My breathing became shallow as my fear gripped me, and I felt Blaire’s arm slip around my waist. She’d been beside me whenever Rush couldn’t be in the past few days. She didn’t say much, but she brought me tea and fixed me meals. When I didn’t want to eat, she didn’t force me.
She’d held my hair back as I threw up this morning, then had given me a cold, damp cloth to wipe my face. When I had looked at her, I’d expected pity, but I’d seen none of that. I’d just seen silent encouragement. She had reminded me that I was strong without using words.
The bridge I never thought could be was slowly forming between us, and I didn’t hate it. Not anymore. Life was short. We weren’t promised tomorrow. Wasting what time we did have on hating others or hating the paths we were given was pointless. We should embrace it and make the best of it.
I leaned into her, letting her know that I appreciated her being there. She didn’t have to accept me or care about me. Rush would love her regardless. I deserved her hate.
My brother loved her for many reasons. I knew that what I was experiencing was one of the biggest reasons. Blaire’s heart was bigger than that of anyone I’d ever met. I was thankful that this was the woman who loved my brother and was the mother of my nephew and my unborn niece.
I lifted my gaze, which had settled on the roses on top of Major’s casket, and locked it with Cope’s.
We hadn’t spoken. His part in all of this had been explained to me by federal agents who had come in to question me about what had happened and my connection to Franco. I understood what Major had been trying to tell me about Cope. The surveillance all made sense now. They had been protecting me all along.
My need to be loved was so controlling and pathetic that I’d believed that Gannon was something he was not. I couldn’t hate him for that. It was me and my messed-up need to be wanted that had created this heartbreak I now had to overcome.
Major was gone. That was more important than the fact that I thought I loved a man who didn’t even exist. I had chosen to get pregnant with his child, and now I would make the best of that by being the best mother on earth.
Cope held my gaze, and I wanted to read things into that dark look that weren’t there. That would never be there. It was over now. He would leave. My memories of this time would forever be clouded with the sorrow and tragedy of Major’s death.
I was strong. I was self-sufficient. I was going to be OK.
Cope
I didn’t know Blaire Finlay, but watching her comfort Nan when I couldn’t made me like the woman. She had suffered at the hand of a bitter, angry Nan. I knew the stories. I’d studied the background. I knew about everyone connected to Nan. Most of the friends at this funeral were here in support of Mase, Captain, and Nan. I could categorize each one and list the interactions and connections they’d had with Nan over the years.
The absence of Nan’s mother throughout this episode spoke volumes that I hoped the others saw—those who weren’t ready to forgive Nan for her past sins. Villains were created, not born. That was something I’d come to know as a fact. I’d witnessed it over and over.
Although Nan wasn’t ever a real villain, she was a deeply damaged and hurt female, and was there anything more dangerous? I doubted it.
Finally, she tore her gaze from mine, and the coldness I’d felt before seeped back into me. I missed her. I’d missed her every moment since she’d left Vegas. Slipping my right hand into my pocket, I held the circular packet of pills she had left behind. I had kept them with me because they were hers and a reminder that she had loved me. This was my proof.
If someone had told me a year ago that a woman was going to trap me with pregnancy, I’d have snarled and thought she’d be a stupid bitch, because that wouldn’t keep me. Nothing would.
Until I’d watched Nan step out of her car for the first time, and I knew. Life had changed from that moment. All my plans, decisions, beliefs, and hatred for humankind had turned. And I never wanted to go back.
Major
My dad didn’t cry. Huh? I kinda thought he would. I even expected it. Hard-ass son of a bitch. I wondered if he was still holding my sexcapade with my last stepmom against me. The woman had been a couple of years older than me. She could have been his daughter. Perverted old goat. I’d saved him another ugly divorce, along with half his money. He should have thanked me for it. Besides, she hadn’t been that damn memorable in the sack. Sure, she’d had killer tits and all, but that was it. Her ass had needed more plump.
Cope could look more torn up about this. I mean, I did “die” and all. He was too worried about Nan and winning her back to focus on me. I knew where that was headed. He’d basically told me as much last night. Whatever feelings I’d had for her were now nonexistent, just like me. I’d never get to tell her how I really felt. That a part of me loved her. When I never expected to love at all.
Loving a woman, however, wasn’t in my life plan. I had too many things to chase. It was time for that now. No more drama, just action. I turned my attention to my cousin.
Mase was the one I felt the most guilt over. He looked devastated, and damned if he shouldn’t be. I’d expected him to be a mess about my death. He seemed to be meeting my expectations. I even saw tears in his eyes. That made mine sting a little themselves. I hated doing this to him.
I surveyed the rest of them, and it was good to know that I was loved and would be missed. Most people didn’t get to see their own funerals. Well, I guessed they didn’t. I wasn’t actually dead. Hell, dead people might get to hang around and watch. Who knew? I hoped they did, because this was a good feeling. Made you appreciate people more and the life you lived. Knowing you touched people and they would miss you. Seeing the tears in their eyes felt pretty damn good, too. Except I did feel some guilt from that.