Page 55 of The Refiner

“In the meantime, I suggest you email her for anything else you require in her absence. She’ll let you know about the project.”

He hangs up the phone and slams it on the island, his chest expanding and contracting with harsh breaths. I almost smile at how upset he is, but then he pulls me away and looks me in the eyes. “I better never hear him speak to you that way again.” He leans down and ever so casually kisses my forehead, his lips moving against my skin with his words. “Handle him or I will. I won’t warn you again.”

Astor

Keagan has hardly spoken to me since I threatened her about her boss a few days ago. “I’ll take care of it” was all she said before she disappeared back into Piper’s office, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

I was no longer a welcome guest. I had crossed the line and interfered with her job. But some things you can’t look away from, and that dickhead, Alan or Asher, whatever his name is, is a prime example. How dare he call Keagan and leave a message with me that if she didn’t get her ass back to the office next week that she’d be fired. What kind of man—what kind of boss—gives a grieving woman that kind of ultimatum?

A broke one.

At least he will be when my attorney is finished with him.

I have no qualms about going after a man that abuses his power. That’s not the kind of boss we need around our wives, daughters, and mothers. This man needed to be put in his place. So, I don’t care how pissed off Keagan is at me, it had to be done.

“Duke said he found her.”

I nod at Halle by my side and point up the hill at the woman dressed in green. But it isn’t her flowy jade dress that stands out amongst the throngs of people walking back to their cars in their funeral-black ensembles.

“What are you going to do?”

Halle pats Tatum on the bottom, attempting to stop her fussing. It’s as if Tatum knows this is a day of mourning for her too.

“I don’t know.” I sigh, looking at the top of the hill where Keys sits—up in a tree, her legs dangling off an oak branch.

Piper’s funeral was a beautiful yet ugly reminder that life is short and unforgiving. Piper deserved many more years on this earth, not just an elegant funeral that Keagan spent several days pulling together. She obsessed over her clothes—even the flowers. Keagan handled it, all just as Piper would have wanted. And it was stunning. The perfect sendoff for a beautiful soul.

I hand Halle my car key. “Will you take Tatum home and watch her for a couple hours?” Keagan never makes things easy, and I’m under no fantasy that she’ll come down without an argument.

“Of course,” she says, pulling me in for a hug, “take as long as you need.”

“We won’t be long.” Today wasn’t easy to endure. The last thing I want is to be away from my daughter longer than I need to be. “Tatum will need a bottle in an hour.”

Halle flashes me a sad smile. “I’ll take care of your little girl. Go take care of Keagan. She needs you.”

I don’t correct Halle. Keagan needs her sister, not me. All I seem to do is upset her more. “I’ll be home soon. Drive safe.”

I watch as Vance guides Halle and my daughter to the car, handing Remington the keys to his car, so he can drive the girls. It’s times like this that remind me how fortunate I am to have such a big family—a family that is there for me, even when I might not always want the help. I don’t know that I could have handled this all alone.

The cemetery has thinned to only a couple of people by the time I trek up the hill, heading toward Keagan. I can see her staring at the casket where her sister rests, her gaze far away from here, but I can’t tell if she’s crying.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warns.

Looking up, I find her gaze now on me. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” From this angle, it doesn’t look as if she has any weapons or objects to throw.

“Go away, Astor. I’m not in the mood to see you in hero mode.”

I choke on a laugh as I circle the tree, looking up. “Hero mode?”

Even this far away, I can see her roll her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know what that means.”

“I don’t,” I admit honestly. “You’ll have to excuse my lack of knowledge about gaming modes. I spent more time with books than video game consoles.”

“I bet your parents are proud.” It’s not a compliment.

“They aren’t—my parents, I mean. They’re proud of Vance, not me.” I slip off my suit coat and lay it on the grass. Keagan doesn’t look as if she’s coming down anytime soon, and Texas, even in late October, is still sweltering.

“Why not you? Aren’t you and Vance both plastic surgeons?”

---