Page 102 of Blade

“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you now.” Those words hit me like a freight train. Suddenly I was caught in a memory, lost to what was going on around me.

Twelve years ago

Standing at my grandfather’s graveside, tears ran down my face. I had never been to a funeral before. Never knew someone who had died before. I watched as Grams walked up and placed a flower on the casket.

“Goodbye, my love. Miss me until you see me again,” Grams whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek.

I watched as my mother, who hadn’t shed a tear, walked up and placed her own flower on the casket. She said nothing. Just walked back to her seat like we did when we had to drop our tests off at the teacher’s desk in school.

It was my turn. I couldn’t move. I was numb standing there in the cold. My eyes closed, and suddenly a hand reached over and took mine.

“Come on, Becca.”

Micah Spade, my best friend, walked me over to the casket. Taking the flower from my hand, he placed it on the casket and said to my grandfather,

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ve got her now. I’ll take care of her for you.”

“Micah.” He held me in his arms while I cried.

I wanted to push him away, but also needed him to catch me when I fell.

“I’m here, baby.”

“She’s gone, Micah.”

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve got you now,” he said.

Those four words,I’ve got you now,were like a slap in the face. Because he didn’t have me. He said he would always have me, but he left me.

He lied to me.

He hid from me.

I couldn’t trust him.

“I-I can’t do this.” Pushing away from him, I stood.

Bikers, cops, and paramedics filled the room. The sheriff walked over to me, placing his hand on my arm.

“Miss Washington, I am so sorry for your loss,” he consoled. “The paramedics believe it was a heart attack. They don’t believe she suffered at all.”

I stared at him. There was something about him, in that moment, that had me wrapping my arms around his middle and crying into his chest. He didn’t push me away, he just let me cry. Holding me in his embrace, I heard him talking to Micah and the others.

“Someone needs to stay with her tonight.”

“I will,” Micah volunteered.

“No,” I rasped into the sheriff’s chest.

He pushed me back just enough to see my face. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“No, Micah isn’t staying.”

“Becca, please,” Micah begged.

“NO!” I yelled and burrowed into the sheriff’s chest again.

“Ok, sweetheart, he won’t stay,” he assured me, pulling me close again.

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