whispering.
"I won't either," I say, shooting upright in anger. I don't know why I'm upset with them, him and Freddie, but I am. I sit down in the fresh dirt above Nic's grave, wishing I could bury myself underneath it with him.
I can't even get out of bed.
For the next several weeks, I sink into myself. Our love was so young before it got cut.
Yet on some level, I know this is my fault.
I started this. I drew up the marriage contract.
I forced myself towards Victor Rushkoff.
I was always going to kill him. Whoever was after me, whatever they wanted, I wanted them dead for it.
So I could prove to my family I could hold my own.
So they'd let me out of the shelter they created for me and let me stand on my own two feet.
I was always going to secure my freedom and my future this way.
I may have earned my freedom, but my future has been viciously ripped from me.
I now fail to see the point that I was fighting for. Was being locked inside the house, guarded, sheltered, really all that bad when it was Nicholas I was locked inside with?
Now, I'd give anything for it.
Nicholas's goodbye is a hurt that lingers. It lingers deep in my chest.
Several times over the next few weeks I even try to rip it out. I dig into my skin as if I'll find it and be able to relieve myself of it.
Freddie stops me. Anton stops me.
But here is a place I don't want to be anymore.
Because this earth no longer has Nicholas in it.
I make them bring the sheets from his room and put them on my bed so I can sleep in a place that smells like him. The thought that the smell is already beginning to fade sends a coldness to my limbs.
I push my face into my pillow as it grows wet again. There are water stains plaguing it at this point, but I won't let the staff come in and change it. If they so much as try I threaten to gut them. And after the little mafia princess killed the big bad Rushkoff, they believe me.
I hear a knock at my door.
"Go. Away."
"Sage?" It's Anton's tentative voice but I bury myself in the covers.
I feel the bed dip and I pull the covers off my head, shooting him a vile look. He hardens his jaw. "That look may scare off the maids but you're not scaring me, anima mia."
"Get. Out." I flick the covers back over my head.
Anton's tentative voice follows, a lot softer this time. "Do you want to let me brush your hair? You haven't gotten out of bed in weeks. Your hair isn't doing well."
My lips curve up at the corner but I stop them and frown. I love my family, but I hate them all for not being able to save him.
And I hate him for taking a bullet for me. For being the one person who isn't getting a miracle. I felt Nic's heart stop beating, I held his cooling corpse for six hours. I kissed his cheek before they lowered him into the ground.
Nic is dead.
He's gone. He's never coming back. He's never going to be here to hold me. He'll never be able to make anything feel better ever again.
And I'm left here alone.
And fuck, I wish I could join him.
"Sweetie?" Anton is stroking my cheek. "Want me to brush your hair?"
As much as I loathe to admit it, it is pretty gross. My grease has grease.
"Fine," I sigh.
A hopeful face greets me when I pull back the covers, but my scowl sends it away fast. Anton trails me to the vanity where I sit down in front of the mirror.
As Anton takes my brush and starts working through the knots in my long dark hair, just like he used to when I was little, I look at myself in the mirror.
I'm gaunt. Tired. My eyes look cloudy and fogged, my green eyes dull.
Lifeless.
"I don't understand, Anton," I whisper.
His hand stills in my hair, before he picks up the soothing movement again.
"I know, I know it's hard. I wish you didn't have to feel this. If I could take it away, I would in a heartbeat."
"Why couldn't we save him?" I look away from my reflection as tears free onto my skin.
"I don't know. I wish we could've," Anton says.
"I don't know how to live with this," I admit, my scared eyes finding Anton's where I hold up my hands to look at them. "I don't know how to not see his blood on my hands."
He keeps brushing my hair, looking away as he speaks. "It will hurt. It will always hurt. Some days a lot. Some days a little less than that. But one day, you'll pick yourself up. You'll find yourself laughing again. And though the hurt will always linger, you'll find a way to smile for it."
He smiles like he's recalling a similar memory.
"One day, you'll think of Nicholas and you won't see blood on your hands.
Instead, you'll see memories. You'll see the smiles he shared with you that he wouldn't give anyone else.
You'll see him scowling," Anton laughs, "standing guard behind you like he couldn't ever bare for anyone else to touch you.
You'll see him give up everything he knew and ever wanted because a girl in a bad man's home stole his heart.
" Anton's voice cracks then. When I look up, I see him fighting a tear or two of his own.
"One day," Anton smiles. "But not today."