by L. A. Casey
He looked down at the jeans, then back up to my eyes. “Yes, but you’re far too young for them.”
I felt my jaw drop open. “Kale, come on.”
He shook his head. “I’m serious. You’re only fifteen—”
“Sixteen in two months,” I growled, cutting him off.
“And I’m nineteen next month. If I notice you in them, so will other lads my age. I don’t like that. I don’t want you getting attention from lads in that sort of way. It’s not right.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
Kale opened his mouth, then closed it after a moment. “I don’t . . . I don’t know why exactly. I guess I feel protective of you. I just know I’d lose my head if I caught some lad staring at you for too long, Lane. I know what goes through a lad’s mind, and I don’t want you to be the centre of it. You’re fifteen.”
I knew how old I was, and it bugged the hell out of me.
“You’re going to have to accept that I’m getting older, and I’ll start dating soon.”
Although I had no idea if I’d ever start dating because I needed boys to be interested in me for that to happen.
“I’ll accept it when you’re fifty.” Kale grinned.
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re worse than Lochlan.”
He snorted and turned around while I took my jeans off and placed them in the “yes” pile. I tried on a few pairs of different-coloured leggings with long T-shirts then, and I didn’t need Kale’s opinion on them. They were cute, casual and something everyone could pull off, no matter their size.
I stepped into a sky-blue sundress that buttoned up in the back. I shimmied it up to my chest and slid my arms into the armholes, holding it against my chest so it wouldn’t fall down.
“Can you turn and button this up?” I asked Kale.
I watched as he turned around and glanced at my back like it was a foreign object. He stepped forward and began to button up the dress. He paused a few times when his fingertips brushed against my skin, but eventually he buttoned it up the entire way. Though it looked like he broke a sweat doing it.
I did a little twirl in the dress and beamed. “I love it.”
And that was the truth. Without looking for the faults that I was sure I would find, I took the dress at face value, and I thought I looked a little pretty in it.
“Me too,” Kale murmured.
I squealed with happiness at his agreement.
“Really? You aren’t just saying that because you’re my friend?”
“No,” Kale stated. “I’m definitely not saying it just because I’m your friend. Trust me.”
I lifted my hand for a high five, which Kale delivered half-heartedly.
I frowned. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Everything is great. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re being weird?”
“Weird?” he questioned, and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not being weird – you are. How am I being weird?”
Yep, he is definitely being weird.
I shook my head and laughed. “What is going on with you today?”
“I have no bloody idea,” he grumbled, and scrubbed his face with his hands. “My stomach is hurting. Might be hunger pangs.”
I instantly felt bad for keeping him out so long without feeding him.
“I’ll finish here and we’ll go get food, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Ten minutes later we were in the queue to pay for my clothes, and just as we got to the till, I realised my jeans weren’t in Kale’s hands. “My jeans,” I murmured, and ruffled through the pile of clothes in Kale’s arms.
I looked at Kale but found he wouldn’t directly look at me.
I set my jaw. “Where did you put them?”
He groaned. “I don’t want you to buy them.”
I could have whacked him around the head.
I glared at him. “You’re unbelievable, Kale Hunt.”
I didn’t bother to look for them because I knew he would have hidden them. Instead, I walked to the rack I’d found the jeans on, got another size twelve and walked back to where Kale was waiting at the till.
“I didn’t anticipate this part,” he grumbled when he saw the new pair of jeans in my hands.
The man behind the till laughed at our exchange. “Don’t underestimate women, mate. They’ll surprise you at every turn,” – he glanced at me – “no matter what their age.”
I looked back to Kale and found he kept his eyes on me as he said, “I’m beginning to believe that.”
I felt smug as I put my jeans on the counter and watched the man scan the price tag. I cleared my throat and glanced at the clothes in Kale’s arms, causing him to sigh and drop them onto the counter. He stood back and folded his arms across his chest as he watched the man behind the till scan and bag each item of clothing.
When we were finished in River Island, we went to McDonald’s, and Kale didn’t speak to me until we were sitting down and he was halfway through eating his food. I was starving, but I didn’t want to eat fast food. I wanted to eat healthy food to help me not gain any more weight.
I made a mental note to talk to my mother about it when I was home.
“Who do you like?” he randomly asked me.
I nearly choked as I swallowed some water Kale had got me.
“What?” I rasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Who do you fancy?” he clarified.
I stared at him for a moment and then said, “No one – why?”
He raised his eyebrows. “There isn’t a single lad in school you fancy?”
Well, my heart sang, there is you.
I scratched my neck and said, “Nope.”
“I don’t believe you,” he dead-panned.
I frowned and played with my fingers. “Why not?”
“Because you won’t look at me when you answer the question, and you’re playing with your fingers. You do both when you’re lying.”
I clasped my hands together.
“Can we not talk about this?” I asked.
“Fine,” Kale quipped.
Great: he was mad.
I tilted my head as I looked at him. “Why do you care if I fancy a lad?”
“I don’t,” he retorted.
Bullshit.
“Then why ask?” I pressed.
He shrugged. “Just starting a conversation to kill the silence.”
He was lying.
“Since when have you ever started a conversation like this one?” I questioned.
Kale dipped his burger in sauce. “Never, which is why I brought it up. I mean you do like boys, don’t you?”
“What do you mean? Omigod!” I gasped when I got his meaning. “I’m not gay.”
He bit into his burger and said with a mouth full of food, “It’d be cool if you were – I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
My stomach churned.
“I know there isn’t, but I’m not gay. To be honest, I’m fairly bloody pissed off you assume I’m gay just because I say I don’t fancy a lad in school.”
I stood up from my chair, grabbed my many shopping bags and stormed out of McDonald’s.
“Lane!” Kale shouted. “Shit. Wait. I’m sorry.”
He thought I was gay? God, this was mortifying. The person who I was in love with thought I batted for the other team. It was so embarrassing and completely hurtful. Not to mention utterly devastating for my already shot self-esteem.
Kale caught me outside of McDonald’s and jumped in front of me, his hands raised. It was then that I noticed he had his half-eaten burger in one hand and his tub of chips in the other. He’d brought his food with him?
“You’re such a pig,” I commented.
“Your mum paid for this – I’m not letting it go to waste,” he frowned.
He said this with such a serious face that it made me laugh.
“There is something wrong with you,” I said with a sha
ke of my head.
He locked his eyes with mine. “Yeah – you.”
I grinned. “You love me.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s the only reason I put up with you.”
I sighed. “You’re such a pain in my arse.”
“Your squatted arse?” he asked, grinning.
I didn’t reply to him, so he said, “You forgive me, right?”
I sighed. “Have you ever known me to stay mad at you for long?”
“No,” he proudly announced. “It’s my superpower – that and being incredibly good-looking.”
I flushed and playfully swatted at his arm, making him grin. I had a small smile on my face as we turned and got lost in the crowd heading back towards the clothing shops, because I had more money to spend. I hated that deep down I knew no amount of money could change how I now felt about my body and overall appearance.
Anna and Ally’s words were drilled into my brain, and they couldn’t be forgotten. Kale could only distract me from reality for so long, but I’d make damn sure the time with him wouldn’t be wasted.
CHAPTER NINE
Day two in York
It was time.
I pressed my forehead against the oak door of my old bedroom, praying time would somehow reverse and give me a few more days with my uncle. I wasn’t ready to lower him six feet below the earth and cover him up with dirt. I knew on some level I would never be ready to permanently say goodbye to someone I loved, but I felt like I physically couldn’t do it for my uncle.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. I just couldn’t do it.
“Lane?” I heard a soft voice call out from the other side of my bedroom door, gaining my attention.
I blinked and realised it was my grandmother.
“I can’t do it, Nanny.”
I stepped back when the handle of the door wiggled until it pressed down fully, and my door opened. My grandmother stood in my doorway, wearing a stylish black trouser suit. She had crumpled up a tissue in her hands, and her eyes were red-raw and bloodshot from crying.
“Baby,” she sniffled, “ye can do this.”
My eyes welled with tears. “I’m not ready.”
She smiled at me, tears falling onto her lined cheeks. “We’ll never be ready, sweetie, but death waits for no one.”
I nodded and sniffled as tears fell from my eyes and splashed on my cheeks and dress. I looked down at my black dress, momentarily admiring the black lace sleeves. My mother had gone out and got me the dress, tights and shoes I wore because I had nothing in my suitcase that was appropriate attire for a funeral.
When I’d read Lochlan’s note, I’d just thrown in my suitcase the first items of clothing I thought of from my apartment back in New York. Something to wear for the funeral never entered my mind. At the time it didn’t feel real. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact; I was trying to come to terms with it. It still didn’t feel real, and I didn’t think it ever would.
I would always be expecting the usual phone call, Skype call and daily email from him, and I was sure my heart would break each time I realised they would never come.
“You’re the last person ta say goodbye to ’im, baby,” my nanny whispered, pulling me from my thoughts and back to my haunting reality. “The hearse will be here soon ta close the coffin and take ’im ta the church for the funeral mass. I want ye ta have some time with ’im first.”
I nodded once more, my heart thumping inside my chest as my stomach churned.
My nanny led me out of my room and down the stairs. I heard numerous voices as I descended the stairs. Then I saw a crowd of people inside the house and another crowd outside in the garden through the open front door. Everyone quietened down when I reached the bottom stair, but I avoided looking at anyone’s face. I didn’t want to speak to anybody. I just wanted to be with my uncle, and my nanny sensed that. She ushered me into the parlour; gave me a long, warm hug; glanced at the coffin one final time; and then turned and left the room.
When the door to the parlour closed behind me, and I was left alone with my uncle, the silence in the room was deafening. On trembling legs, I walked up to the side of my uncle’s coffin, and I lifted my gaze. Through blurred eyes, I scanned over every inch of his handsome face, making sure I would never forget it. I placed my shaky hands on top of my uncle’s cold ones.
“This really is the worst day of my life,” I said to him, remembering what I’d said to him last night. “I thought the day I left here was soul-crushing, but putting you to rest is killing me.”
I didn’t know why, but like before I was expecting my uncle to reply to me and assure me that everything would be okay, but when silence answered me, it made his death feel more real. How stupid was that? I was standing right next to his deceased body, and only when he didn’t answer me back did it make him being dead feel real.
“I’m not . . . I’m not ready to let you go,” I whispered.
I broke down into audible sobs when I heard a car pull up outside our house. I glanced at the window, and through the netted curtain I saw the hearse. It would take my uncle from my parents’ house and bring him to the church for the funeral mass, then on to his final resting place in the cemetery.
I began to panic. I was out of time.
“I love you with all of my heart. You have b-been the best uncle and fr-friend any girl could have ever asked for. I want you to kn-know that I’ve always adored you, and I’m so sorry f-for leaving you. I’m sorry, Uncle Harry. Please forgive me.”
I leaned over the coffin and placed my head on his hard, cold chest as sobs racked through my body. I hated that my cries rose to a point where it caused my mother, grandmother and family friends to break down outside of the parlour. I didn’t mean to upset them any more than they already were, but I couldn’t control the emotion that surged through me. I didn’t know how long I cried on my uncle’s chest, but when I felt hands on my hips, I lost it altogether.
“No!” I cried, and I stood upright over my uncle. “I n-need a few more m-minutes.”
I felt a forehead press against the back of my head, and the hands on my arms gripped me tightly.
“Come on, Laney Baby.”
Kale.
“I can’t, Kale,” I whimpered. “I can’t leave him. I c-can’t do it.”
I couldn’t even let my mind settle on the fact that Kale was touching me; I was too distraught over saying my final goodbye to my dear uncle. I looked to the parlour door when it opened, and men dressed in black suits entered.
The footmen.
“Kale, please,” I wailed, and turned in his arms. “Don’t let them t-take him, please.”
I looked up at Kale, and through blurred eyes I saw his bloodshot whisky-coloured eyes staring down at me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Please,” I wailed. “I can’t be w-without him. Pl-please.”
Kale squeezed his eyes shut, the anguish he felt written all over his face.
“Who will be present for the final closing?” a male voice murmured.
“I will,” my father’s voice replied.
I turned and gazed upon my uncle once more and whispered, “Goodbye, Uncle Harry.”
I knew I was supposed to leave then, but I couldn’t work my legs, which were frozen in place. I didn’t care because I didn’t want to leave anyway, but this wasn’t about what I wanted. This was about my uncle and him receiving the best send-off possible. Yet, even though I knew all of that, I still couldn’t bring myself to leave the room.
Kale knew this too, because without warning, my feet were lifted off the ground, and for a moment I fought against him as he lifted me from the room, but once we were outside in the hallway, I latched onto him and cried until there wasn’t a single tear left in my body. He mutely held me the entire time, kissed my head and swayed us from side to side until my sobs became mere sniffles.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling awful for using him as my shoulder to lean on when I had no right to ask that
of him. I had no right to ask anything of him.
He squeezed me. “I’m here for you, Lane. Always.”
More tears came then, and regret wrapped around my sadness and thrust me further into misery. I wished more than anything that I could have been here for him when he needed me like he was here for me now, but that was the difference between myself and Kale.
He was selfless, and I was selfish.
“It’s time, sweetheart,” he murmured.
I mutely turned and headed out front, where I found the garden, as well as the road and pathways, was full of people. That made me cry harder. My brothers found Kale and me, and both of them hugged me when they saw what a state I was in. We moved over to my grandmother, mother and father, who was no longer with my uncle, and that meant his coffin had been closed for the very last time.
I held Kale’s hand and squeezed it as my uncle’s coffin was removed from my parents’ house and loaded into the back of the hearse. My family and Kale all got into the black family car that drove behind the hearse. I sat next to Kale, which wasn’t surprising considering I hadn’t let go of his hand since he’d offered it to me.
I leaned my head on his shoulder as we rode to the church for the funeral mass. The journey to the church was quicker than I would have liked. When we got out of the car, Kale let go of me so he, my brothers and father could join the footmen to carry my uncle’s coffin into the church.
I took hold of my grandmother’s and mother’s hands, and we cried together as we slowly walked behind the coffin into the church. I watched as the coffin was lowered from the men’s shoulders onto a stand that sat at the front of the altar, along with multiple bunches of flowers, flower nameplates and a beautiful picture of my uncle smiling happily.
I took my seat on the bench at the front of the church and nestled next to my father, then scooted down when Kale sat next to me, put his arm around my shoulder and tucked my body against his. I heard loud murmurs and movement as the priest prepared for the service. Glancing over Kale’s shoulder, I saw a sea of people. I wasn’t surprised to find the church so full. My Uncle Harry had been one of a kind, and the hundreds of people who came to see him off were just a testament of how truly incredible he was.
