Page 86 of Whirlwind
“What?” I sit up, as if that will help me process the words.
“She didn’t want a funeral,” he says, ignoring my shock. “She’ll be interred with my dad. If you want to be there for that, you need to come home.”
His voice is cold, without emotion. Which, I guess, is better than anger or cruelty. He could at least pretend to be sad, but he’s never been good at hiding how he feels.
“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Her house is yours, now. You can stay there. Text me when you get here; I’ll drop off the key.”
“Oh. I didn’t know she did that,” I say. When he doesn’t respond, I add, “I’ll let you know when I land.”
“All right,” he says, then ends the call.
I stare down at my phone, wondering what I’ve done to deserve the last twelve hours of my life. Then, I start making a mental list of everything I need to do—except, I can’t focus on any of it because the only family I had just died.
With watery eyes, I call the only person I can count on, right now.
“What’s wrong?” Willa asks immediately. She knows I wouldn’t call this early unless it was urgent.
“My dad just called to tell me my grandma died,” I say, surprised I’m not in tears. None of this feels real—maybe I’m still asleep.
“Shit, Kit. I’m so sorry. What do you need? Is Tyson with you?”
“No. We had…not a fight, but something happened.”
“What?”
I almost tell her. I will tell her. But right now, what Tyson did isn’t as important as going to Maine. That’s what I need help with, first—because I don’t know if I can go back there alone. I’m not sure I’d mentally survive it.
“I need to go to Maine. He’s going to inter her with my grandfather, and if I wait too long, he’ll do it without me there.”
“Okay, I’ll have Damian get us on a flight today. Will that work?”
“Thank you,” I say on a soft sob, loving that she doesn’t hesitate.
“Of course, babe. I’m not letting you do any of this alone, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll let work know I need time off. I guess she left me her house. I don’t know what condition it’s in, but we can stay there.”
“Did you know she was doing that?”
“No,” I answer. “I had no idea. Do you think Isla would keep Nightmare for me?”
“I’m sure she would, and Sadie would love that. I’ll call her and work out dropping him off on the way to the airport. You just pack what you need, okay?”
“I can do that. Thank you again, Willa.”
“We’ve got you,” she reassures. “Do you need anything else, right now?”
“No. I’ll shower and pack so I’m ready.”
“If you think of anything else, text me. We’ll be there soon. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I say, ending the call.
By now, Nightmare is scratching at the door. Wrapping myself in a blanket, I take him to the yard, sit on the damp grass, and try to organize my thoughts while he takes care of business.
Even though we didn’t talk often, I can’t believe she’s gone. Or that I’ll never hear her voice again. It’s complicated—this tangle of emotions running through me. I’m sad, yet guilty for not being sadder. What does it say about me that I’m not breaking down, bawling my eyes out?
