Page 51 of Give Me What I Want

Cole then leaned forward, his thick arm in its far too tight shirt moving past me to unlock the iPad and call his mum. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” I replied, tightening my hold on Bea’s hand and straightening my spine just as Kira Hart’s face appeared on the screen, the angle aimed up her nose as she fumbled around, cursing in that thick West Yorkshire accent, then the screen flipped, and we were staring at a hearse.

Flowers lined the long window, all colours of the rainbow. The arrangements that Bea had ordered sitting proudly up front. Behind them was nothing but dark space. A gap where my uncle’s coffin would sit once the service was over.

“Can you see everything alright, pet?” Kira asked.

“We can see, Mum,” Cole pretty much shouted, loud and clear, like he was speaking to a deaf old lady.

“Bleedin’ ’eck, boo, no need to shout,” Kira complained, then the picture was moving, shaking as she made her way down the path towards the church near Steve’s house, the same church that I had been christened in back before I even knew Cole.

She pushed her way through the arched double doors, then turned the camera from side to side as she walked the aisle, showing us who was in attendance, making my chest swell a little as I realised how many people had shown their faces to honour the man we had lost.

Kira found my mum, standing in the front in a black dress, tissue blotting at her eyes, the tip of her nose rosy-pink as she tried to force a smile for the camera. “Hey, baby boy,” she cooed, then sniffed, loud and snotty.

“Hi, mum,” I said back, my voice surprisingly not lost to the emotions eating at my insides. “You look really pretty.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, then blinked hard, eyes locking on the ceiling as she opened them, and I knew that this was her holding back. If she had been alone, she’d have been a mess.

My heart ached, and regret panged in my chest as I looked at her through a fucking screen. I should have been there. I should have gone, taken the whole band with me like they had offered. I could be holding her together right now, instead of sitting here, allowing my found family to keep me in one piece.

I had fucked up.

But I couldn’t change it now. We were on the road, heading to Barcelona. I couldn’t be with her today even if we called off tonight’s show. I wouldn’t even make it back to London before midnight. So I swallowed down my regret, locked the feeling in a little box, and tossed it into a pit, never to open again. There was nothing I could do, except be here like this.

I would forever be indebted to Kira, the woman who had become like family to my mum just like her son had to me. They had bonded instantly, the very day they first met. Cole and I had taken years, over a decade, in fact, to find the connection that we have today.

I reached for him, his hand still on my shoulder, and I held it tight, tipping my head to rest on his knuckle as I squeezed his fingers, using him to stop myself from scratching at my skin. For a moment we stayed that way. I stole everything I could from him, the optimism that he somehow still held on to filling me up, and then Kira was sitting down and the sound of a church organ filled the bus.

Bea shuddered beside me, her breath catching in her throat, and I looked down at her now, for the first time meeting her eye, and found it filled with tears, a shining ocean, waves crashing up onto the shore, about to spill over.

“I’m sorry,” she said, barely even a whisper as the words crackled with emotion.

“Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I don’t want to cry,” she managed. Blinking.

“Someone should,” I whispered. “Tears show that you care.”

“You can cry too, you know.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, dipping into the side of her mouth then down her chin, falling onto her lap.

“Not yet,” I said, inhaling through my nose, and turning away from her, still holding her hand, but unable to watch the woman I love cry over the man who meant more to me than any other man in my life ever could.

I knew that she didn’t need me anyway. She had had Ronan and Cole, and in some way, she had Jordan too, even if what they had was a strained familial bond right now, it was something. I took comfort in that for just a moment, feeling a wave of tension leave my body over not needing to look after her. I wanted to, sure, but I couldn’t, not right now.

But then it hurt. Because I realised that she didn’tneedme, and that one day she might notwantme either. I ground my teeth, eyes squeezing closed, and counted backwards from ten to one, pushing the thoughts away on each number. I was too fragile right now to be thinking about anything other than my uncle.

Cole’s fingers flexed on my shoulder as I reached one, and my eyes fluttered open, locking on the iPad screen and watching as, without hearing a damn thing, the service began. I watched people speak about Steve. I watched as my mum got up in front of everyone and smiled with tears in her eyes. All I could hear was the rushing of my blood, pumping around my body, my heart beating, everything pounding. But that was fine. It was good actually, because without hearing the words leaving her lips, I could hold it together. My face would remain fixed with a solemn stare, and I wouldn’t fall to pieces.

It was good.

My vision started to blur as the coffin was marched out of the church, but still, I did not cry. Everything turned fuzzy at the edges, but I did not cry. And eventually, my hearing came back, reality clawed back in, and my mum told me she loved me. I did not cry. I spoke back, flat, monotone, void of all emotion, and told her that I loved her too, that I missed her, and that I’d be home in no time.

She smiled at me, and then she was gone, dragged away by well-wishers wanting to offer their condolences.

“Thanks for this, Mum,” Cole said, and I slumped down in the chair, body turning limp, shirt wrinkling even more. I popped open the top button, sucked in a long breath, and closed my eyes, not blocking anything out this time, just… switching off for a while.

At some point Cole had ended the video call, and everyone except for Bea had relocated, sitting in the lounge. She stayed by my side, wiping her tears with a clump of damp tissue, and sniffing periodically, rhythmically. It would’ve been nice, soothing, if it wasn’t in fact so upsetting, sitting beside a girl who knew loss.

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