Page 78 of Wicked Player

I folded the handkerchief she’d always clutched in her hands on Sunday mornings at church. Memories when I was a little girl, curled up to her side. For some reason, when she passed, it was one of the few possessions I’d clung to and wanted.

“Take care of him, Mamma,” I whispered and zipped the item into my small clutch. Lip gloss, keys, and my phone the only other items.

I took the day off work and immediately following the ceremony, my plan was to return home and sleep the rest of the day.

It took too long and not enough time to drive to the funeral home outside Raleigh. The parking lot was packed when I arrived, three limos already lined at the entrance behind a hearse with flags on top. I ended up parallel parking down the street two blocks and followed families and a few men I recognized from the football team into the funeral home.

My fingers clasped my clutch nervously as I entered, eyes scanning the anteroom. Clusters of young children in suits and ties stood with parents. At the sight of them, my knees buckled. These would have been Brandon’s family. His classmates. His friends and teammates.

God. All of this sucked. I quickly removed my wool pea coat and hung it on a rack off to the side and smoothed down my dress again. It was a nervous habit, but it wasn’t nerves making my fingers shake and my chin tremble. It was everything else. The sadness.

The unfairness of it all.

Even the uncertainty of what would happen if Gage saw me. For that very reason alone, I quietly moved toward the sign-in ledger and slipped into the surprisingly large chapel room where the service would be held.

I found an open spot in the back corner and picked up a copy of the program before I sat down.

At the front of the room, Penny stood next to who I assumed was her ex-husband. They stood together, avoiding each other and more pain pierced my heart at the sight of her.

Ravaged. Destroyed. Amidst all the pain and suffering her son endured, she’d always held out hope he’d pull through. She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes when a woman her age reached in and hugged her. Her eyes closed and next to her, her ex-husband placed his hand on the small of her back. He looked lost, as if he realized he’d lost everything that had once been so dear to him. And while she didn’t look at the man whose name I didn’t even know, my heart broke for him as well, even if I despised him for leaving Penny to deal with all of this alone.

Next to the two of them were two sets of couples, both older. His grandparents. God, I couldn’t even deal with seeing them and the sadness lining their expressions.

I yanked my eyes off the family, quick to avoid the casket at the front, and noticed players from the Rough Riders standing off to the side in a corner. And among that gathered group was the man I hoped didn’t see me. His head was dipped as he listened to Jones say something to him. He nodded once, accepted the pat to the shoulder and before he rose his head, I pulled my eyes off him. Today wasn’t the day for drama. I was there for Brandon and Penny, and in part for Gage, my silent support for a man who had already been through this once.

I dipped my head, closed my eyes, and until the service began and through the rest of it, I struggled to choke down tears clawing at the back of my eyes.

When it was done, I exited quickly through a side door and hurried to my car. And once the procession pulled out, I followed the two-mile trek to the cemetery.

* * *

My planat the cemetery was the same as at the funeral home. Arrive right before it started, stand in the back, keep my head down and leave soon after paying my respects to Penny.

That plan faltered almost immediately as I cautiously stepped through the grass on heels. Near the back of the set up white chairs, a sweet brunette stood, eyes scanning the oncoming mourners. They landed on me and she smiled.

“Hey,” Shannon said. She reached for my hand and squeezed. “What a horrible day, huh?”

“Yes.” I squeezed her hand and tried to pull it from her, but she held on tight.

“Gage told me he wanted you with him.” A worried expression momentarily hid her sadness. “Is that okay? He asked me.”

I was stuck on that he wanted me. How he knew I was there. But he wanted me with him?

“Okay.” I nodded and she finally let go of my hand.

She gestured for me to go first and as I stepped around her, she whispered, “And later, when it’s a more appropriate time, you’re going to tell me exactly why it is he was so adamant of wanting you nearby. And why you didn’t mention anything going on between you before.”

“It’s—”

“Not nothing,” she whispered. Her smile was faint but there and playful. “If that’s what you were going to say. Even I can tell that.”

Well. She could think whatever she wanted, but until Gage and I talked everything out which wouldn’t happen today, it very well could be nothing.

I headed down the row of chairs and stopped when a large blockade stepped in front of me.

Gage. His hands were at his sides, tightly curled fists. And man, it was not the right time to drag my gaze up the length of his perfectly fitted black suit and shirt that fit him so damn perfectly he could have made the cover of GQ sizzle to ash he was so hot.

I met his eyes, took in his scowl, and the frown line etched deep between his eyes.

---