Chapter Fifteen
Ash
One week later.
As we walked to the grave site, my phone began to ring. Angel slowed with me, Margo and Carrie doing the same. “Forgive me,” I murmured, pulling out my phone to silence it. The name on the screen stopped me, my spine straightening as my shoulder tightened.
“Who is it?” Angel asked.
I lifted my head, finding the three of them staring at me. My eyes went back to Angel’s golden ones. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I have to take this.”
“That’s okay,” Margo said, grabbing Angel’s hand. “We can walk her over there.”
I glanced at Carrie. “We won’t leave her side,” she promised.
“You okay with that?” I asked Angel.
She nodded, and as the three of them gave me their backs, I put the phone to my ear. “Calling my personal number is a bold move, don’t you think?”
Tucker laughed softly. “Yes, well, I needed to get in touch with you.”
“There are other ways to do that,” I replied calmly, giving some of the locals a smile. I put my hand in my pocket and walked farther into the graveyard, my eyes scanning the area. “Where are you?”
“Nowhere near your cozy little town, I assure you, brother.”
I ground my teeth at the word. We hadn’t been brothers in a long time. “Whatever you have to say, say it.”
“This a secure line?”
My nostrils flared. “You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t Tuck. Now, cut the shit and tell me what’s up.”
I felt eyes on me and looked over my shoulder, finding Hayes.
“The, uh, mess you left behind has been found.”
Righting my neck, I looked out over the hills to the sea. “Yes, I figured. It’s been a month.”
“The resort manager found him. Dead bodies don’t pay bills.
Benson had been hiding out at that resort for over a year and had never let the staff come in to clean. He’d paid extra for his privacy. “Who’s on scene?”
“Internationals,” Tuck answered. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up in case there’s blowback.”
“If your team keeps their fucking mouths shut, there won’t be.”
He chuckled. “You have my word.”
Behind me, the choir started singing “Saving Grace.” “Is that all you have for me?” I quipped.
“Affirmative.”
I pulled the phone away and shut it off. I would need Jake to scrub it later.
“What do you need from me, Starlight?” I asked, coming to stand behind her.
“Is everything okay?” Angel twisted her neck to look up at me as the small crowd around us began to gather.
“Yes. I’m sorry. That was a Red Snake client,” I lied, hating the way it tasted on my tongue. “What do you need?”
“A moment of peace,” she answered, her voice shaking as emotion clogged her throat.
My fingers flexed at her waist, pressing into the soft fabric of her funeral dress.
“You’ll have it,” I vowed, kissing her temple.
I dropped my hand, ready to step back and give her a few minutes with her coworkers.
Her hand snapped back, wrapping around my wrist. “Please don’t leave me,” she rasped as the crew from Margie’s Place began to trickle in.
My arm hooked around her front, and she fell back against me, making me feel alive.
I watched as some of the tension in her shoulders left and then plastered on a fake smile for her friends.
Across Felix’s fresh grave, my family stood, their faces grim.
Margo, Carrie, Sarah and the kids, and Rossy were all in the second row.
My team, all dressed in black suits, watched everyone.
Grayson was watching Carrie and Margo murmur to each other, his hands on her shoulders.
Hayes was standing behind Margo’s chair, but his hands were in his pockets, eyes on Humbly.
The sheriff was standing at the foot of the grave with the preacher, a few of his deputies behind them.
Dominic had been studying each of Angel’s coworkers since the moment he found his place behind Sarah’s chair.
Sarah’s son squeezed between the chairs to stand between Dominic and Hayes.
He looked up at Dominic, and when my friend finally looked down at the boy, the coldness melted from his features.
He ruffled his hair and nudged his chin.
Jake’s eyes lingered on a man named Jonathan Grass, who’d flown into town a day after Felix’s death was announced in the papers.
He’d gone to the town hall meeting Humbly hosted and paled when the sheriff announced that the chef had been murdered.
He was Humbly’s number one suspect, though I didn’t agree.
Jonathan was innocent and grieving the college roommate he’d flown into town to surprise.
Alex had a theory that Joann’s murder was linked to Felix’s, but until Humbly put two and two together, we couldn’t voice it.
If we did, Alex’s friend would surely lose their job at the station.
Jonathan looked up, his eyes finding mine, and I gave him a tight smile, feeling sorry for the bastard.
He looked miserable. His suit was ill-fitting, probably rented, and his hair wasn’t combed.
Paired with the bags under his eyes, he looked like hell.
My eyes dropped down the casket, knowing Felix’s body was still at the morgue.
To everyone’s surprise, Margie wanted a funeral, and she didn’t want to wait.
The people of Astoria had come together, donating money for a burial plot, funeral expenses, and a headstone.
Though Chef Kolby had only been cooking at Margie’s Place for a handful of years, he’d made a lasting impression on this town.
That was the part that tore up Angel the most: he would never know how much he was actually loved in this town.
An empty casket would be buried today, and when we found the person behind his death, it would be dug up, and he would be put to rest. It was excessive, yes, but it gave his coworkers and the town some sense of closure.
Margie said she needed a place to visit him when she came to visit her husband every morning.
She didn’t want to wait. Especially after Sheriff Humbly disclosed that this investigation could take months.
At first, Angel was against it because it would open up the wound of grief when they really put him in the ground.
Then, after a few days of sitting in the empty dining room of the restaurant with Marg, the kitchen staff, along with Joey, Rachel, and Margo, she finally came around.
On Sunday night, when I drove her home, she stared up at her house, exhausted and drowning in agony.
Then she confessed that she felt guilty.
“Why?” I asked, staring at her profile.
I watched her swallow, her lips pinching together as she tried to find the words.
“Because he’s gone. He’s gone, and everyone is sad.
I’m sad too,” she explained, dropping her head.
She pulled my hand off her thigh, turning it over and lacing her fingers with mine.
I tried to ignore how perfectly we fit and my Nonna’s words from long ago. Now wasn’t the time.
“You have nothing to feel guilty for,” I whispered, my thumb stroking her hand.
Her honey golden eyes flicked over to me, her lips parting. “I feel guilty for being happy.”
My brows came together, and I leaned over, cupping her face. When she didn’t give me anything else, I said, “Baby, I can’t read your mind. You’re going to have to give me more than that.”
“I’m happy because of you.”
Christ.
She blew out an unsteady breath and wrapped her hand around my wrist, leaning into me.
Her eyes closed as she murmured, “You make me happy, Ash. Your presence, your warmth, your patience…all of it. I feel like I’m living a double life.
I’m supposed to be grieving my friend, but every morning, I wake up excited for you to knock on my door. ”
My jaw tightened and I pushed my hand to the back of her head, my fingers weaving through her silky hair.
“You’re allowed to feel different things at the same time.
You can be sad. You can be happy. You can be both.
Melancholy doesn’t replace anything, it just moves in and finds a spot on the shelf, Starlight. Trust me, I know.”
She bit the inside of her bottom lip. “So I’m not a horrible person?” she asked, touching my chest.
“No. Not in this life or any other.”
“Thanks to everyone who came out this afternoon to celebrate the life of Felix Kolby,” the preacher said from behind the podium. “They’re going to lower the casket into the ground. If you would like to pay your respects, now is the time.”
Angel shifted, turning to face the table piled with white roses. I brought my mouth to the shell of her ear. “Did you want to give him a rose?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, the breeze loosening her hair at the top of her clip, and shook her head. “He hated roses.”
“He did?”
The only answer I got was a single nod. We both fell into silence, her leaning against me, me supporting her like I’d been dreaming of for so long, and watching people drop flowers onto the empty casket one by one.
It took a bit. Half the town had shown up, after all.
My eyes lifted, meeting Hayes’ green ones.
He gave me a small nod, and I returned it.
Then his gaze landed on Angel. I tensed, remaining that way as he watched her for some time.
When the roses were almost gone, he broke his stare and leaned down, whispering something to Margo.
She twisted her neck to look up at him and brought her hand to the back of his head, her eyes gleaming as she smiled.
He gave her a small kiss, straightened, and muttered something to Gray before heading to the table.
He picked up the second to last rose and stood at the edge of the grave with a hand in his pocket.