Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Ryan
Knox
when I was a kid I wanted to be a football coach
Ryan
My pops loved Frank Sinatra. He used to sing New York, New York to me every time I called or came home for a visit.
“ H ere. Let me get the back for you.”
My sister takes the flat iron out of my hand, helping me with my hair.
I watch her in the bathroom mirror and think back to my teen years.
I don’t remember her ever helping me get ready.
With our five-and-a-half-year age gap, she was already at Oregon State before I started high school.
I’ve spent more time with her the last five days than I have, maybe ever.
I’ve helped at the shop, free of charge, of course, and spent time with my niece and nephew and my brother-in-law, Trent, who is currently at the park with the kids. Becks hasn’t said anything about the tension between them, but it’s there, and I’m worried about her.
The two of us packed up Pop’s room at the memory care facility and we put together the photos and? program for today’s memorial.
We may rarely tell each other how we feel, but we’ve always worked well together.
I’ve spent all of my evenings at the cabin, and one night she came over to share a bottle of wine while we caught up on all the life we’d missed out on by living on opposite sides of the country.
It took a loss to bring us together, but I’m glad we’ve had this time with just the two of us.
We’ve done our best to steer clear of our parents, but there was no getting out of family dinner once my aunts and uncle returned to town yesterday.
Luckily, we maintained an appearance of family unity, and my father spared me his hostility.
“All done.”
“Thanks.” Turning to the side to inspect the back of my hair, I slip on my heels, letting out a big breath when our eyes meet in the mirror. “Ready?”
“Not at all, but nothing we can do about it,” Becks states the truth.
We’ve been so busy all week that the quiet morning has made things feel all too real.
Trying to keep the mood as upbeat as possible, I lead her out of the bathroom and through her bedroom, whispering in her ear as we come to a stop in front of her bedroom’s full- length mirror. “You know what else we can’t do anything about? How hot we look.”
She chuckles. “Dad’s gonna be pissed.”
Richard Jameson bled maroon and gold. His love for this town, its high school, and every person who lived here filled his soul with joy.
His family and Goose Hollow were all he needed.
He was a simple man who made everyone’s life better.
It seemed only fitting that his granddaughters dressed accordingly.
I’m wearing a mid-length maroon dress with cap sleeves and a skinny gold belt.
Rebecca is wearing a gold sleeveless sheath dress with a maroon pashmina draped over her shoulders.
“I can’t wait to see his face. It will be worth the tongue lashing I get later,” I say, as we inspect ourselves in the mirror.
“He won’t be able to go off in a room full of people,” she assures me. “It’s gonna kill him.”
She only lives two blocks from the church, so we walk arm in arm, our heels keeping time against the pavement, enjoying our last minutes of calm before we have to put on our masks, becoming the perfect daughters.
The chill of the air-conditioned church feels good against my warm skin. It’s already eighty-eight degrees outside and it’s only 1:30. My parents are already here, as are my aunts and uncle.
Our arms still linked, we make our way to the front of the church, tightening our holds on each other when Dad turns and takes us in. He thunders toward us, but Aunt Holly steps out of one of the pews, cutting him off.
“Look at you two! You’re perfect! Dad would absolutely love this.” She wraps us in her arms while Dad deflates, turning on his heel, and thankfully walking the other way. “Come. Look at all the flowers people have sent. Dad was so loved.”
She’s right. There are more flower arrangements than there is room for them.
They’re crammed into every nook and cranny of the church stage.
Many of the arrangements are maroon and gold, just like our attire.
There’s one bigger than the rest and as I examine it my aunt confirms what I already knew.
It’s from the McKinnons. But I know, it’s from Knox.
God, I miss him. Like deep down in my soul. I’ve never missed anyone like this before. It’s an ache in my chest that coincides with an emptiness that feels like I’ve left something important behind.
Pushing my melancholy aside, Becks and I say hello to Mom and our other family members, who all praise our choice of attire.
Eventually, Rebecca and I each take a stack of programs, making our way to the church doors.
As people arrive, we accept condolences and hugs, showing our thanks by handing everyone who enters a program featuring our grandfather’s handsome face.
“Hey, you,” a familiar and welcome voice chimes.
Happy to see Daisy’s face, I pull her into a hug. “Thanks for coming.”
“No thanks needed. I know I’ve already said it, but I’m so sorry. The entire town will be worse off without him in it.”
“That means a lot. He?—”
“Excuse me a moment,” my dad interrupts. With a sharp tug on my elbow, I’m pulled away from the conversation and out of the receiving line to a corner where no one can hear my father’s vitriol as the real him comes crawling out of its hole, to spew the venom he’s had to keep inside .
His grasp remains firm, positioning us so our backs are to those in attendance. “Is the title of family martyr not enough for you? How dare you disrespect the man who loved you, even though he knew you were your mother’s bastard.”
My pulse thunders in my ears, a cold sweat covering my body. Dad isn’t often kind, but he’s never gone this far. Never called me a bastard. I’ve always known that’s how he sees me, but he’s never said it.
“How am I disrespecting him?”
I try to shift my arm out of his hold, to no avail.
“Who wears red to their grandfather’s funeral? A whore, that’s who. You disgust?—”
“Take your hand off her and don’t say another word,” a fierce voice interrupts my father’s hateful words.
No. It can’t be.
Dad stiffens beside me. Using the distraction, I wrench my arm away from him then slowly turn around to find the most earth shatteringly beautiful man I have ever seen. A man with other obligations he should be honoring at this moment. A man who shouldn’t be here, but here he is. For me.
I’ve never been so happy to see another human being in my life.
“You okay?” he asks, keeping his voice hushed to avoid unwanted attention.
“What are you doing here?”
His hair is pulled back and he’s wearing a suit that covers his tattoos. He’s beautiful, but I like him any way he comes.
“Who the hell are—" Dad stops short when he recognizes Knox. His face burns red with anger.
“I’m somebody you don’t want to piss off.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to leave. This is a family event.”
“With all due respect,” Knox slides his fingers through mine, “I’ll be staying as long as your daughter wants me to stay.” He tugs me toward him, but pauses, returning his attention to my dad. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir. But it’s no excuse for your behavior.”
As we walk away from the man whose made it his life’s goal to knock me down until there’s nothing left of my self-esteem, my body shakes.
Knox must feel it because he pulls me aside.
“I’ve got you, Ry.” Placing his back toward the congregation, he blocks me from view before he pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head.
Looking up into his golden eyes, I know without a doubt I have someone on my side.
Someone I can count on.
Someone I can love.
“You have three different TV appearances today. What in the world are you doing here?”
“You lost your favorite person. How could I not be here for mine?”
My heart stutters. He called me his person.
“But Knox?—”
“I’ve been on a million TV shows. I’d give it all up to be by your side today.”
There’s no stopping the onslaught of tears that begin to fall. “Thank you.”
Holding my face in his hands, his thumbs do their best to wipe away the tears, but as soon as he does, more fall. “Shh. I got you, Ry. I got you.”
The warmth of his hands on my skin and the soothing calm of his words works.
After a few deep breaths, I regain control of my emotions.
Mom, Dad, Becks, and the rest of the family file into the first two pews, and it’s time to take my seat.
Not wanting to let go of him, I start toward my family, attempting to pull him along with me, but he doesn’t move.
“Go be with your family. I’ll be in the back with Daisy, mom and the rest of the family. Let the day be about your pops and your family and not any unnecessary attention. I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses my forehead, then disappears into the background.
Luckily, we’ve hidden in the shadows. Nobody notices me until I slide into the front row and take my seat next to my sister.
She doesn’t ask me if I’m okay. She knows Dad was having one of his moments and taking it out on me.
Instead, she grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze, and doesn’t release me until she takes her place on stage to give the eulogy she and I wrote together.
We agreed she would speak for the both of us.
She shares our stories and explains our decision to wear gold and maroon today.
Much to my surprise, she adds, “Sorry, Dad. We probably should have given you a heads-up.” She shoots me a wink and I smile back at her, but I don’t dare look in my father’s direction.
Dad must not have been as quiet as he thought if Knox and Becks heard him.
My face flames, wondering if any of the other mourners heard his vile words.
My hands twist together, wishing Knox was by my side.
Wishing I was holding on to him for dear life, because now mixed with my sorrow is shame.
Shame that all of Goose Hollow now knows our family’s deepest, darkest secret because of a dress.
When my sister is seated next to me again, she takes my hand, giving me the lifeline I need .
“Did you hear him?”
“No. I didn’t need to. He’s nothing if not predictable.”
“Thank you.”
A wave of relief loosens the stiffness in my shoulders.
Hopefully, no one else heard what was said before Knox intervened.
Just in case, I keep my focus in front of me, avoiding eye contact.
The rest of the service goes by quickly.
We asked that people wait and share their stories until the reception later today at the rec center.
Otherwise, we’d be in this church until Sunday.
Knox is waiting in the back with the entire McKinnon clan, like he said he would be and all I want to do is rush to him, but I’m obligated to ride to the cemetery with my family.
He accompanies his family to Pops’ graveside, standing in the blistering sun in his black suit, never wavering, as I sit under a tent with my family.
The burial is usually a small affair, but when a man like Richard Jameson passes, everyone feels as though they’ve lost a family member.
The small-town cemetery is packed with people.
But I only see one person.
Knox.
He’s not close enough to touch but he’s placed himself directly in my line of sight. His eyes never leave mine.
He is my port in the storm.
Beautiful inside and out.
Two months ago, I didn’t know the thoughtful, caring side of this man. He was arrogant and closed off. Rude and dismissive. Hiding the man standing here today.
He shouldn’t be here during one of the busiest and most important times in his life. But he is.
He’ll never know how much it means to me .
We each leave a flower on Pop’s coffin and watch as they lower him into the ground. A few minutes later, we walk across the burnt grass to our cars. I take this opportunity to talk to Knox under the guise of approaching Daisy.
“Hey,” Daisy says when I reach them. “You doing okay?”
“Fine, thanks. I appreciate you being here.”
Looking around, I notice the many sets of eyes on us, including my parents, before quickly returning my attention back to the McKinnon siblings.
“Knox, you shouldn’t be here.”
Not caring that the entire town is watching us, he pulls me into his arms, resting his chin on my head. “Everything, Ry. I meant what I said.”
Sighing, I settle into his embrace. Much too soon, he steps back. “Listen, I’m gonna skip the reception. I don’t want any more attention on us than we’ve already gotten. When you’re ready to leave, text me. I’ll come pick you up.”
“What? Don’t you have to get on a plane back to New York?”
“Nope. I’m staying. I’ve got a little surprise for you.”
“For me?”
He chuckles and flicks my nose with his finger. “Yes, you.”
“Okay, enough.” Daisy pushes us apart. “You two are pure saccharin. I can’t take it. I knew this was happening but seeing it in front of my face like this is a bit much. I’m gonna need some time to adjust, as is the rest of Goose Hollow. Break it up, kids.”