Page 154 of Steamy Ever After

“Hey.”

His clothes were too pressed and his hair too styled. She didn’t recognize the mask he so carefully donned so she found no sudden comfort in his presence.

He pulled a chair back from the table and sat across from her, folding his hands on the worn surface. Then she saw his fingernails and smiled. His hands were familiar. He’d always chewed his nails down to the quick. Maybe it was an anxious tick or just a habit he couldn’t break, but it pleased her to see he was still doing it. Those were her brother’s hands.

Distance had made them this way. Their only common ground was a man and a home Harrison spent his life ignoring. He ran much like Erin had dreamed of running, but she didn’t have his courage and whenever she tried to leave, something always brought her back.

As they sat in silence, staring at the surface of the table much like she had for the past several hours, she worried about the expenses ahead.

“I don’t know if Daddy had a will. I have no idea what everything’s going to cost,” she said, her eyes focused on a grain of salt.

“I’ll take care of it.” His voice was gruff and without emotion. “They can just throw him in the incinerator for all I fucking care.”

Her heart jerked. Harrison had a different way of handling things. He ran away and buried the parts of his life he didn’t want to face. She could never do that. She could never give up the hope that if she tried a little harder she might one day gain his approval and he’d stop hurting her.

No matter how mean he was or how cruel he treated her, she subconsciously found herself doing things for him. Maybe that was what victims of abuse were supposed to do. Maybe that was how it worked. No matter how much she hated him, the thought of his praise or approval could motivate her more than anything else. And not once had she succeeded in earning a “good job” or “I’m proud of you” from the miserable bastard.

Not once did he look at her and simply smile. Never, in all of her life, had he told her she was doing okay or that he loved her.

That would never happen now.

She’d wasted her entire life chasing something that never came, something that would never come. She was a fool.

“He wouldn’t want to be cremated,” she said. “He was Catholic.”

Her brother scoffed. “Some fine fucking Christian he was. Yeah, he was a real saint.”

Her insides churned. She was powerless. If she didn’t have the money to bury him and her brother refused, she had no choice but to accept his decision.

“Please, Harrison. He needs a funeral. If you can’t do it for him, do it for me.” She didn’t know why she needed this. “The people…they’ll…they’ll want to say goodbye.”

She feared, without a funeral, condolences would have no end. This was her home, her town. She didn’t want to get stopped on the street to hear what a great guy Ward Montgomery was. Let them have their day to mourn, say whatever they had to say, and put him and his memory to rest. She just wanted closure.

“Fuck the people. Where the hell were they when we were gettin’ hit? They knew and they did nothing.”

Her eyes blurred. “They didn’t know. We covered for him.”

His jaw locked, but he didn’t deny it. Maybe he told himself lies enough times that the narrative had changed and he painted himself unaccountable so he could sleep at night. But she remembered how it really was. Harrison had the courage to run, but he never had the courage to come clean. So he ran somewhere their dad wouldn’t go, somewhere no one gave a shit about Ward Montgomery.

“It’s all bullshit,” he growled. “They didn’t know him. They didn’t give a shit about us or who he really was. This is just one more lie we’re telling for him.”

“You’re going to leave again, but I have to stay here.”

“No one’s keeping you here, Erin.”

He knew it wasn’t that simple. “The store?—”

“Fuck that store. I’d burn that just as quickly as I’d burn him.” He shoved back from the table and stood. “I’m staying at the Brick Hotel in town. Call me if you need anything.” He paused when he spotted the crumb cake on the counter, his scowl burning into the crumbled topping as he seethed with unspoken fury.

He never even took off his coat. Pausing at the kitchen entrance, he looked back and said, “I’ll pay for the casket and I’ll pay for the grave so we can bury him once and for all, but I’m not paying for a service or a stone. He already left his imprint. I’ll be damned if I contribute to one more lie about the kind of man he was.”

CHAPTER 11

“And now we ask friends and family to say their final goodbyes, placing a flower with Ward as we lay him to rest. Erin?”

She stared at the priest she hired for the service. Her gloved fingers clutched the single yellow rose he’d given her when they arrived at the cemetery after the church mass. Harrison stood by her side, but he refused to accept a rose or act as a pallbearer. He said he’d pay to have him hauled away and hadn’t said much since.

As others watched her expectantly, grateful for the shelter of her sunglasses, she stepped forward. A muddy path had been cleared out of the snow leaving a cramped area for the mourners to stand.

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