Page 12 of Leave Me
“Looks like you can get around most of the property,” I commented, walking beside Gramps as he wheeled along the path. As a boy, he’d been larger than life, but losing his wife crushed him. I had to hope that losing his only son wouldn’t make him spiral again.
“I can.” Gramps paused before he turned the corner up the path where everyone was waiting. I could hear the assembled crowd just out of sight. Gramps met my eyes. “Your dad stopped drinking a couple years ago, and he rectified some of his mistakes.”
“Yeah, it looks like he did,” I agreed, thinking of the letter and things Channing had tried to tell me.
“You were missed,” he added, the weight of his words hitting me squarely in the chest, and I rubbed over my heart. “But that’s partly my fault. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you more. To make sure you knew you were accepted and loved without conditions.”
My throat clogged up, and I choked it down. I needed to hear those words from him, but I didn’t want to start crying again, right before I faced the whole pack and town. “Thank you, Gramps.”
He looked at me with his intense blue eyes, and I could see the former Pack Alpha in him. He finally nodded and led me on to the firing squad.
“Let’s get this over with,” I whispered to myself, slipping on my sunglasses.
Chapter eight
Riley
The assembled crowd quieted, parting as a tall, bearded man walked beside the patriarch of the King family to the front of the gathered crowd.
“Thank you all for coming,” Merle King greeted everyone, and all lingering conversation ended.
He was a formidable man, even in his seventies and in a wheelchair, but he had been the Alpha before his son. My eyes kept darting to the other man standing stoically behind him. His neck had a newer skull tattoo with red eyes and black details, and his leathers lacked the club patches, but he had a presence you couldn’t ignore.
“We are excited to have Alpha King’s son back with us,” Merle went on, sparking murmurs.
My mind finally caught up with what my body already knew. I recognized him, of course, from his social media posts, but also at abone-deep level. At least I did when we were kids. The man in front of me was a stranger, and yet…
Fowler King was familiar in the basic way that one knew the sky was blue. He was woven into my memories like the knowledge that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. I’d burned myself once while drunk, temporarily forgetting that fire was hot, but King was always there in the back of my mind.
My best friend throughout my childhood, my teenage crush, and first kiss, was back in Blue Lake.
“… survived by his daughter, Channing, and his son, Fowler,” Merle’s voice cut in.
My lungs protested, and I wondered how long I’d gone without taking a breath. I felt my mom give me a sidelong glance in my peripheral vision as the minister stepped up beside the King family. His clothes didn’t scream religious cleric—a simple black shirt and slacks—but the minister held a Bible.
“We are gathered here today to remember David Merle King,” he read from a printout instead of a Bible verse, and I was thankful for that.
The Kings weren’t a religious family, being a mix of European and indigenous shifters who had their own type of spirituality, so I had to assume the minister was more for the townspeople and the ceremony of it all.
The man continued, discussing Alpha King’s ownership of Motorvated, how he’d excelled in sports in high school, and how proud hewas of his children. My eyes stayed on Fowler, and I saw his jaw working. His full expression was hidden behind sunglasses, so I couldn’t tell whether he was crying or spitting mad.
“David King was not a perfect man,” the minister went on, and I wondered how many were in the know about his Alpha status. The club and his family, of course, plus people like my mom and me, who were Pack adjacent. The shifters from Northlake and the reservation, too. “The family has asked that after Channing says a few words, the floor be open for everyone to share anecdotes.”
Channing stepped forward and accepted the minister’s handshake. “Thank you, Pastor Don. I want to add that you are not obligated to say nice things. Until the past few years, I would have had little positive to say, but in the end, he knew what was important. My father was a hard man to love after his wife, Amy, passed. I never got to know my mother, but I hope his soul is resting with hers somewhere now.”
Channing sniffled and stepped back, squeezing her Gramps’ shoulder and dabbing her nose with a handkerchief he handed to her.
Beside them, Fowler’s nostrils flared as he audibly cleared his throat. He had been close with his mother, and I saw him through the grief while his father fucked off to the bar. Alpha King had been a hard man to keep loving, in light of his behavior after losing his wife, but he’d been loved by all before that.
It was a surprise that they were welcoming all words about the man, telling the truth of Alpha King instead of glossing over it. I’d been toa lot of funerals, both for family and as a reporter, but they always focused on the positives. I had to hope it was well received.
Clark Finley walked to take his place beside the podium, where a shiny black urn sat. He looked over our heads towards the foothills. “David was my best friend since we were nipping at our parents’ heels and gave me the nickname ‘Fin.’ He taught me how to take an engine apart, gave me a steady career when we opened the shop together, and is the reason I adopted my son. Seeing David and Amy raising their child together made me want what they had, and they encouraged me to open my heart to a scared little boy. For that, I’ll always be in his debt.”
The son in question, Rowen, stepped up to wrap one arm around his father when Mr. Finley’s voice caught on a sob. He took a deep breath and gave Rowen a grateful smile.
“Growing up, David always knew he was destined to be a leader. I had it in me to be a leader, too, but his surety took a weight off my shoulders,” Mr. Finley went on, referring to them both being alphas without saying it out loud. “He was right, and I worshipped the ground he walked on, happy to follow his lead. When he lost his way, I stepped up, happy to shoulder the weight for a time. Now, I don’t know how I’ll go on without his steady presence to guide me.”
Rowen rubbed a circle on his father’s back, concern etched on his brow. Seeing his dad was too choked up to go on, Rowen spoke for him before leading Mr. Finley away. “Thank you.”
