The UN Series Complete Box Set

by Shantel Tessier

  I never understood how my mother could go from being so caring and nice to treating me like I didn’t exist. I guess now I have a few ideas about why she treated me that way. She wanted to push me away, and I’m sure it killed her just as much as it did me.

  I frown as I think of all the fun Tate and I once had. How could he do what he did? How could he keep such a major secret from me knowing the pain it would eventually cause?

  I quiet my rambling thoughts as we pull into the parking lot of the funeral home and get out of the car.

  “Hello, Miss Hall,” Shirley greets us as we walk in. “Follow me.”

  She leads us down the hallway and through a set of double doors.

  “Take all the time you need dear,” Shirley says politely before she leaves us alone.

  The tears start to form before I can even take my next breath. I walk up to my mother’s body with sweaty palms and trembling legs as tears roll down my face. I feel a heaviness in my chest when my eyes lock on her. She looks nothing like my mother, she looks lifeless and cold. The good memories of her flood my mind. When I wasn’t in trouble, she was so much fun. We would play games and laugh, she would let me have sleepovers, and she would spend most of her time baking cookies for me and all my friends.

  I don’t hold back the sob that comes from my throat. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, “so sorry I wasn’t there for you. That I was so selfish. I’m sorry for thinking that you didn’t love me.”

  I feel a soft hand on my back and turn to see Holly, silently crying. I wrap my arms around her as we cry together.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam,” she croaks out, gripping me tighter.

  I just nod my head because I can’t speak right now. What have I done? How could I have thought my mother didn’t want me? She must have been so scared. She must have thought I was the most horrible person on earth. How could a daughter abandon her mother? How could I have said the things that I did and then run away? I have always run from things that frighten me. I don’t know why. Growing up, I was loved as a child. I mean, yeah, my parents were divorced but so what? I’m not the only child to come from a divorced home. They both loved me very much and were both affectionate toward me. I just changed when my father died. I guess my mom had, too, just for a different reason. I had lost my father. She had lost the only man she would ever truly love and she knew she was losing her life as well. She knew that their only daughter was going to be left alone to face the world. And so that’s exactly what I’m going to do, I’m going to be the daughter that they raised. I don’t want them to be ashamed of me. For all the wrong things I have done, I’m going to face them with everything I have.

  “Thank you,” I say as I pull away. I turn back around one last time to my mother. “I love you,” I whisper as I bend over and place a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I will always love you, Momma.” Then I turn around and walk out of the funeral home with my best friend by my side.

  My newfound strength starts to fade with every passing mile on the way back to the house. I could never be someone that they could be proud of. I am a selfish person who did not deserve to be their daughter. After Holly pulls into the driveway, I get out of the car, and walk in the house.

  “Where have you been?” Slade demands as he stands up from the couch. I had left my cell in my purse on silent. I figured he knew where I had gone since I was with Holly. Guess I was wrong.

  “I went to view my mother,” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry, Angel,” he says as he inches towards me.

  I raise my hand to stop him. “I just need some time alone.”

  He stops a few feet away from me and nods his head. I walk past everyone as the tears start to fall once again. I don’t want to be around anyone. Sometimes a girl just needs to be left with her thoughts, no matter how terrifying they might be.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SLADE

  “Is she going to be okay?” I ask as I walk back over to the couch and sit down.

  “Yeah.”

  I look up at Holly. Her voice had cracked and I couldn’t help but stare at her.

  She shakes her head as Micah scoots closer to her and gently wraps her up in his arms. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “It was horrible,” she cries. “She was so heartbroken, and the stuff she said to her mother.” Her shoulders shake as she places her head in her hands. “I can’t imagine what she is going through.”

  Micah leans back against the couch as he pulls her close to him and kisses her hair. He looks up at me and exhales a sigh.

  If she is this upset, I know Angel is probably up there having a panic attack. I jump off the couch and run up the stairs, taking two at a time.

  I hate that I let her push me away. I just don’t know when to let her be and when to reassure her that I’m there for her.

  I lean up against her door and listen. I don’t hear anything, so I open it slowly. Searching the room, I don’t see her, but then I hear soft cries coming from the bathroom.

  I open the door and walk in. My heart drops when I see her soaking in the bathtub with her knees to her chest, her head resting atop them.

  I pull my shirt over my head roughly and strip off my shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers. This is one of those times that I need her in my arms. I need to comfort her and try to help her.

  I step in the hot bath behind her and slowly lower myself into it, gritting my teeth. Fuck, the water is so hot. I don’t know how she can stand it.

  “Angel.” She hasn’t even looked up, just continues to cry into her knees.

  I run my hands up her back and over her shoulders. I pull her back to my front. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here for you.” I wrap my arms around her as she tries to quiet her sobs.

  She tenses and attempts to pull away from me.

  I squeeze tighter. “You shouldn’t be alone,” I say softly. I don’t want to make it worse, but it can’t be good for her to be by herself either. Last time she was alone she destroyed a room and had a breakdown. If that’s what she needs to do, that’s fine with me, I just want her to know she can do it in front of me.

  Her body lightly shakes. “Let it out, Angel,” I whisper.

  She reaches up and shoves my arms away. She stands and water splashes out of the bathtub and onto the floor. She turns to me, sniffling, and I hold in a sigh as I see tears run down her face.

  “I want to be alone. Why can’t you understand that?” she cries.

  I stand up and grab a hold of her arms. “I’m not going to let you go. I’m not going to let you keep things bottled up inside. It’s not good for you!”

  “You can’t fix it, Slade.” She raises her voice. “It’s over, she’s dead,” she sobs out.

  “Talk to me,” I plead, reaching up and brushing away the tears streaming down her face. “Please, Angel. Let me be here for you.”

  She crashes her body into mine as her arms wrap around me. “I don’t know what to say,” she replies honestly. “One minute I feel great and want to live the way they wanted me to. Then the next I—” Her sobbing restarts, cutting off her words.

  I run my hand down her smooth back, and bend down to kiss her hair. I know that was a huge step for her just to admit that much. I won’t push her anymore. “Come on, let’s sit back down.”

  She allows me to guide us back down into the tub. Once situated, I reach over and grab her soap. I lather up my hands before I start to run them over her back and shoulders.

  “I’m trying,” she says quietly.

  I stay silent as I continue to rub her back. I don’t want to say anything that will stop her from telling me how she feels.

  She pulls away and angles her body so she can face me. “I want you to stop asking me about my feelings, Slade. I honestly don’t know what I’m feeling. It can change within minutes. I know I’m a tad crazy right now and that’s why I wanted to be alone.”

  “Angel, you’re not crazy.”

  “I feel like I’m going crazy.” She looks down, running her hand through
the bath water. “And I don’t want you to see me this way. I don’t want you to think differently of me,” she whispers.

  “There is nothing you could do to make me see you any differently,” I say, gently placing my hand on her back.

  She keeps her head down and nods before she turns around and leans back against my chest. I know she thinks I’m lying. And she can think that all she wants. I know how I feel about her and, once again, I’ll just have to show her.

  *****

  SAMANTHA

  I stand in my old closet, looking at the black lace dress that hangs at the very back all by itself. It haunts me.

  The ironic thing is that my dad bought it for me. I can’t even remember why I wanted it. I didn’t go on dates and this dress was one to be worn to a fancy restaurant.

  He got it for me during my sophomore year. He had taken me and Courtney shopping at the mall. She had spotted it and thought it would look great on me. I tried it on because it was very beautiful. Once I stepped out of the dressing room, Courtney started telling me how pretty it looked. My dad insisted on buying it for me. I told him that I didn’t have anywhere to wear it, and he informed me that I would someday.

  The even more ironic part; he was right. I ended up wearing it for his funeral. My father’s funeral was different. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, he was unrecognizable from his accident. He died instantly due to the head trauma, and his spinal cord had been severed. Even though they were divorced, my mother was listed as his next of kin. My mom had seen him but didn’t feel that I should. I took her advice and stayed in my room, bawling my eyes out. I now know why she reacted the way she did when he passed. I should have seen the signs. She was gone a lot. She must have been going to doctors’ appointments all that time.

  We didn’t have a memorial service for him. Mom just had him cremated. All of his workers had stopped by the house to bring us things and offer their condolences. That was about it.

  I approach the garment and take it off its hanger, knowing that I’m going to wear this dress for the second time in my life. However, one thing I’m certain of is that it will be the last time. I slip it on over my black lace bra and panties.

  I walk out of my closet and look at myself in the full-length mirror. It may be a tad inappropriate for a funeral, but it just feels right. It’s a black, silk dress with a high, scoop neckline. It’s fitted, and the length hits about mid-thigh. It has a black lace overlay and lace three-quarter length sleeves.

  I brace myself on the edge of the bed and slide on a pair of red high-heels. I sit there and take in a few deep breaths. I turn to look at the bed as Slade begins to stir. He must be exhausted because he never sleeps in at home. He is always having to get up so early for work.

  He mumbles a few things that I can’t quite understand as he pulls the covers up over his head, making me smile. I remember us in the bath last night and frown. He washed me from head to toe. Once again, I wanted to beg him to take me, make me feel something other than my loss, but I was not in the mood to be turned down. He didn’t spend any extra time on my breasts or touch me as if he were desperate to have me. So I knew he did not want me sexually and I hate that it made me feel even more alone.

  I stand up and walk to the bathroom, needing to do something with my hair. Ten minutes later, I give up on trying to do anything fancy with it. I just pull my bangs up and pin them back, before taking out the curling iron and fixing the rest into loose curls.

  I add some makeup, which I keep very light, just some foundation, powder, and mascara, finishing it off with some nude lip-gloss. Then I head downstairs, I need to start cooking.

  I don’t know how many friends my mother had or how many are going to show up. But I want them to have something to eat.

  Just as I put some cookies in the oven, Holly enters the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

  I look up at her and smile. “Yes, thank you.”

  I help her get the ingredients ready to make lasagna and French bread. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to offer at funerals, but I have to do something.

  We have our backs turned as we wash our hands in the sink, and I hear hushed voices. I turn off the water and we turn around to see Slade and Micah both filling up the kitchen entryway. Slade is wearing a pair of gray sweatpants with a black wife beater and it makes me smile.

  He walks over to me and wraps me in his arms. He looks down at me as he pushes a piece of hair away from my face. His eyes search mine and he seems apprehensive about something.

  “Are you okay?”

  He gives me a sad smile, shaking his head. “I’m fine, Angel.” He sighs. “It’s just—”

  The doorbell ringing interrupts him. “One second,” I say as I move to answer the door.

  “Delivery for Miss Hall,” a man says, standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

  “Please come in.” I step aside for him to enter. Yesterday I had ordered five bouquets of pink lilies. They were my mom’s favorite. She bought herself flowers every Sunday and set them on the kitchen table.

  I lead him into the living room and start pushing the couch out of the way.

  “Angel,” Slade admonishes as he enters the room, “let Micah and I do that.” He takes my hand from the back of the couch. “What are you wanting to move and where do you want it?” he asks softly.

  “I just want them moved back a bit.”

  I bend over and start dragging the coffee table.

  “Stop, Angel.” Slade puts his hands on my arms. “We will do it okay?”

  I take in a deep breath, I know he’s trying to be nice, but I’m perfectly capable of doing shit.

  “I want it over there by the fireplace,” I call out, heading back into the kitchen, where I finish preparing the food with Holly.

  Around noon, the funeral home shows up and I let Slade handle it. I stay in the kitchen. I don’t know how I’m going to feel once I see the urn. I just keep telling myself to stay busy. Maybe if I stay preoccupied the day will fly by and I won’t have to endure any more.

  It’s not much longer before people begin filtering into the house. I hear Slade greeting them and directing them to the living room. I just don’t want to face them. I’m afraid of what they might think of me. I know this isn’t about me, but I’m afraid they will know how horrible I was.

  That they will ask questions like:

  “Where the hell were you?”

  “How come we never saw you?”

  “Why weren’t you there for her?”

  Those are all questions that I don’t have answers for. I hear the doorbell ring once again, as I pull the cookies out of the oven, and then I hear Slade’s voice.

  “You need to leave.”

  The way he growled that has me rushing out of the kitchen and to the front door.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” I hear a man say.

  Slade lets out a little laugh like he would gladly take on the guy. “Then fucking leave.”

  I come to the hallway and look toward the door. I can’t see much because Slade is standing in the doorway taking up all the space.

  “Slade?” I question nervously.

  “No need to worry, Angel,” he answers, keeping his back to me.

  I come up behind him and push my way past him to see Tate standing outside with his hands in his pockets.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  His eyes look me up and down, and he seems to be considering what to say as he rocks back on his heels. “I saw the obituary in the paper,” he states sadly.

  I release a sigh, not wanting to be a bitch and turn him away. My mom had done a lot for him, practically raised him. I don’t have the right to tell him he can’t say goodbye.

  “I told you to leave,” Slade demands.

  I begin to speak but Tate beats me to it. “I will only leave if Sam tells me to,” he growls back at Slade.

  I place my hands up, not wanting a pissing match on the front porch. “Let him in.” I start to turn ar
ound but Slade places a hand on my arm, stopping me.

  “You don’t have to do this, Angel,” he says softly, and then he looks over at Tate with hard eyes, mouth set in a tight line.

  I glance back to Tate as well, and he appears as if he hasn’t slept in several days. He has bags under his handsome blue eyes and the hair on his face is more untamed. I turn to Slade. “Everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye to someone they loved.” Locking eyes with Tate, I continue to speak to Slade. “My mom loved him like a son. I know he loved her as well.” Then I turn and walk back into the house.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SLADE

  I run a hand through my hair. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I look up at Tate. Loved him like a son? What the hell did that mean? I thought they hadn’t seen him in a long time?

  “You can come in, but leave her the fuck alone,” I growl. “This is already a tough enough day as it is. She doesn’t need someone to make it worse.” I stalk off, leaving the front door wide open for him.

  “Angel, you didn’t—” I say, walking into the kitchen.

  She spins around to face me. “I said he could come in,” she snaps. “So if you shut the door in his face, you better go open it.” She slams her hands down on the kitchen counter.

  I ignore her outburst and approach her. Taking her in my arms, I smooth her hair down her back. “I let him in,” I assure her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She pulls away and sighs. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  “No apology is necessary.”

  Just then, I look up to see a man entering the kitchen holding a pie, offering a sad smile when he sees Angel. “Hey Sam, I wanted to bring by your favorite.”