Page 102 of Back in the Saddle

Goodbye, Dad.

Hunter poured the whisky onto the coffin.

He felt her presence before he saw her.

‘It only now clicked for me that your father’s name was the same astheAlan Jackson.’

He chuckled, although the sound was foreign, like itbelonged to somebody else. ‘You couldn’t make it up if you wanted to … He always said that at least he was talented, and he didn’t share a name with some godawful DJ or something.’

‘That would’ve been tragic.’ Caroline touched his elbow, but he flinched involuntarily.

He took a step to the side, trying to put some distance between them. If she noticed it, she didn’t comment on it, raising her head high.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘How do you think I’m feeling?’ he bit off. He didn’t mean to sound so spiteful, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t feel like himself. What was worse, right now he didn’t think he’d ever feel like himself again.

‘I can’t even begin to imagine,’ she whispered, dropping her gaze to the grass. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’

He knew she was only here because he’d told her he wanted her here. And now he was behaving like an asshole. He wanted to respond, but no words came to him. Instead, he gave her a stiff nod.

‘If there’s anything I can do to help—’

‘You can’t bring him back. And that’s the only thing that would help.’ He swallowed hard, feeling hot, angry tears pooling under his eyelids. ‘Although there is one thing you can do to help,’ he added quietly, turning to her. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her to his chest, lifting her chin and capturing her mouth with his.

Rough, hungry. Full of grief and anger.

‘Hunter, stop.’ She pushed him away, her voice trembling. ‘That isn’t what I meant.’

‘You said you wanted to help,’ he murmured, feeling his heart beat fast. He could almost hear his blood pumpingthrough his veins. Reminding him that he was alive. His father wasn’t. He was alive in a world without his father.

‘I do, I really do.’ She tried reaching for his hand, but he shoved it in his jacket pocket. ‘But not like this. If you want to talk—’

‘And what good will talking do?!’ He let out a strange, distorted laugh. ‘I don’t want to talk. I don’tneedto talk.’

‘You’re grieving,’ she said, nodding. Her face was almost white. ‘This isn’t you.’

Their eyes met and the shock and hurt he saw in hers made him feel so ashamed.

It hadn’t hit him that his father was truly gone until he’d seen the casket lowered to the ground.

He couldn’t see past the pain, not now. Maybe not ever.

Looking at Caroline, all he could see was that she’d soon be gone. Not tomorrow, not even next week, but soon. She’d go back to Scotland. He’d lose her too.

He was so sick and tired of losing people he cared about.

‘I’ll let you go be with your family,’ she said in a small voice.

He had so much to say, but he had no words, so he just watched her walk away. He wanted to call after her but when he opened his mouth, no sound came.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Caroline

Caroline had been staring at the ceiling in the darkness for what felt like hours. Every now and then, she heard a sound outside the window. A passing ambulance. A car with a modified exhaust. They interrupted the uneasy silence of the strange time between night and day, when it wasn’t really morning yet, but it wasn’t quite the middle of the night. Annoyed at not managing to keep her eyes closed, she reached for her phone and checked the time.

4.17 a.m.

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