Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Leon
Cleo wanted several things for her body after death, and all of them were non-negotiable.
Upon her passing, her brain was to be donated immediately to a Huntington’s Disease research center.
Something we had to set up months ago, and that seemed to be easily made hands off.
I didn’t have to do anything myself; only let the mortuary people take her away, and the research doctors did their part from there.
Once her brain was removed from her body, she wanted to be cremated.
There was no second thought given to being buried instead, and the reason became obvious the longer we discussed what would happen to her remains.
Cleo talked about being turned into ashes as if the cremation process would somehow right a wrong.
As if she was infectious and she would pollute the earth if we put her in the ground as she was.
Her ashes, on the other hand, we were allowed to bury.
She picked out her own urn and headstone before insisting on being put in our yard near the big willow tree in the back.
She wanted a quiet place nearby where the boys could visit her easily if they wanted to.
If we ever move houses, though, I’m meant to keep her buried where she is.
Apparently, digging up the dead is bad luck.
It wasn’t my place to judge any of her wishes, or overthink them. It was my place to make sure that they were granted. And I did just that.
We buried her urn in the ground that was littered with tree roots and tough soil almost twenty minutes ago. Her heavy headstone rests right above the freshly filled-in hole, the white marble engraved with only her name, and the words loving mother.
Cleo had no wishes for those attending her funeral, or rather, burial—only that her parents not be invited.
She didn’t want any of her side of the family in attendance, actually.
She claimed she hadn’t spoken to any of them in years, and that she didn’t care to have unwelcome guests pretending to mourn her.
My whole family came, as well as a few close friends of the family and my higher ranking soldiers.
Cleo was the wife of their Underboss, and whether or not she was warm and welcoming to them, she was the mother of their future Underboss, and that was enough to earn their respect.
Everyone attended in black, and no one allowed even a moment of disrespect toward the woman we lost.
We were gathered here not just for her, but for my sons.
To rally around them and show them that they’re not alone in their grief.
Bastian and Leo did very well during the burial prayers and ceremony, sticking to me like glue and remaining quiet when necessary.
The two brave boys only left my side minutes ago to go back to the house with their grandfather to eat lunch and get out of the chilly weather.
“Do you want me to tell her to fuck off?”
The sound of Rayna’s question reminds me that I’m not the only person still outside.
She chose to stay out here with me, silent as she may be.
I’ve been staring at my wife’s grave for far too long, thinking about everything and nothing all at once.
I should have told her to go inside and warm up forever ago.
Looking over my shoulder to see what she’s talking about, I bite back a grimace at the sight of blonde hair and dark designer sunglasses.
Turning back to my sister-in-law, I shake my head.
“It’s fine, I can handle her. She was going to find me alone at some point to say her piece anyway.
Will you go check on the boys for me? I’m sure they miss you already. ”
Her lips twitch into a small smile and she nods reluctantly. “I’ll go check on them. Tell me later if she crosses a line. Ana and I will handle her.”
Trying not to chuckle, I comment, “My feral sisters coming to my rescue.”
“Mhmm,” she hums. “And don’t you forget it.”
Rayna leaves me and I watch as she passes Melani wordlessly. The two of them don’t even spare a glance for one another, but at least they don’t start yelling.
I don’t usually avoid my brother’s wife the way Rayna does, but I also know she isn’t looking for me to exchange pleasantries.
She’s pissed, but there’s no use in hiding from her now.
She’s found me alone, away from prying eyes and ears.
So unless I want to be a total, cowardly dick, I can’t just ignore her and walk away.
I’ll let her say whatever she needs to say so we can be done with it.
Lifting her glasses up and settling them on the top of her head, Melani stops a few feet in front of me. The wind is tossing her beige blonde hair around her back even as she becomes still. Still and staring at me.
“You could have told me.” Her voice is cold, and her eyes are obviously puffy and red-rimmed from crying. “You should have told me.”
My eyebrows raise slowly in disbelief. What a way to start a conversation. “I should have ignored my wife’s wishes and told you her private medical information?”
“My wife,” she echoes with a scoff. “You didn’t even like her and now you’re acting like her big protector. She should have had a friend with her, a real friend.”
“Cleo didn’t like me,” I remind her with a forced smile. “Don’t try to twist the reality of things just because she’s gone now.”
“Just because,” Melani repeats, her lips twisting like the words taste foul. “Cleo is dead, Leon. There’s nothing just about that. She was my friend and she was dying and you didn’t have the decency to tell me so that I could be there for her.”
“She didn’t want you to be there for her,” I counter, voice dropping as I do.
“She didn’t want anyone to know. You two weren’t exactly confidants, Melani.
Your friendship was a new development. In the year that you two became closer, you hardly visited each other.
That doesn’t exactly scream besties. If she wanted you to watch her slowly die, she would have invited you to. ”
“You don’t know anything about our friendship,” she hisses, taking a step forward. “You don’t know anything about her. You hated her, and you knew that I didn’t. You should have insisted on telling me.”
“You keep saying I didn’t like her, that I hated her.
How exactly do you think I feel about you?
” My eyes narrow as my patience dwindles.
“You’re my brother’s wife, but we aren’t friends, Melani.
Why would I override Cleo’s wishes for your benefit?
Do you think I like you more than I liked her?
I’m not sure where you’d get that idea, but let me clear it up for you.
If you weren’t technically my family, I wouldn’t care about you at all.
My brother loves you but that doesn’t mean I have to.
And being friends with Cleo doesn’t mean you knew her any better than I did. ”
I don’t think anyone can claim to really have known her.
“You’re pissed off at her for dying without telling you she was sick, you just don’t want to be mad at a dead woman. Pick someone else to take your anger out on and leave me alone before you say something that you can’t take back.”
She freezes for a moment, her eyes going ice cold.
“Fuck you, Leon. You didn’t know her, and you don’t know me.
Call us if you need help with Bastian and Leo.
Emilio and I will babysit if they need to get out of the house.
” She starts to spin around and storm off when my reply stops her in her tracks.
“Rayna and Apollo will be here. I have all the help I’ll need.”
“Rayna,” she says with a stiff tone. “Of course.”
I don’t tell her that I’ll be remarrying soon and have even more help through that arrangement.
The last thing I need is for her to be even more pissed and cause a scene that can’t be ignored.
Her relationships within the family are already rocky since her little sister Sienna came around.
Melani might be able to mend those once strong connections if she told her side of that fucked-up story, but she hasn’t tried to defend herself—at least not yet.
Whatever happened to keep the sisters apart led to Sienna’s abuse being ignored, and it hasn’t been hashed out.
Emilio seems as in love with his wife as ever, which leads me to believe Melani has a good reason for not trying to get her little sister out of their family home since becoming a Moretti.
But who knows? Emilio has been obsessed with her and head over heels since they got matched.
It would take a lot of straight up evil behavior for him to think less of her.
I wonder if Cleo knew, or if they both kept secrets from each other.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.
“Go home, Melani,” I tell her, my voice going softer than before. “Nothing we say or do will bring her back. Being mad at me won’t change anything.”
A single tear rolls down her pale cheek and her throat bobs. Without a word, she leaves me, heading back toward the house.
Looking back at the willow tree, I pull a silver flask out of my jacket pocket and unscrew the lid.
Taking a few long pulls of whiskey, I sigh before letting out a groan.
My eyes snag on a shadow of black behind the thick truck of wood and I stiffen before I realize what, or rather who, the shadow belongs to.
“You were a lot nicer to her than I would have been,” my little brother drawls, emerging from behind the tree like a lurking ghost.
I hadn’t realized that rather than going inside, Nico made himself at home on the other end of my wife’s memorial tree. If anyone was going to stay still and quiet enough to be undetected for so long though, it would be him.
“I see we both had the same idea,” he tacks on, nodding to the flask in my hand. My eyes catch on the one he holds too, the container notably bigger. Nico doesn’t do social events, not sober anyway.
“Spying or simply avoiding the family?” I ask dryly, taking another drink.
Nico shrugs, coming closer. “A bit of both, I suppose. I was surprised that Rayna stayed out here with you, and not Cassio.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “She worries and he knows I’m fine.”
He tilts his head, assessing. “Are you?”
Lifting a brow, I assess him in return. “Shouldn’t you be inside guarding your little ballerina? I hear you’re very protective of the girl.”
Nico doesn’t allow himself to show that he’s affected by my comment, and maybe he really isn’t.
He’s been unusually invested in the well-being of Anya Morozova since Matteo started dating the girl, maybe even before then—from what I’ve heard.
If he wasn’t entirely uninterested in the female sex, I’d imagine it was because he was in love with her.
Either way, I think it’s good for him to have a friend who he doesn’t simply tolerate.
He cares for her, and she’s going to be family soon.
Matteo, my youngest brother, the goofball that he is, put on his big boy pants and proposed to the girl. He joined the fucking Bratva for her, and if that’s not love, I’m not sure what is. I’d envy him, if I had the energy to do so.
“Anya needs to know that she can do this by herself,” Nico replies with a dull tone.
“Matteo wasn’t going to bring her, but she wanted to try.
This is her first time meeting the whole family, and it’s a sad occasion at that.
She’s stronger than she thinks she is, and she’ll be prouder knowing that she handled today without me hovering around to make her feel safer. ”
“She seems nice,” I mention, not sure what else to say. “She brought the boys teddy bears and chocolates. It seemed like it was easier for her to talk to the children than the adults.”
Nico grunts. “Yes, well, children have never hurt her.”
“Understandable,” I agree with a dip of my head. “Are they staying the night before heading back west?”
My brother nods. “They’re going to come back to the house with us and leave tomorrow afternoon.
She feels more comfortable here than she expected so far, but I think it helps that she talks to her brothers now, and that she’s already met Jade and Dad.
She doesn’t feel as odd-man-out as she expected, I assume.
She’s probably glad that no one is making this day about her either.
She was worried about taking attention away from the funeral since she’s never met half of us. ”
“Cleo would probably appreciate some of the attention being taken away from her,” I muse with a rough chuckle.
“She hated being stared at, being talked about, and being at the center of things. That’s what I would have told Melani if I wasn’t being too nice, as you put it.
If she knew Cleo at all, she’d know that the last thing her friend would have wanted was another pair of eyes watching her die. ”
“I would have said worse.” Nico takes a long drink of his flask, seemingly finishing the last bit of alcohol. “We should go inside before everyone starts to think you’re depressed or something.”
Depressed…not even close.
Lost, confused, disgruntled, and numb, maybe.
I’d feel less guilty if I were depressed. It would be a natural, normal reaction to losing a wife. Meanwhile, I can’t even muster up a few tears to shed for her.
“Yeah, all right.”
Nico claps me on the back awkwardly, and leads the way back toward the house.
“Let me know if you want to kill someone, that always makes me feel better.”
My first instinct is to laugh, but then I remember.
“Actually…”