Chapter 3
COLTON
I smoothed my palms down the lapels of my fresh suit as a sea of figures shuffled into the funeral home.
Grief and overstimulation made me numb, the past three days blurring together as one continuous nightmare. I hadn’t shed a tear since Mum’s death—since that life-changing night.
William had given me a wide berth since our altercation, no doubt feeling the serial killer vibes radiating off me every time he drew near. Instead, he busied himself with organising the funeral, while I prepared for my departure to college.
I had deferred my enrolment into college due to my mother’s deteriorating condition.
But without her there, I couldn’t think of a better reason to ditch town as fast as possible.
I refused to consult or inform my dad. Why should I?
He no longer held the privilege to know anything about me.
My eyes had been opened, and I couldn’t forgive, nor forget.
There he stood at the entrance doors, welcoming each melancholy visitor with a gracious handshake as if he weren’t the worst type of fraud—a goddamm cheat.
The seats were filling up fast, and the place lulled into a quiet hum as the funeral director stepped up to the podium to begin introductions.
I sat in the front row, pretending to listen… when I realised William wasn’t next to me.
A certain knowing crept over me as my head pivoted 180 degrees. The movement was in slow motion, as if my heart and head were trying to prevent me from further harm.
Yet, I wasn’t built for fake sentimentality. My two feet were fully secured on the ground, where reality was ugly and unfair.
My father was in the foyer, being cradled in the arms of Nikita, two thick glass doors separating them from the rest of us.
The never-ending resentment that simmered in my veins ignited supernova, blasting through my bloodstream, shoving me out of my seat. The fucking nerve of these two.
I must have teleported because in two seconds flat, I was in front of them, the glass doors swinging shut behind me. My fingers dug into her upper arm so tightly they were sure to leave a mark. I don’t give a fuck.
My neck cranked low so both of them could catch my scathing whisper. “I told you not to come.”
Nikita whimpered before wrenching her arm out of my grip. “You told me not to come to the hospital. Not to the funeral.”
“Common sense, bitch. Buy some.”
Dad shifted half in front of her, the protective stance telling. “Son, please—”
“Please what?” I shot back at him. “Please let your mistress attend the funeral of her best friend she betrayed? Not fucking likely.”
Tears gathered in Nikita’s eyes as she stared up at me, pleading. “I loved her, too, Colton. You can’t do this.”
I cackled, maniacal and unhinged—which I fucking was. “Woman or not. If you step one foot in that room, I’ll knock you the fuck out.”
Nikita flinched, which made my dad hook an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “Does everything have to resort to violence?”
My fists bunched up at my sides, shaking from the battle of holding them back. They wanted to fly, and I was inclined to give in.
I shifted my gaze to Nikita, pinpointing her. “Try me and see what happens.”
Then, something flashed in the depths of her devil eyes—something I would have missed if I wasn’t lasered in on her. It was the look of challenge. As if she wanted to step up to me, the arrogant fool.
Despite her hushed protests, William guided her towards the exit, ensuring he was a physical barrier between us at all times.
As she left, he reluctantly turned towards me, his expression defeated, his energy crushed.
I scoffed. “How dare you invite her here.”
“I didn’t. I told her to stay away, but she’s been… isolated, Colt. Nikita just wanted to grieve with others who loved Bethy too. That’s all.”
“That’s all? By her coming here, she has once again proven the depths of her selfishness and greed. It wasn’t enough that she fucked her best friend’s husband. No. She just had to rub it in one last time before Mum was buried underground for good, right?”
William jolted at my vicious statement. But I couldn’t stop. “Was it not enough that you tarnished my last moments with my mother? Now you want to cuddle up to your whore and excuse her for being here? When are you going to stop tearing apart my fucking soul?”
He was legitimately crying then, eyes tortured as they soaked in every savage accusation.
“I know you’re hurting. We’re all hurting, son. But I want my boy.”
“I want my dad,” I replied, agony coating my voice.
“I’m right here,” he said, tapping the centre of his chest. William took one step forward, then another, his features carved into a distraught mask of desperation. “Where’s my caring, loving boy? Where did he go?”
“You killed him,” I said, raw and honest. “There are so many wounds you inflicted. I’m bleeding the fuck out, Dad. I’m barely surviving as it is. How am I supposed to staunch the outpouring when you keep adding more injuries?”
“I swear, I’d never willingly hurt you, Colt. I love you.”
“Too late.”
Background noise abruptly infiltrated our private bubble when the funeral director slipped through the heavy doors and into the foyer. “I apologise for interrupting. I’ve completed the introductions. We’re just waiting on one of you to start the service.”
William nodded, the foyer lapsing into silence as we were left alone once more.
I pivoted for the entryway, my hand stalling on the handle when he called out from behind.
“Please, let’s do this together. I-I need you.”
“No.”
“Colton… Son, you’re breaking my heart.”
“I would be inclined to believe you, if you actually had one.”
I turned and entered the main area where everyone patiently waited, leaving my father behind in the shadows, where he belonged.