Page 42 of Beautifully Shattered
One brotherhood.
Glancing down at my Angel, I notice her curiosity and remember what she said the day we got married. That us bikers were poetic.
And fuck, maybe she’s right, because what we’re about to do next is sacred. It’s not something you’ll see at any civilian funeral.
9
I’ve never known a funeral to be like this. There’s so much honour. So much grief, yet also so much celebration. This service is, well… unexpected, but utterly beautiful, and for the first time since Bobbi died a week ago, I let myself think about how I’ll honour the few minutes she lived.
It’s something I’ve been avoiding. When Ace called Ringo a few days ago and asked if I needed help choosing a casket, I completely shut down.
All I wanted was to smash the vase on the table, straight into Ringo’s skull, and that… terrified me.
He was just the messenger, and Ace was just trying to help as well.
But my rage has been consuming me. I haven’t eventriedto fight it, if I’m being honest with myself.
Why should I?
Whyshould I push it down just to make other people more comfortable?
They don’t know what this is like. They haven’t lost a child… Except, that’s not true, is it?
Ringo has.
Jols was right. Our experiences aren’t the same, but he knows this kind of heartache.
I have to keep reminding myself of that. Remind myself thathe loves me. ThatI love him. That he’d doanythingfor me.
Because sometimes, the rage inside me wants to take over. It wants to destroy. It wants to make this whole world suffer.
And sometimes, I want to let it.
Music starts playing from a hidden speaker, and my brows shoot up when the heavy beat drops.
“It’s a playlist of their favourite songs,” Ringo rasps quietly in my ear, picking up on my confusion. “Today, their music is the only music we’ll hear.”
Ohhh. I love that.
That’s so special.
My thoughts shift to Bobbi’s funeral, and my gut twists.
She never got to listen to music. Never got to decide what she did and didn’t like.
Does that mean her funeral will be silent?
“Hey.” Ringo’s warm palm comes up to cup my cheek as he shifts in front of me. “What can I do?”
Shit.
I bet he knows I’m thinking about my little girl. He’s so perceptive. Especially when it comes to me.
It makes me feel guilty for the real reason I agreed to come today. I hate myself a little for it, but I’m also glad. It’s what got me heretoday. Because as hard as this is. I needed this. The reminder of how fiercely the Southern Sadists take care of their own.
“Nothing,” I breathe. “I’m okay. Promise.”
He doesn’t buy my lie. I see it in his eyes, almost like I’ve let him down.
