by R. C. Martin
“I’ll deal with them when we get back.”
“Sage—”
“Millicent,” I sigh, gripping the back of her neck as I lean in to press my forehead against hers. “You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you, and it’s not up for discussion.”
“Tickets will be expensive. It’s Christmas,” she replies meekly.
I lift my head from hers, reaching up with my free hand to hold the side of her face. “Don’t give a shit, baby doll. You’re not going alone. Not so long as you’re my girl. You still my girl?”
Her breath hitches in her throat and then she offers me a nod.
“Then it’s settled,” I say, ending the conversation with a quick kiss.
She surprises me when she leans in for more, but I follow her lead. When she flicks her tongue against my lips, I open up for her, letting her take what she wants. As she presses into me, circling her arms around my neck, my caution slips out of reach and I kiss her deeper—needing a taste. I don’t know how much time passes as we lose ourselves in each other, only that when she finally pulls away, we’re both breathless. She stares into my eyes, neither of us speaking, and then her tears return.
She buries her face against my neck and I slide an arm under her knees, bracing my other around her back as I lift her up and across my lap. “I’ve got you, gorgeous,” I assure her.
“I love you,” she whispers, squeezing me harder.
“I love you, too.”
This time, when her tears taper off, she doesn’t fall asleep. Rather, she relaxes against me and remains silent, probably lost in her head somewhere. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything, and that seems to be okay with her.
“We should look at tickets,” she whispers, her voice raspy.
“Okay. I think you should try and eat something, first. Have you eaten today?”
She inhales deeply and exhales slowly, shaking her head at me. “I don’t remember. But…I’m not hungry.”
“Some water then? You need something, baby.”
She hesitates before offering me a nod. “Okay.”
I let out a small sigh of relief and then start to lift her off of my lap so that I can head down to the kitchen. As soon as my feet hit the ground, she reaches for my hand and starts to crawl after me.
“Take me with you,” she insists.
I don’t question her. Instead, I wipe her cheeks dry and help her out of bed, wrapping my arm around her shoulders as we make our way out of my room and down the stairs. I hear their hushed whispers before I see them. When we reach the mouth of the kitchen, Millie and I both halt in unison.
Derrick looks up, noticing us first, and clears his throat. Knox and Maddox, who are standing at the fridge, loading it with beer, look over their shoulders at the sound. Rosy and Alex, who are busy setting something up on the kitchen island, both spin around, their gazes locking in on my girl and me. Both Violet and JJ look at us with caution, and I wonder what’s going on.
“Hey,” Rosy speaks, taking a step toward us. “Pepper made a couple batches of her famous chicken lasagna. I whipped up some cupcakes. We just thought…we wanted to do something.”
“We got booze,” Maddox announces.
“Millie, we’re so sorry to hear about your mom,” Alex murmurs.
I feel it as Millie starts to tremble beside me, and I’m not surprised when she bursts into tears. Violet rushes over and pries Millie away from me, wrapping her in a big hug. Millie sags against Vi, and Rosy and Alex are quick to surround her. Seeing them comfort her makes my chest swell.
She’s not alone.
She’s got me now.
She’s got all of us.
I DIDN’T MEAN to lose it in front of everyone, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing that they were all gathered together for me, it broke the loose hold I had on my emotions to begin with. It took me a minute, but I pulled myself up, wiping away my tears as I offered them a shaky smile.
Not long after, we were all spread out in the living room—some on the couches, some on the floor. Everyone had helped themselves to Pepper’s lasagna and the booze the Bradley brothers supplied. I opted for water, managing no more than a bite off of Sage’s plate. Any other day, I might have understood why Rose had dubbed it Pepper’s famous chicken lasagna; today, I could barely taste it.
A movie played softly in the background, but I’m not sure anyone was paying attention. Conversation was quiet, as if the news of my mother’s death weighed heavily on everyone, and I tried to listen; tried to focus on anything but my own thoughts; tried to forget all that lay ahead of me—but even more so, all the horrible memories that were behind me.
I tried. I tried and failed miserably.
When Sage was finished eating and I had satisfied him by downing an entire glass of water, he grabbed his computer and found us two plane tickets that would have us at the Newark Airport by tomorrow night. The airport is two hours away from our final destination, Steelmantown, New Jersey, but it was the cheapest he could find.
There’s nothing that I’m looking forward to in regards to this trip; adding one more hassle wasn’t going to make it any worse.
I helped him book us a rental car and hotel, knowing there was no way in hell I’d be able to stay at my mother’s place. Then, with our travel plans made, he suggested we get ready for bed. I agreed, wishing to be out from under the gaze of so many people—despite their genuine concern and companionship—and he helped me off the couch before we bid everyone goodnight. When we got to the stairs, he kissed my cheek and told me to head on up, that he was going to let Maestro out and then join me.
As I lay in his bed now, watching him take off his clothes and slip into a pair of sweatpants, I realize that I’m incredibly relieved to know that he’s coming with me tomorrow. At first, I didn’t want him to come. Jersey is my past, a place I had no intention of returning to. Especially not like this. The burden that waits for me is mine to carry—but his refusal to let me face it alone only proves that he knows me and understands me in ways I cannot even fathom.
I don’t want to do this alone.
I don’t have to do this alone.
So long as I’m his girl, he won’t let me do it alone.
“Mind if I put on a movie?” he asks, pointing toward his collection of DVDs and BluRays.
I shake my head no. It’s still early, and I imagine he won’t find sleep for a while. I, on the other hand, am exhausted. By the time he crawls into bed, I can already feel sleep pulling me under.
“Need anything, baby?”
He stretches out beside me, lifting his arm in invitation. I curl myself around him, resting my cheek against his warm, bare, tatted chest.
“No,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss against my forehead and begins fidgeting with my long ponytail, shifting his focus onto the screen hung up across the room. I close my eyes and just enjoy the feel of his solid body beneath mine; his heart beating beneath my ear, his deep breaths causing my head to rise and fall with his chest. Every few minutes, I feel it as he dips his chin to check on me, his lips grazing my hairline when he does. I fall asleep knowing that I am loved—knowing that, whatever tomorrow brings, I am already home.
I WAKE UP EARLY, like usual, and find Millie still asleep. I slept like shit—but my mom is still alive and well, so I don’t complain. Instead, I get my ass out of bed and head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. As it brews, I feed my pup and feast on a leftover cupcake from last night. I don’t think twice before grabbing another when I’m finished with the first. I’m halfway through my first bite when I see Millie walking into the kitchen. She looks to be still half asleep, her hair loose and draped around her face and down her chest.
“Hey,” I say in greeting as she shuffles her way toward me.
“Hi.”
I set aside my cupcake when she leans her hip against the counter in the space just beside me. She eyes my treat as she reaches up and sweeps her hair behind her ears, and a smirk pulls at
my lips as I slide it in her direction.
“Have at it, doll face.”
She looks up at me, then back down at the red velvet cupcake covered in cream cheese frosting. When she picks it up and takes a big bite, I chuckle softly before turning to grab two mugs.
“Want some coffee with that?”
“No, thanks,” she mutters with her mouth full.
“I think JJ might have some tea in the pantry,” I suggest.
She shakes her head as she swallows and then asks, “Do you have any milk?”
“Yeah, doll, we’ve got milk.” I dip my head and kiss her lips. “I’ll get you some.” I kiss her once more before turning toward the fridge. I pour her milk and then my coffee, swiping another cupcake as I prop myself right next to her again. We consume our breakfast in silence, and when she’s done, she rests her head against my shoulder while I finish my coffee. “Called Sarah last night after you knocked out,” I start to say, reaching for her hand. “Told her our plans. She said she would stay at your place last night and pack a bag for you. She’s supposed to stop by on her lunch break and drop it off.”
“I really wish people would stop being so nice to me,” she starts to say, her voice weak, but her grip around my fingers strong. “I’ll never stop crying if they don’t cut it out.”
I hide my smile in her hair, shaking my head at her slightly. “Cry on me all you like, baby doll, but we aren’t going to stop taking care of you. This is what friends and family do. We look out for each other. Right now, you need looking after—so get used to it.” I punctuate my statement with a kiss on top of her head and she lets go of my hand so she can slide her arms around my waist. I set aside my empty mug and fold her in my arms, rocking her back and forth a little.
“My phone,” she whispers. “I need my phone. I have to call the detective to let him know I’m coming. I…I left my phone—”
“I’ll text Sarah. Don’t worry about it, Millie.”
“Okay.” She draws in a shuddered breath and gives me a squeeze. “I have to ID the body. I don’t…I don’t want to go.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, sure that there’s no way around that shit.
“I don’t want to go,” she repeats.
“You’re not going alone,” I remind her. She nods, but I can tell my words haven’t penetrated through her fear. “Look at me.” When she does as I ask, I stare into her eyes, holding her gaze for a moment before I say, “You’ve got this, baby. We’ve got this. Do you believe me?”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“It’s you and me. We’re in this together.”
“Okay.”
“You and me,” I repeat.
“We’re in this together.”
I press my lips to hers in a soft kiss before I mumble, “That’s my girl.”
IT’S AFTER MIDNIGHT by the time we arrive at the hotel in my small town, and Sage and I both fall right into bed as soon as we get settled in. When the alarm on Sage’s phone sounds eight hours later, even just the thought of waking up makes me weak. I know what lies ahead of me today, and I don’t want to do any of it. Be that as it may, Sage gets me out of bed and in the shower. An hour later, we’re on our way to the police department to meet Detective D’Ambrogio.
As soon as we arrive at the station, we’re escorted back to his desk. He stands when he sees us, greeting us with a sympathetic smile and a handshake. He’s not a tall man, standing a little taller than me, but shorter than Sage. I can tell beneath the black pants, the collared shirt and loose tie is a well-maintained body that makes him confident; and I imagine there are women who find him easy on the eyes. Yet despite all of that, and the kindness he bestows upon us, I wish to be out of his presence as soon as possible, a fact I think he picks up on. We’re back in our rental and following him to the morgue in no time.
When we arrive, Sage turns off the car, but I don’t get out right away. I close my eyes and try to mentally prepare for what I’m about to see, but it’s no use. I know that it’s going to be the kind of awful that I can’t even imagine.
“Millie?” Sage murmurs, reaching over to take my hand.
“Let’s go,” I whisper, giving his fingers a squeeze before I let go and step out of the car.
Detective D’Ambrogio signs in at the front desk, and then we’re escorted to the back. I reach for Sage’s hand as the attendant locates the right drawer that my mother has been stowed into for the last few days. When he locates the right one and pulls it out, I grip Sage’s hand with all my might.
Then, there she is, Natalya Valentine, my cold, dead mother.
As if something has come over me, I step away from Sage and closer to her body. When I look down at her face, I notice that in death…she’s actually quite beautiful. Her face is relaxed, void of the bitterness, the sadness, and the anger that marred her features for as long as I can remember. Staring down at her, I feel devastated—devastated that her life was taken from her the way that it was. No one should be taken from this world as an innocent victim to a meaningless crime. Yet, even amidst my grief, as I look upon her, I acknowledge the fact that I do not love this woman. I haven’t for a long time. And I know, wherever she is, she doesn’t miss me because she didn’t love me, either. It’s an incredibly sad reality—but here it is, sitting right in front of me.
Knowing that this moment is our only goodbye, I simply hope that she’s somehow found peace in death.
“Miss Valentine?” the detective speaks, breaking the silence and pulling me from my thoughts.
I step away from the body, colliding into Sage. He wraps his arms around me, and in his strong hold, I realize that I’m trembling again.
“That’s her,” I tell him. “There won’t be a funeral. No one would come. I’ll arrange for cremation if you’re ready to release the body.” The words fall right out of my mouth, my desire for order suddenly kicking into high gear. “Can we go now?”
“Uh—yeah,” he mumbles, clearly caught off guard by my response.
“If you need anything else, we’re in town until Friday.” When I finish speaking, I turn in Sage’s arms and look up into his gorgeous blue eyes—full of life, clouded with concern, but screaming of love. “Get me out of here,” I whisper.
He nods once and then escorts me out.
A LOT HAS CHANGED around my hometown in the eight years that I’ve been away, but my mother’s small apartment is exactly as I remember it—only messier. Without me around, there was no one to organize her chaos.
After we left the morgue, Sage and I stopped at the store to pick up a bunch of packing supplies, and we spend most of the afternoon tossing out the garbage and boxing up anything worth donating. There’s not a single thing in the place that I want to keep, so I tell Sage to use his own judgement. He tackles the kitchen and I get through the mess that was her office—my old room. By the time evening hits, there are three garbage bags lined up beside the door and four boxes stacked neatly against the wall in the living room. After Sage takes out the trash, he insists we stop for the night and grab something to eat. I don’t argue.
Later that night, when we’re back at the hotel, my exhaustion hits all at once. I’ve never been as tired as I have felt the last couple of days, and I wonder when I’ll feel truly rested again. I don’t imagine it’ll happen so long as I’m here. Colorado is where my life is. If I never have to come back to Steelmantown again, it’ll be too soon.
“Hey, can we talk?” asks Sage as I rummage through my bag for my night clothes.
I look at him, surprised by his request, and he stands beside me, running a hand across my lower back. “Is everything okay?”
“I was going to ask you that. You’ve been all business since we left the morgue.”
“Yeah,” I admit, directing my focus back to my bag. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be here. There’s a lot of shit that needs to get done, and we have to be finished by tomorrow.”
“Doll face, I hate to state the obvious, but you saw your mom’s de
ad body this morning. You’ve cried a lot the last couple days, but today—nothing.”
I offer him a shrug, too tired to even truly process what his observation could even mean. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He sighs, sitting on the bed beside my bag. “I don’t either, baby doll.”
I look over at him as he pushes his glasses up his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. My shoulders sag in guilt when I realize how exhausted he looks too. He’s been by my side, just as he promised he would be, looking after me and helping me. He’s been amazing. He is so much fucking more than the arrogant little shit that I thought he was when we first met. He doesn’t back down from life, but puffs out his chest when it throws a challenge his way, determined to face it head on. He’s not afraid, my dream chaser, and his bravery has been my comfort. His support has kept me sane. I have no idea how I would have handled any of this without him.
I let go of my clothes and push my bag aside, sitting next to him, my shoulder grazing his. I can feel it when he turns his gaze on me, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I try letting go of my to-do list in order to allow everything else that lies beneath it to come out.
“I hated her,” I confess what I’ve told him before, drawing in a deep breath before I continue. “She was a horrible mother. I know there are far worse, that there are people out there who would give anything for a mother like mine—but I wouldn’t wish her on anyone. And at the same time, I know she didn’t deserve to die like this. I didn’t love her; I didn’t miss her—but I never wanted her dead.
“It’s scary. It’s scary to think that the only person in the whole world who has known you your whole life—the one family member tied to you by blood that you know—it’s scary to realize that they’re gone. That it’s only you. And I know I’m not alone…but she was my mother. Then today, I don’t know. Today was our goodbye. She didn’t leave me anything to hang onto. She didn’t leave me anything to miss. We let go of each other in so many ways so long ago. The woman I saw today…”
