Chapter 17 #2
“I…” The woman didn’t finish as her head lifted toward a glowering Cal and she shuddered.
Solace would shudder too if Cal ever looked at her like that.
“Yes. Of…of course,” she stammered, her voice at half the volume, as she released Haven and took a couple of backward steps.
Cal immediately pulled Haven into his side and whispered something to her.
She nodded, clinging to him, as the woman quickly moved on to Duncan’s mother, Elizabeth Sheppard, and his younger brother, Evan.
Solace shook her head as her gaze followed after her. Some people just needed to?—
Her breath hitched and she held in a sob.
Why didn’t I keep my head down?
If she had, she wouldn’t be staring at the flag-draped, mahogany casket with bronze handles sitting on the raised stage. Flanked by flowers, plants, and special mementoes, the mere sight of it set a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Duncan.
Enclosed within that casket was what remained of the man she loved. Her lips trembled. Remained was the word the funeral home director had used when suggesting the coffin should remain closed, before explaining that there wasn’t much that could be done to present the…
A tremor wracked her body and she swallowed hard, forcing down the bile threatening to rise in the back of her throat.
There might have been an argument about that.
But Cal, Declan, and Garrett had agreed.
They’d been the ones to identify and claim their leader’s body at the morgue after it had arrived in the States.
From the little they’d shared, the crash and subsequent fire that had consumed the cockpit had left little to claim.
As Marine’s, her friends had seen a lot of death. But from the devastation on their faces when the team had met later that day, it was clear they’d been shaken.
“Don’t ask,” Cal had said, his expression hard, when Chance had started to question him.
“You really don’t want to,” Declan had added, his fists clenched and features carved in stone.
“I’ll…” Garrett had shaken his head, his haunted moss green gaze meeting each of theirs, before he’d closed his eyes and hung his head.
“I’ll just say,” he’d murmured, his words thick with emotion.
“If we hadn’t been given evidence in his duffel bag to prove it was the colonel, I wouldn’t have known it was him. ”
Her eyes stung, blurring her view of the casket, and she blinked hard. She couldn’t think about that. If she did, there wouldn’t be much she could do to keep the tears back.
Like I’ve been successful at it so far.
She let out a quiet huff. She’d yet to completely stop crying since Declan had walked into Mercy’s office and given her the devastating news.
But she had to remain dry-eyed. At least for now.
Later, when she was alone, she would have what needed to be her final breakdown.
Haven and her family didn’t need her to add to their grief.
Not right now. They were going through enough.
A flash at the back of the stage drew her reluctant gaze to a montage of photos depicting Duncan’s life played out on an oversized screen.
God, those pictures.
Solace hadn’t been able to watch the random images of a living, vital Duncan flashing in front of the crowd.
She slammed her eyes shut. It hurt too much and she was already having a hard enough time keeping it together.
No one—except Declan and Mercy—would understand if she truly showed her grief.
So, she remained as steadfast as she could.
If she didn’t, it might raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
She loosened her hands and, as inconspicuously as possible, traced one over the little bump sitting low on her belly.
It wasn’t noticeable to anyone else but her.
But that didn’t matter. This tiny life was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Knowing a part of Duncan lived inside her, she was able to take a deep breath.
I need to start thinking ahead.
She opened her eyes and focused on Haven and Cal. Later, when enough time had passed, she would meet with them. Haven deserved to know. As did Duncan’s mother and brother.
A throat clearing to her right drew her attention and she leaned forward to scan the length of the pew.
The team’s familiar faces—along with Hope, Destiny, Mercy, and the Pruitts—projected a united front, where they’d joined together in their support of Haven and Cal.
But underlying each expression of strength, sympathy, and encouragement, lay a profound sadness.
“Something’s up,” Noah muttered, drawing her attention to his frowning face where he sat four spaces away—with Chance, Garrett, and Destiny between them.
He leaned forward and glanced toward his right, then left, encompassing her in his narrowed gaze, before flashing it forward and nodding toward the front of the chapel. “Look at Cal.”
Almost as one, they focused on their friend. Something was wrong. Cal’s already stoic expression had gone so hard, she was afraid his features might crack under the pressure, while his burning, blue gaze narrowed on the back of the chapel.
“What…” Garrett’s low whisper sounded, pulling her focus, as he put space between himself and Destiny, then twisted his body in the pew. His own features hardened almost as much as Cal’s, as he hissed, “Son of a bitch.”
“Spivey,” Declan growled from his place just beyond Garrett, where he too had turned his head over his shoulder.
“Why is he here?” Destiny said, her lips tightening and gaze fixed toward the front, before she scooted forward like she was going to stand. “Haven doesn’t need this.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Garrett growled low, grabbing her hand and holding her in place.
“I’m going to tell him to get the hell out of here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Hope whispered loudly, while leaning forward. Anger filled the other young woman’s fair face.
“I don’t think so,” Garrett said, just as Declan banded an arm around his girlfriend and let out a low, “No.”
Declan and Garrett certainly had their hands full with those two. She could absolutely see Hope and Destiny going after Spivey. They loved their friend that much. And she understood their anger. The man had no right to be here. But for the family’s sake, they had to maintain their calm.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t mind seeing a confrontation play out.
The image of that and the thought of her two friends having the male equivalent of a come-apart over their women confronting Spivey, almost made her smile.
But then she glanced toward Haven’s seething expression and the way she gripped Cal’s hand.
It was too much. And without any conscious thought, she found herself standing.
“Where are you going?” Chance asked, but she didn’t answer as her heated gaze landed on the back of the chapel where Spivey and his wife stood greeting several attendees. What? Did he think of this as some kind of campaign stop or photo op?
Nope, not happening.
It wasn’t a great distance to the group surrounding Spivey, especially since she was walking fast. With every quick step, anger and resentment built inside her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Chance was right behind her.
But the closer she drew to the man, it was a tossup of what she would do. It was a decision she had to make immediately once she pushed her way through the tight circle around him.