Through heartbroken tears and body-wracking sobs, she told everyone about the man who’d always been there, who’d laughed more than he got angry, who loved with his whole heart, and who’d fixed everything that’d ever broken in her life. She told stories about him that made even the hardest man in the room blink rapidly to stop their tears, and she outlined who he’d been in the best way possible.
After that, I took her back to where she’d been sitting and sat down with her on my lap, holding her in place as the service continued.
When she cried, I wiped those tears away.
When she struggled to breathe, I rubbed her back to calm her down.
When she sobbed hard enough to almost fall off my lap, I held her that bit tighter, hoping it would help her get through this.
Piersville would miss Lawrence, and we wouldn’t be the same without him, so it was hard for everyone to say goodbye to him. But what made it worse was when her dad, my grandpa, my father, Hurst Townsend, and I got up to carry his coffin to his final resting place.
Why?
Because she got up, too, and moved to the front of it, balancing it on her right shoulder and hooking her arm over her dad’s neck. Seeing it, the crying got louder in the church, and I felt the tears fall faster down my face.
It was beautiful, but it was heartbreaking, too.
We were slightly off-balance given the height difference, but we made it work without saying a word and walked the coffin carefully out of the church and across the graveyard, with almost the whole town following behind us.
Once there, we moved it onto the straps waiting, and watched as the attendants put them in the right place to lower it into the ground.
Then, we all stood with our hearts in our hands as the priest read out a prayer for him as they began to lower him.
They’d only just started the process when Bexley collapsed onto her knees and screamed, “I can’t let him go. Please, don’t do it! Make him come back, please.”
The last word was her literally begging them, and I couldn’t take it. I wanted to make it happen, but I just didn’t have the power to do it.
Dropping to my knees next to her, I pulled her back onto my lap and rocked her, with her begging still audible through her sobs. Her dad, Kenton, got down beside me and wrapped his arms around us, whispering into his daughter’s hair, trying to help her through it, as her mom, Lorena, moved to my other side to do the same thing.
We were cocooning her, powerless to fix how broken her heart was. It was the worst moment of my life, and that said something.
She still hadn’t settled by the time it was over, so her mom drove us back to their house. The deep growl that came from the big ass dog that’d belonged to her pops stopped me in my tracks as I carried her inside, but I managed to veer around him and go up the stairs, and lay down with her on her bed while the doctor sedated her.
It was the final push of the knife that’d been plunged into my heart seven years ago, fucking sedating her on the day she buried her beloved pops. Neither of them would’ve wanted it, but it had to happen because she was struggling to breathe and her pulse was all over the place.
Years ago, I’d had a childhood crush on her.
Years after that, I’d made the biggest mistake of my life, and it’d been my wake-up call.
Days after that, I decided to join the police and stay in Piersville after I’d graduated from the Police Academy. I’d explained it all to her parents and Pops, and promised that I’d make it all up to her. I’d transformed from the selfish teenager to a man who got his shit in order.
And I’d waited for her to come back.
For seven years.
Now she was here, but she’d lost a piece of her soul. We all knew it—they were just that close.
Five days ago, when he’d died, I’d sworn I’d get her through it.
After today, I didn’t know how, but I’d take anything she threw at me if it helped her recover.
It felt like I’d wanted her my whole life, and that came with doing my best to get her through the hard times, even if it meant staying away. I didn’t want to stay away from her for this one, though, so I was going to do everything I could to help her without hurting her even more.
I knew I could do that. She was my reason for existing.
Chapter Two
Bexley
Two days later…
“Honey, you have to eat,” Mom tried again.
It wasn’t that I was making it happen, I just felt nauseous when I even thought about food. Every part of my body hurt and felt exhausted, and my stomach was part of it.
“I can’t,” I croaked, my voice sounding harsh from all of the crying. The doctor had checked it out this morning and said I’d strained my vocal cords and assured me it would get better with time.
Apparently everything I felt right now would get better with time.
They were lying. The pain in my heart couldn’t possibly get better. How did losing someone you loved more than life ever feel better?
“What about a cracker?” Dad asked as he sat on the coffee table, ignoring the glares coming from Mom.
See, the coffee table was a priceless antique that’d belonged to her great-great-great-grandmother. It’d been lovingly cared for since the day my grandma had given it to her, telling her the story of how it’d been brought across the seas on a ship and tracked over hundreds of miles in a wagon when they’d first come here. So, when my dad sat on it like he was at that moment and the wood creaked, she freaked
