Page 71 of Cruel Love
He turned away when the hearse carrying my mom’s coffin arrived,and I followed my father to the front of the church where we took our seats, my father sitting between Elijah and me.The inside of the church had been decorated with thousands of whitecarnations - my mom’s favorite flower - and as her coffin was carried to the front of the church,Amazing Gracewas played on the organ, the lilting notes echoing around the small nave.
Throughout the service, I stared at my mom’s coffin. I meant what Isaid to Willow; my mom died the day my father cut her tongue out. But as my gaze fixed on the wooden box, a large gold frame containing a picture of her smiling from many years ago next to the coffin, it hit methatI would never see her again.
Never see her eyes light up with love whenever she looked at me.Never see the fond smile on her face when I would tell her about how well Billie was doing. Never get to tell her I was grateful for the years she spent making sure I didn’t turn out like my father.
As if Willow noticed my somberness, she laced her fingers throughmine, gently tugging my hand into her lap and holding it there. My gaze dropped to her, and she met my stare, a small, reassuring smile on her lips.
My cold heart skipped a beat.
When the priest finished talking shit about how my mom lived her lifeto the full, I stood shoulder to shoulder with my father as we walked behind the coffin to the plot where she would spend the rest of eternity.
We didn’t linger after the coffin was lowered into the ground. Thesooner I got to my father’s house, the sooner I could throw a glass of whisky down my throat.
During the short drive to the house, Willow resumed her position ofstaring out the window, taking in the passing scenery. I knew she had a ton of questions after I’d told her about what I’d learned. It wasn’tthatI didn’t want to answer them, it wasthatI couldn’t. I simply didn’t know.
As I pulled the car onto the driveway leading to the house, the nightbefore churned in my head.
Charlotte.
It suited her. Not as much as Willow did, and if I ever got to thebottom of her story before Peartree House, I couldn’t imagine myself using her real name.
She would always be my Willow.
My mouse.
Within the hour, the wake was in full swing. The staff who’d attendedthe service to pay their respects were now busy carrying trays of appetizers, the guests sipping glasses of expensive champagne.
I wasn’t in any mood to socialize. The majority of guests were Legionmembers, there for other purposes than to say farewell to a woman they hadn’t seen in years.
Willow stayed by my side, her head bowed as guests wouldoccasionally approach to offer their condolences before attempting to talk business. My scowl saw them scarper.
At the far end of the ballroom where the wake was being held, theenormous grandfather clock ticked down the minutes until I could make my excuses and get the fuck out of the house. Away from people I once admired but now held contempt toward. They were nothing but fake assholes.
“James,”a familiar voice said, dragging my gaze away from the clock. Next to me,Willow tensed as Welch held his hand out for me to shake.“I wouldjustlike to say how sorry I am for your loss.”
I glared at him, refusing to take his hand. I never liked Welch before,but knowingthatnot only was he the one responsible for Willow’s pain, but was also conspiring with my father to take her away, I wanted to gut the fucker with a blunt knife.
He shuffled awkwardly on his feet and lowered his hand, his gazedropping to my mouse.“Willow. It’s lovely to see you again.”
Subtly, she moved closer to me knowing I would protect her, andwisely, she didn’t speak.
Good girl.
Welch cleared his throat, his disapproving eyes meeting mine again.“James, I was wondering if I might have a few minutes alone with Willow?”
“No.”My answer would have been the sameevenif Willow hadn’tsqueezed my hand, telling me she didn’t want to talk to him.
Anger flashed on his piggy face, his puffy cheeks red from thechampagne he’d already consumed. Composing himself, he gave me a fake smile, letting out a humorless chuckle.“Come now, James. Don’t be unreasonable. I was her guardian for eight years-”
“And now you’re not,”I interrupted, my tone stern.
Welch’s eyes dropped to Willow again, a pleading look in them as ifhe was asking her to talk some sense into me.
She wouldn’t.
And to prove how much control I had over my mouse, I smileddeviously back at Welch.“Mouse, do you want to speak with your old director?”
“No.”
