Page 165 of Before Now

“Yes, yes.” He nods, releasing her hand and threading his fingers together in front of him as he walks, expecting us to follow down a side hall. “The kinship laws become so murky in situations like this, but you’re his last connection through the hospital paperwork.”

Remi glances at me out of the corner of her eye, and I squeeze the back of her neck. She didn’t have to accept the piece of shit’s remains, but if she refused, the funeral director said they’d go to the police department.

But my woman isn’t letting Daniel Kane rest in peace.

I fucking love it.

We reach a staircase, and down he goes, but as we reach the bottom, he stops and turns by a closed door. His face dips closer to us, voice lower even though it appears no one else is here. “The entire affair has been odd between you and me. First the estate not having money for a funeral and burial, and then the department held a service, even though I couldn’t release the remains. Then,” he almost whispers, the gossip heating up, “he’d defaulted on the payments to the cemetery, and they reclaimed his plot.”

As he rotates, Remi presses her lips together. The man twists the knob and steps into the room, and her lips turn up as she drags me along by the front of my coat.

At the next door, he indicates for us to wait. He’s only gone for a second before reappearing with a gray plastic box, a sticker on top identifying the contents.

Mr. Stenon hands Remi the box, but I intercept it. She gives me an appreciative look.

“I’m sorry for the box,” the man says with an expression to match the apology. “We don’t have unclaimed remains often, but when we do, I like to provide an urn for dignity’s sake. With you coming, I didn’t order one for the chief.”

“Not at all a problem.” Remi tacks on a smile. “I’m glad you didn’t spend the money.”

Mr. Stenon nods, but when we turn to leave, he stops us. “Uh-uh.” The quirky man holds up a finger before stepping back into the room. “I didn’t think of it until after we spoke,” he calls out, voice a little muffled. “But I meant to find you after you graduated. I wasn’t sure when you’d be of age, so I was playing it safe. Then you were gone before I got a chance to…”

Remi’s brows slant in as he trails off, and then he steps out with a white urn. The design is kintsugi-inspired, lines of gold meant to resemble filled cracks. I know right then, setting my hand on her shoulder, and she reaches up to grasp it, squeezes.

“Your dad’s been with me a long time,” he says, gently lifting it toward her.

Her head jerks to me, eyes shiny as I smile at her, then she looks to him. “This is…”

“Dimitri Sinner was such a pleasure to know. I knew I’d get him back to you one day. It just took a while,” he says, emphasizing.

I stroke the back of her hair. “Time to bring him home, darlin’.”

She breathes deep, taking the urn, and then exhales, “Yeah. Home.”

* * *

Colton waitsin the car again as we make our last stop before leaving Ohio. We stayed in Hunts last night after seeing Sage and Miles—and he and I and Colt endured wedding planning that none of us wanted to be a part of—and we fly to Utah this afternoon.

Remi and I have been out here ten minutes, our asses on the cold ground. I’ll sit here forever if she needs me to, though.

“Sometimes I realize I haven’t thought about her in a long time, and I feel guilty.” Remi crashes her head into my arm, eyes trained on her mom’s headstone. “I just can’t remember enough good to outweigh the bad, you know?”

I rest my cheek on her head, entwining my fingers with hers. “I do know. My relationship with my mom was very different than the one you had with yours. Mine showed love and affection but never once when I needed it. Crying and having my mom walk by, pretending I wasn’t there so she didn’t upset her husband, kind of beat the clapping when I learned to ride a bike into submission.”

“We deserved better,” she says.

“We get the better now.” My gaze falls to our fingers as I link and unlink them. “It doesn’t take away the before, but we get to live knowing we won’t be treated like that again.”

I move when she tilts her face up, showing me those mesmerizing orbs. “I’m still so mad at her for not being my mom.”

I lick my lips before nodding. “I know, baby.”

The sadness in her exhale mirrors the one I feel when the thought of my mom pops in. I haven’t heard from her. I won’t.

“What if now she can be?” When Remi looks over, I push her hair back, hand lingering. “She wasn’t your mom because of her addiction. But you once told me you tried so hard to love her for the woman you thought she might be underneath. The addiction isn’t in play anymore. Maybe she can be your mom now that her demons aren’t weighing her down.”

“I think I like that,” she says after a second of consideration. “It means yours will be able to be your mom one day too.”

She’s right. Mine couldn’t be my mom because she needed to be his wife. Even when she wasn’t anymore. She can’t be there for me now either, and I resent her for it. But when she doesn’t need to be connected to him, pleasing him, glorifying him, I can try to see her for who she could have been without the mental blocks. Talk to her like I did, but hear what I needed in response.

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