Page 118 of Where We Ended

He’d go on without being remembered, and years, even decades, would go by with no one to visit him or know who was there.

Alec’s grave, however, had a white headstone, standing nearly three feet tall. I’d never tell Natty that I was the one to pay for it. Because as far as I was concerned, the asshole hurt her and there was no reason to honor him. But my wife was good, and she had forgiven him.

So, it was for her that I made sure he had a nice gravesite.

She’d even gone with me to explain to the Sons of Speed that it was Fable who had killed Alec. When I explained that I was his brother, it eased tension as well.

The entire club my brother was the president of was gathered around his grave as a preacher began going over scriptures about heaven and hell. Men had their heads bowed, and their cuts on. Several had patches made in memory of him. It touched some dead place in my chest with pride that so many people loved him.

It was a testament that he was a good man.

Caelum was wearing black, her hair down in curls of gold as she cried over my brother’s grave. She muttered things while pressing flowers into the fresh dirt. I stood, watching as my wife silently loved my brother, desperately trying to accept that while he may have wanted to win her heart entirely, winning even a fraction was too much for me.

In the end, he won her affection, and that was quite the honor.

Once the preacher was finished, everyone began shifting, tossing roses and leaving bottles of whiskey on his gravestone. Then they slowly began to disperse.

Penelope was off to the side, waiting for Natty. She gave me a quick glance and a smile, then left the cemetery with her friend. They were headed to Penelope’s house to eat and plan Red’s funeral, which would be the next thing we had to endure.

I waited until every person had left and then I sank down to my ass in front of my brother’s headstone, kicked up my leg and opened one of the bottles of whiskey.

“When we were younger, you would always tease me that I was soft on the inside. That I was made up of clouds. Do you remember that?” I took a sip, hating how I was suddenly feeling grief over a brother I had grown to hate.

“But whenever Fable would threaten to cut me open and check, you’d stick up for me. It’s why I took your share of the beatings. You were my little brother, and while we had different women raise us, we had the same sick fuck who tortured us. Natty helped me keep those demons at bay, but you were the only person alive who truly understood them.”

A rogue tear slid down my face.

“I never thanked you for Christmas…while I hate that you got to hold my wife all night. I appreciate you not fucking her or hurting her. I appreciate that you gave her a safe place to go…” More emotion rose, nearly choking me as I tried to continue. “You saved her…she was nearly taken from me, and you stepped in front of that bullet. I know you loved her, Alec. Deep down, you did, and I’m sorry that you had to live a life without knowing she loved you back. In her own way, she did.”

Using my wrist to swipe at my face, I let out a laugh and poured the whiskey out on the grave.

“I hope you find a huntress in the afterlife to love just as much, and one that loves you the way you deserve. Watch over us from time to time, okay.”

I got to my feet and tucked my hands into my pockets as I found my way back to my bike.

Under his name on the headstone, I had paid extra for his beloved tattoo of Artemis to be replicated on the stone. So, for all of time, his love for my wife would be remembered.

THIRTY-THREE

NATTY

PRESENT DAY

The day we buried Red and Brooks was a somber event.

Simon Stone had arrived with Sasha on his arm, wearing his cut, nice dark jeans and his motorcycle boots. He was the first to place his hand on the casket with a wobbly chin and a tear-stained face.

I gripped Red’s black bandana in my hand and squeezed it as hard as I could while my husband gripped my other hand. Silas was a shield for me as grief stabbed at my chest, poking holes of vulnerability and instability.

Callie was quietly sobbing into Wes Ryan’s chest, her belly larger than ever. She wore a black dress, while Wes wore his cut over a black t-shirt. It was going to be weird for me not to see Silas in one anymore.

But I was also excited about that part of our life starting.

He was a farmer now, who catered to lemon trees and picked cherries and apples.

Our little cottage surrounded by trees and vegetation with bunnies, foxes and deer that frequented our little piece of paradise had me feeling strangely like the moniker Alec had always given me.

Artemis.

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