Page 63 of Fight Or Flight

Brooklyn

My mom didn’t want a viewing, she said she didn’t want me to remember her in a coffin. At the time, I agreed with her. I wanted to remember my mom as the beautiful, vibrant woman who was once so full of life. I wanted to recall all the times she pushed me on the swings and raced me down the block. The times we played dress-up and the nights we stayed up watching our favorite movies. I wanted to erase the years of illness and the weeks of death.

So, two days after I watched my mother draw her last breath, we had a small service at the cemetery. The priest prayed for her soul, and every biker that ever knew my dad laid a red rose on top of her coffin. My beautiful mom was laid to rest with the love of her life, my dad. They didn’t get their fair shot on earth, but maybe, just maybe, Bones welcomed her with a smile and if love truly burns eternally, I want to believe they’re dancing up in Heaven together.

“Brooklyn? What are you doing in here?”

I lift my gaze from the empty hospital bed and turn to find Lauren standing in the doorway. While mostly everyone else changed out of their funeral attire as soon as we got back to the house, she still wears the simple black dress she wore this morning to the service. I suppose that’s because everyone came back to the house after the funeral and she’s been running around, making sure everyone has a full plate at all times. Riggs says it’s an Italian thing, but I think it’s just a Lauren thing. She goes out of her way to make sure everyone in her house feels right at home.

I point to the empty cardboard box I took from the garage and I shrug my shoulders.

“I thought I’d get a head start on packing up my mom’s things,” I say, purposely not meeting her concerned gaze. “I’ll be going back to school next week and Bella is probably anxious to get her playroom back.”

The last couple of weeks have been crazy for everyone in this house. Their lives were flipped upside down to accommodate me and my mom, and I’m sure they’re eager to get back to normal. The least I can do is help them get there.

“Oh, Brook,” she whispers, touching her hand to my cheek. “Honey, there’s no rush. Bella doesn’t care where she plays, the only thing she wants is someone to play with her.”

I lift my chin and think about the little girl who took my hand at the service.

It’s okay, Brooklyn, your mommy is an angel now.

Sadly, I haven’t made time to get to know Bella, but now maybe that will change some. I can clean out this room and fill it with all her toys. I can play dress-up with her, just like my mom used to play with me.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Lauren questions, cocking her head to the side.

“Just thinking.”

“Why don’t you leave your mom’s stuff for another day?” she suggests. “Sleep on it and if you still want to clear out the room, I’ll help you, but there is no rush.”

I believe that, especially since they still have all my dad’s stuff. I think the Montgomery’s might actually have a hoarding problem.

Lauren closes the distance between us and brings me into her arms, squeezing me slightly. When we pull apart, I stare at her, noting the tears in her eyes.

“That hug was more for me than it was for you.”

Aside from being a bunch of hoarders, they’re all really affectionate in times of despair. I think I’ve received more hugs in the last two days than I have my entire life and that’s saying a lot because my mom was big on hugs too.

God, I’d give anything to feel her arms lock around me one more time.

Anything.

A knock sounds, causing us both to turn to the door. Eric’s eyes zero in on me for a moment, and I swear all the breath leaves my lungs as I recall the way he pried me from my mom’s body and carried me up the stairs to his room. With a gentleness I didn’t know anyone could possess, he laid me down and crawled into the bed with me. He held me as I cried, kissed my tears away, and when I woke the next morning, he did it all over again. He would probably still be holding me if I didn’t put an end to it. Still kissing my tears away and assuring me I’m the strongest girl he’s ever known.

A pretty little hurricane.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, clearing his throat as he tears his eyes away from me and focuses on his mom. “Grandma is asking for you. She can’t seem to find the espresso machine.”

Lauren releases her hold on me, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips as she rolls her eyes.

“That’s because we don’t have one,” she mutters. “I’ve been serving them instant espresso for years.”

“Savage,” Eric replies with a wink. “You want me to relay that message?”

Narrowing her eyes, she points a finger at him.

“I’ll kill you,” she hisses, and he chuckles. Turning back to me, she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to go deal with them before seventeen years of tricking them into thinking I’m some kind of barista goes down the tubes. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I nod and watch as she brushes past her son, pausing to warn him to keep his mouth shut about the espresso secret one last time before she disappears. Once we’re alone, Eric shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. He’s still wearing the fitted dress shirt from earlier, only the sleeves are rolled up and the top three buttons are undone. The tie his uncle Anthony forced him to wear is gone too.

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