Page 46 of Cop-Off

Libby: We’re inside. Front row on the left. I made sure there was a space next to her.

It was time.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cat felt numb. Her only goal was to get through the day, preferably without having a panic attack. Her mum didn’t need to see that. Not today.

Looking to her left, she peered down the aisle at her mother. Libby had sat in-between them, Jack further along at the end. It turned out, her best friend was the jedi master of grief. She already had her arm around Cat’s mum, passing her tissues to swipe away the tears and whispering what she could only assume were comforting words into her ear.

She couldn’t imagine how she would have coped without her. Especially today. The last thing on her mind was how her mother was coping. She was too busy not coping herself. And besides, she still had an important decision to make—what she’d do first when she was finally alone, cry or throw up.

Ignoring the paper shaking in her hand, Cat tried her hardest to focus on her breathing. She began by closing her eyes. Slow, deep inhales and exhales were her priority right now.

Just breathe. You’ll be okay if you just breathe.

Her concentration was broken only moments later as the bench jostled beside her and a warm thigh pressed against her. As soon as bergamot drifted up her nostrils, her eyes flew open and she was twisting in her seat.

All the oxygen inside the church was sucked right out of there. Her heartrate was in the danger zone and her throat was drier than the desert.

“W-What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering her, Cody’s attention went to her hand, where he laced his fingers through hers. Seemingly happy she hadn’t protested; those honey hue eyes met her own. She didn’tknow what scared her most, the determination she saw shining in them or the sadness that had managed to filter through.

“I’ve got you,” he declared, his voice firm, unwavering.

She didn’t reply. There were no words that felt right. She just squeezed his hand, ordering her tears to wait at least five minutes before making an appearance.

The room quieted around them, but it wasn’t until the priest spoke that her eyes broke away from Cody. Her ears weren’t so obedient. Nothing the priest was saying sank in as her gaze travelled to the coffin. It was sitting front and center, partially covered with a bulky white rose arrangement.

Funerals were weird. Putting a body in a wooden box. Carrying it around. Singing and crying at it. And then, of course, burying it in the ground. All in the name of saying goodbye, as if the bizarre ritual would somehow make it easier to cope with never seeing the person you loved smile again. Or hearing his voice. Feeling his hugs.

Fuck.

The tears had broken free. It must have been the singing. She’d faintly recalled everyone standing but she hadn’t followed suit. Cody had remained seated too, his hold on her hand tightening.

A tissue emerged in front of her, but not for her to take. No. Cody was wiping the damp from her cheeks with his free hand before the tissue magically disappeared again. No words, no fuss, just a quick, efficient drying service.

This time when the priest spoke, she heard. He was reciting the words she’d written. The words she never knew had the ability to punch her in the chest, until now.

“He was the king of dad jokes. Even his daughter Catherine never managed to take his crown, not for lack of trying, though. He was always laughing and always happy. Unless you happenedto work for the council, he never had a bad word to say about anyone.”

She felt herself smile. It was a watery smile, mostly because it was tear soaked. He really hated the council. She still remembered the time he called to complain about potholes. He was on the phone with that poor girl for forty-five minutes. How anyone could talk about potholes for almost an hour she had no idea. But her dad had and did.

Her smile faded as quick as it came when she realized her mother was heading toward the podium. She’d tried to talk her mother out of saying a few words, not completely sure she was up for it. But her mum had insisted.

She was the one tightening her grip on Cody now, suddenly feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, pulling her down into the hellmouth.

His lips came to her ear immediately. “Breathe, kitten. Just breathe.” Her body must have complied, because seconds later he was praising her. “There you go. That’s it. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

She was nodding into nothingness, oblivious to the fact that her mother had already begun speaking. When she finally refocused, she felt calmer. Stronger. She even made it through the cat in the washing machine story without leaking.

Once her mother re-joined their bench, a final hymn was sung. This time Cat stood, taking Cody and his abused hand with her. She didn’t sing—her throat muscles wouldn’t let her— but instead she leaned into the man beside her, causing him to release her hand and wrap a big strong arm around her. He was propping her up in more ways than one.

That arm stayed around her. Through the condolences she was peppered with at the end of the service. To the car where they drove to the wake. Up the walkway to the hall she’d rented.And throughout every conversation with strangers sipping on free wine and nibbling on cheese crackers.

She lasted two hours, which was an hour longer than she’d thought she would last this morning. Cody’s arm had no other choice but to drop as Cat moved quickly, pushing her way past Jack and Libby and heading straight to the back door.

She doubled over as soon as she hit the alley. Hands on her knees, sucking in as much oxygen as her lungs could handle. Tears blurring her vision as she tried her hardest to breathe.

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