Page 56 of At Last

16.

Caitlin

Since Jesse had no family, the brothers arranged for him to be cremated. We’ve all gathered today up on a mountain bluff overlooking a valley. It’s a beautiful spot to hold a memorial service. It’s the best we could come up with right now, seeing as Houdini is still out there somewhere.

The Lords have a tradition, one last ride for a fallen brother. They’ll sprinkle his ashes along the open road. Freedom in death. But as Houdiniisstill out there somewhere, neither Duke nor the other brothers would leave yet. So Jesse’s final ride will have to wait until it’s safe for them to leave us women and children alone.

Not that I have the right to be here, Jesse would still be alive if I hadn’t dragged him out of the clubhouse to take me and Jade to Fun Zone. All Duke’s pain, the new lines formed around his normally bright eyes, the tired weariness that accompanies him even in his sleep, all my doing. And I’d know, since I left the hospital sleep hasn’t been my friend. I lay in bed at night and watch him struggle.

So much struggle. So much heartache. I woke up for a few minutes what I assume was that first night in the hospital or it could have been any night as I’d stayed unconscious for two and a half days. That night, Duke held my hand. His eyes were closed, head downcast, but even in the dark, I could see his pain.Feelhis pain. “You fucking owe me,” he’d whispered. “Today of all days, let her be okay.”

I’d never seen a man so broken. Part of me wanted to squeeze his hand, to let him know. But the casts on my wrists felt awkward and he looked like he needed to be alone with his thoughts. Then, I passed back out so quickly, it had probably been good that I didn’t.

They waited the week for me to be released and the second week convalescing at home, before holding the service. Duke helped me dress this morning, a simple black sundress. Trisha showed up to help with my hair and makeup, seeing as with two broken wrists, I’m pretty much useless.

All that’s left of my friend, that beautiful man, rests in an industrial strength cardboard box. No chairs except for the one Duke brought for me and Sneak brought for Trisha. Elise leans against Boss, who holds their sleeping son against his chest.

I have my arm around my girl as she stands with her head resting on my shoulder. Duke stands before all of us, a pillar of fortitude for the men and women gathered today. As he begins to speak, stoic emotion filling his words, I feel myself begin to shut down.

Back erect in the seat, as I continue to hold my girl, dark shades cover my eyes. Duke’s voice washes over me. The words become a jumble of sounds. When he moves from the front of the gathering, I’m the first to stand, move my girl back a step, because no matter how much she wants me to hold her, I’m still weak and recovering, and slowly walk over to the urn where I place my hand and whisper my apology. An apology, which will never reach his ears because he’s dead. Gone.

My daughter whimpers as she trails along behind me. She knows we’re all sad, and she feels his loss. Jesse was her friend, but death is a hard concept for a child as young as Jade to understand. I wish to any god that would listen, that she didn’t have to understand it now.

I’m heartsick.

Though being the president’s old lady, the brothers and their women won’t see me cry. It’s a time to show strength, even if I don’t feel strong. Others follow me up to the urn. They also try to engage me in conversation. That I can’t handle right now, and excuse myself and walk back to the truck with my daughter in tow.

Once secured in her booster in the backseat with her blanket, I turn on a movie for my little girl. None of it comes easy with two casted wrists, but this is the least of the penance I deserve for taking that beautiful life.

Jade and I wait until the last of the mourners has moved to a bike or truck, and Duke slides in the driver’s seat. He tries to take my hand as he drives us toward the compound, but I pull away, clasping my hands in my lap so he can’t try again.

Neither of us speaks.

When we reach the house, he parks and moves to get Jade. I don’t even tell him thank you, walking into the utility room through the main living space, down the hallway into the master where I immediately head to the bathroom and lock the door. Only then, only then do I allow myself to cry. Sinking down to my knees, I close my eyes and let the sobs rip through me.

“Jesse.” I cry to no one. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please…please…” I beg him, though I don’t know for what. Forgiveness? To have this all be a practical joke? A nightmare? “I’m so sorry…” I continue to cry.

The doorknob jiggles and there’s a soft knock. “Doc?” Duke calls. When I don’t answer, he knocks harder. “Doc, honey let me in.”

No. He’ll only try to comfort me. I don’t want his comfort.

A couple minutes pass. The doorknob jiggles again and then the door pops open. Duke, my Chief, looks haggard as he bends to pull me up. His touch almost stings as he tries to hold me.

“No.” I ball my fist and pound on his chest. “Don’t touch me. We killed him.We did. I took him with me, but you took her side.” My accusation comes out a yell as I pound on his chest again, needing him to hurt as badly as I hurt. “You took her side. Now Jesse’s dead.I hate you.” I used both fists now to pound, and he doesn’t attempt to stop me, taking everything I throw at him until there’s nothing left, and I sag against him.

Then his arms wrap to hold me.

Scooping me up like a bride, he moves us to the bed and lays me down, spooning against me. No space between us. Between the crying and still recovering from my surgeries, the tiredness engulfs me. My wrists throb bitterly, and I’m achy all over from the exertion. My skin pulls especially tight along three incision marks. I can only hope my insides have healed enough to not reopen.

Hitting him was stupid. For so many reasons.

“You might hate me, honey,” comes his gruff whisper. “But somewhere along the way, I fell for you. It’s my fault. I shoulda told Mamie to shut the fuck up right then and there.Fuck.”

God, I’m such a bitch. The way he’s taken care of me, of my daughter while I recover. What a terrible, heartless thing to say.

“No.” I sniff, then whisper back, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you Duke.” I sniff a second time. “I just hurt so badly, I needed you to hurt too. I’m sorry. He was just…. He was like the brother I never had, you know? We spent so much time together, and now he’s gone. What am I supposed to do?”

“You lean on me,” he answers without a hint of hesitation. “Just lean on me. I’ve got you.” And he does have me. His arms wrap even snugger around me, his body practically cocoons me. But if I allow myself to fall into his protection, I just might break down again. And my head hurts too much to cry anymore. Which leaves me only one option, to change the subject.

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