Page 12 of Fierce Love
“I’m serious,” he calls out to me as his friend tugs him out the door. “I’ll be back.”
“Oh my god,” Franny says from beside me, watching the two leave together.
“Yeah,” I say, unable to hide my wistful tone.
“You know who that is, right?” She peers at me, surprise clear in her gaze.
“Nate. He must work at the campground? Or a backpacker or something? His hands were callused.” I stare down at my hand, the one he linked with his at some point. His palm pressed against mine is still fresh in my memory. Another shiver dances along my spine, sending a rush of goosebumps down my arms.
“I doubt he actuallyworksat the campground. Not in the way you and I work.”
I give her a quizzical look.
“That was Nathaniel Tucker. As in Celia and Jonathan Tucker’s oldest kid. He’s Callahan’s cousin. The two of them are tight—like brothers.”
My eyes widen, and I press my fingers to my lips. “Oh my god. No!”
She lets out a cackle as she starts moving around the bar, tidying bottles and glasses. “Onlyyouwould be offended to have made out with a Tucker.”
While she loads her tray with empties and takes it to the bar, I do the same.
“It’s not like he’s a troll,” Franny says. “It’s really unfair how beautiful all the Tuckers are. You shouldn’t be disgustingly rich and disgustingly handsome.”
On top of that, he’s a good kisser. That kiss was the best I’ve ever had, not to be repeated. If there is one thing I know with absolute certainty—the Tucker family is trouble, and I already have enough of that in my life.
Chapter Six
Hollyn
The funeral is well attended, and from behind one-way glass, I survey the crowd with my sister by my side. As a kid, everywhere I went on the island, it felt like someone knew my aunt. She worked for countless wealthy families as an employee in some capacity or worked beside so many of the people in our neighborhood that I shouldn’t be surprised. Unless she was incredibly sick, she never missed a shift, never let anyone down.
I loved her with my whole freaking heart.
Giving her eulogy is going to be like ripping my heart out of my chest and showing it to everyone in the room. No matter how many drafts I’ve gone through over the last couple of days, I can’t seem to get the sentiment exactly right. Nothing I can say will ever effectively convey how deep my bond ran with my aunt, but I owe it to her to try, to tell all these people how wonderful she was. What I’ve got will have to do.
Maybe if I was sleeping better, writing it would have been easier. Distorted memories—some distant, some not that long ago—have been eating chunks of my REM sleep every night since I got the call. I thought staying at a hotel, devoid of anything personal, might have been easier. No such luck. Between seeing Nate and my aunt dying, I’m a mess, barely holding my emotions in check.
At the door to the observation room, there’s a kerfuffle, and I half turn, wondering who’s trying to burst into the room. When it finally swings open, I realize I shouldn’t have been surprised to see my mother and father, frazzled, their appearance grizzled by poor care. I’m sure they’ve been to my aunt’s apartment, but we’re not staying there.
Kinsley presses closer to my side. I doubt she remembers them, and they look like hardened criminals. Which theyare. Prone to drinking or taking drugs when the mood suits. Volatile.
“You’re not welcome here,” I say as Otis leaves, probably to get security. I already told him that my parents might try to crash the funeral.
“She wasmysister,” my mother says, pointing at her chest, as though that makes all the terrible things she’s done forgettable in this moment. I don’t even know what their sibling relationship has meant to my mother. From the outside, it looked like a means to emotionally manipulate Aunt Verna.
My mother can’t guilt me into anything anymore. I’m numb to her efforts, but I still possess a healthy amount of fear. Mickie has a mean streak that’s almost unmatched.
“Aunt Verna wouldn’t have wanted you here,” I say.
“Yes, she would have. You poisoned her against me. Just like you’ve probably poisoned my poor, sweet baby girl.” She tries to touch Kinsley, and my sister shrinks into me.
“All right.” A tall, dark-haired police officer enters the room, his voice booming. He’s got thick arms and thighs, and he’spretty freaking intimidating, andIhaven’t done anything wrong. He looks familiar, and I try to place where I might have seen him before. Maybe we went to school together. “Mickie, Niall, you gotta get out of here,” he says, slinging his thumb over his shoulder. “Otis doesn’t want you here.”
“Stephen,” Mickie says, turning toward him, her bottle-blond hair swinging around her shoulders. “Verna wouldwantus here. She loved me.”
“Officer Foster, Mick. That’s how you address me. We’ve talked about this,” Stephen says, leading her by the arm out of the room. His hand makes her arm look like a twig. “We’re not buddies, despite how many times I’ve detained you for drunk and disorderly conduct and listened to you rant behind bars.”
My father drops into one of the seats in the room, his graying reddish-brown hair falling into his eyes. Officer Foster turns back to him after pushing my mother somewhat gently out the door.
