Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“True,” I choked out. “And he’d be asking how exactly I planned on killing you. His favorite was the wood chipper, even though he knew we didn’t have one.”
“Wood chipper. That’s a good one,” Shane said tiredly, closing his eyes.
“How does this shit happen?” I asked seriously, sitting up in the recliner as I held Arielle tightly against me. “He died during training?”
“I’ve seen guys do some pretty stupid shit when we were training,” Shane said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Maybe Hen was doing everything the way he was supposed to—who knows. They try to plan for every contingency, but fuck, sometimes shit just goes sideways, and there’s nothing they can do.”
“So fucked up,” I said, shaking my head.
“I can tell you this much,” Shane said, meeting my eyes. “They did whatever they could to save him. They wouldn’t have just let it happen. The men he was with, they would have been working like hell to help him.”
“Okay.” I swallowed hard.
“And he wasn’t alone.”
“Okay.” I dropped my head down beside Arielle’s and closed my eyes as my nose began to sting, remembering Henry as a six-year-old with missing bottom front teeth, yelling at us to not leave him behind as we ran to pick blackberries. Henry as an eleven-year-old, trying to hide in the bed of my truck when Alex and I were going out with a couple of girls from school. Henry sleeping on Katie’s floor when we’d lost power for an entire week one winter. Henry asking Ani out over and over again, his fourteen-year-old chest puffed out as he tried to make himself seem bigger. Henry jumping on Trev’s back and yelling at the top of his lungs as he tried to take him down, but failing because Trev was built like a shark and Henry was a minnow.
“You all right?” my mom asked, pulling me out of my memories as she set a gentle hand on the top of my head.
“Yeah,” I rasped, nodding.
“Love you, Abraham,” she said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Wish I could take this all away from you kids.”
“I’m a grown-up,” I argued halfheartedly.
“You’re still my son,” she said, reaching out to take Arielle from my arms. “Now it’s my turn to hold the princess. You’ve been hogging her.”
Chapter 14
Anita
Shit, Trev could carry the fucking thing by himself,” I growled in frustration, making everyone grow silent around me. My tone was scathing. I couldn’t stop it. “Bram, Alex, Shane, and Trev can carry him; all this bullshit about pallbearers is stupid. You’ve got four. If you don’t want the honor guard to do it, tell them no. The end.”
My hands shook as I set them in my lap, the silence growing heavier and heavier as I looked at the floor I was sitting on.
My nerves were fried.
It had been four days since we’d found out Henry was dead, and they were finally sending him home to be buried. We were supposed to go meet the airplane he was on—in the fucking cargo hold, no less—in just two hours, and I was about to lose my shit. I couldn’t deal.
Arielle was doing fine. She didn’t seem to notice or care about the extra attention she was getting from our family and was still sweet as sugar when it was time for her to sleep. No fussing or anything. Like she knew that I couldn’t take it.
But Bram was in my bed each night. I’d let him in that first night because I didn’t want to be alone, and I couldn’t stand the thought of Bram being alone, either. Now that Alex was in town, I’d assumed that I’d be able to distance myself a bit.
I’d assumed wrong.
Bram was up in my space even more. He kept coming to my house, and I kept letting him in—because how could I not? I loved the jackass, and I knew he was hurting. I couldn’t turn him away.
However, each time he rolled into me and wrapped an arm around my waist, I felt even more desperate for some space. I was holding on by a thread, barely making it through the hours I was awake without completely breaking down and sobbing my eyes out. There was shit to do, things to plan, people to see. The first week after a person dies is full of company and appointments and never having a moment to yourself.
I knew that.
When I went home at night though, I should have been able to shut all of that shit away and grieve. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do it with Bram’s wary eyes meeting mine as I opened my front door to him over and over again. I couldn’t do it when he shuddered against my back, practically trembling until he fell asleep every night. I couldn’t do it when I woke up in the morning and he was in Arielle’s room, changing her diaper and speaking softly to her about everything and nothing.