“I understand,” the director said in a soothing tone. “All we need you to do is come in and sign the paperwork. We’ll handle everything else from there.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Once the call ended she set the phone down on the island and let out a long exhale. Gage chose a stool across from her and slid onto it.
“That the funeral home?” he asked, those endlessly blue eyes delving into hers. Assessing, measuring.
She nodded, wanting to show him her inner strength. “They need me to sign the paperwork to get everything in motion. I told him I’d head over right now.”
“I’ll drive you,” he said, already pushing to his feet, mug in hand. “Just let me grab a quick shower.”
“Gage.”
He stopped and looked down at her, his expression inscrutable even though she knew he expected her to argue.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “For last night, for the lawn and everything else.”
The surprise evaporated, replaced by a spark of annoyance burning in his eyes. “Quit thanking me for every little thing. It’s startin’ to piss me off.”
She blinked, taken aback by the unexpected response. “Okay. Just wanted you to know I appreciate what you’ve done.”
“Yeah, got it. Give me five minutes.” He stalked from the kitchen, leaving her wondering what invisible land mine she’d accidentally triggered. Blowing out a breath, she waited until he came back downstairs then grabbed her purse and followed him out to his SUV.
Despite the lingering strain between them, Gage drove her to the funeral home and offered to come in with her. She politely turned him down, needing to do this on her own without an audience, even him. When she came back to the truck an hour later she was on the verge of tears. In a few hours the funeral home would take Danny from the hospital morgue and bring him back here to be placed in an oven for cremation. Her hand shook when she reached for the door handle, a low grade nausea churning in her stomach.
Gage reached over and popped the door open for her, his other hand holding his phone to his ear as he met Claire’s eyes and spoke to whoever was on the other end. “Hang on a sec, baby girl.”
Claire knew from that endearment that he was talking to Janelle. He sat upright as she climbed in and shut the door, that perceptive gaze sweeping over her face, not missing the tears blurring her vision.
“I gotta go, sweetheart. Yeah, she’s back now, but it’s not a great time for you to talk to her. Maybe later, okay?” He paused, listening to whatever Janelle was saying. “I’ll tell her. Love you too. Bye.” He set the phone down into the tray in the center console between them and met her gaze. “That was Janelle. I told her about Danny. She said to tell you she’s sorry and to give you a big hug. She’s gonna say a special prayer for him and your family at church tomorrow.”
For some reason, that snapped the final threads holding together what was left of her frayed control. Claire covered her face with her hands and shuddered with the force of the sob locked in her throat. It didn’t make any sense, but receiving that message of sympathy from a teenager was irrefutable evidence that Danny was gone forever.
Gage cursed softly and unbuckled his seat belt. “Ah hell, I’m sorry. C’mere.”
She shook her head and turned toward the door to hide, hating that he was seeing her lose it like this yet again. He ignored her, leaning across the center console to draw her into a hug made even more awkward by the positioning. The moment her cheek touched his shirt she stopped resisting and leaned against him, thankful for the opportunity to bury her face into his chest. It took a while for her to regain her composure enough to pull away and wipe at her wet face.
“I got mascara on your shirt,” she whispered unevenly, automatically reaching out to rub at the marks she’d left.
Gage gently pushed her hands away. “I don’t give a fuck about my shirt,” he told her, taking her chin in one hand to tip her face up. “Talk to me. What do you want to do now?”
She wasn’t sure. Any denial phase she’d been experiencing was blown to hell at this point. Now she was starting to get mad. She welcomed it. “You know what? I’m pissed off.”
He released her chin abruptly and leaned back in his seat to blink at her.
She let out a watery laugh at the stunned look on his face. “Not at you. At Danny.” She shook her head, letting the anger roll through her. It felt good. Hell of a lot better than the hollow helplessness she’d woken up with. “He’s threatened us with this for such a long time, it was always hanging over our heads. He’d veer from being nasty and bitter to yelling and swearing at us when we tried to help, then all of a sudden drop off the radar and not talk to anyone for days while he holed up with his stupid fucking pills and cases of beer. We walked on eggshells around him forever to avoid pushing him over the edge, and for what? He went and did it anyhow.” She shook her head in frustration. “It was fucking selfish of him to take his life, and he knew it. God
damn
him for doing this.”
Gage didn’t say anything, but he seemed a bit taken aback by her rant.
“Seriously,” she went on, wanting him to validate her. “You went through multiple combat tours and other stuff, and I know you saw and did awful things. Every vet comes home with shit to deal with, I get that.” She could see examples of it right now, two of his soldiers’ names lost in combat inked into the designs on the backs of his forearms beneath the sprinkling of reddish hair there. Yet he’d found the will to deal with it all on his own, where Danny had not no matter how she or her father and everyone involved with his case had pushed him.
She didn’t understand why her brother had to wind up a statistic. “You came through the other side and transitioned back into civilian life. It’s not like I blame him for being depressed and disillusioned, especially after his back injury, but I’m so fucking
angry
at him for quitting.” That was the crux of it. He’d given up and his last act on earth was to do the one thing guaranteed to hurt the people who loved him the most. His suffering was over, but theirs had just begun.
Gage was silent a moment, and when he finally spoke his voice was low and quiet. “He didn’t see any other way out, Claire. He didn’t have any more fight left in him.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it took the scorching edge off her temper as effectively as a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Deflated, she closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat with a sigh. “I know, but I’m still mad at him. Part of me wishes he was still here so I could shake him.” But Danny had probably known that. He’d made it very clear he knew what a disappointment and burden he’d become to her and their father.
She ran a hand over her face, stared through the windshield without really seeing anything. “I know I’m at least a little to blame in all this.”
“Don’t say that.”
“No, it’s true. I made no secret about what I thought of his behavior, especially toward the end. And you know what the worst part is? There were many days when I wished he’d do it. Just fucking do it and get it over with so the rest of us could move on with our lives.” She let out a bitter laugh, shook her head at herself in disgust. “Careful what you wish for, Claire. God, what kind of person thinks that about their own brother?”
“Stop beating yourself up. You went through your own hell with all this for the past two years. Everyone’s got their limit. You’re human, and that means you’re not perfect and never will be. None of us are.”
She turned her head to look at him, guilt an oily film coating her insides. “Do you think he knew I was thinking it?”
“Doesn’t matter whether he did or not. Taking his life was his choice to make and no one else’s. Maybe that’s why he did it. It was the only control he felt he had left over anything.”
Yes, she could see Danny thinking that, and it made her feel sick. Needing the connection, she reached out and took Gage’s hand, laced her fingers through his and squeezed. “I’m so glad you never gave up when things got hard.”
It wasn’t meant as a double entendre about their relationship as well, but maybe that was a subconscious slip on her part. Gage nodded once, squeezed her hand in return and didn’t let go. “Me too. Still have my moments though. PTSD is such a piss poor term because it means a million different things to a million different people and everyone’s experience of it is unique. What we see and do in the line of duty, it leaves a mark. It did on me. I don’t think it’ll ever go away completely and in a way I don’t want it to. Good and bad, what I’ve been through helped shape me into who I am today.”
“You mean a former master sergeant with a foul mouth and a habit of ordering everyone around?” she teased.
The corner of his mouth tipped upward in a self-deprecating grin. “Yeah, that too.” Slowly, as though he had to force himself to do it, he pulled his hand free from hers and turned the key in the ignition. “So, where to now?”
She folded her hands in her lap and chided herself for being disappointed that he’d severed the physical contact. What did she expect when nothing was resolved between them? She definitely didn’t have the energy for that conversation right now, nor did she want to go to Danny’s place yet. “To my dad’s, I guess. But look, if you’ve got things to do with the team, I totally understand. Just take me home and I’ll drive there myself.”
He cut her a sharp look and she fought back a smile at the outrage on his face before he spoke. “I told Tom and Hunter I needed a few days off unless something important comes up where they need me. If they do, they’ll call. If not, I’m staying with you.”
“Okay.” She stopped herself from saying thanks just in time, remembering how annoyed he’d been with her for that earlier.
He not only took her to her dad’s and helped them go through all the legal paperwork, he stayed through an incredibly awkward lunch when her mother and stepfather came over. The whole time he stayed at her side but didn’t touch her, a steady, solid presence while they discussed and finalized funeral arrangements. They all wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible, and managed to organize everything for the following afternoon. Claire would host the reception after the short memorial service at the funeral home chapel. Her mother felt strongly about inviting some friends and other relatives, so she and her father gave in and started making calls.
Claire studied her mother while she was on the phone to some acquaintance or another. For the most part they’d patched up their relationship since Claire had become an adult, so they were on much better terms than they had been while she was growing up. Since the divorce her mother had been so preoccupied with her new husband and babies, she’d only kept in touch with Claire through phone calls and the occasional visit, which Claire had hated initially because it felt like her half-siblings had stolen her mother from her. The woman hadn’t been there for Danny since the day she’d walked out of their lives, and part of Claire resented her for being here now. She tried to reason with herself that no matter how things had deteriorated between them over the years, Danny had been her first child. It didn’t help. Her mother showing up and taking over today didn’t magically erase everything she’d put them all through.
Toward dinnertime everything caught up with her and Claire started to fade. Her mother was going on about what kind of flowers to order for the service and what sort of sandwiches to have at the reception, and Claire couldn’t care less. “Whatever you want, mom. Let’s just get this done so we can go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a tough day.” She was dreading it already. It was all too fresh, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Danny forever.
She was sitting on her father’s front room couch with Gage when she gave up trying to stifle her yawns. Without a word he draped a heavy arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. She sighed at the feel of those warm, solid muscles bracing her. Within seconds of resting her head on his shoulder, she was asleep. The next thing she knew, he was urging her upright.
“What time is it?” she blurted, glancing around. Her mother and stepfather were gone, so it was just her, Gage and her father. The TV was on, an action flick they’d all seen before.
“Just after eight,” Gage answered. “Let’s get you home.” He pulled her to her feet and she didn’t protest. Once in the truck, instead of taking her home he drove to her favorite takeout place and paid for their dinner. They ate together at her kitchen table in an easy silence. When everything was cleaned up and there were no more arrangements to be taken care of she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, but she knew she didn’t want to be alone yet.
“Want to watch a movie or something?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “You’re dead on your feet. Go on to bed.”
A taut silence stretched out between them and she didn’t know how to fill it. Did she invite him to her bed again? Because she knew she’d never be able to keep her hands off him, exhausted or not, and there was always the chance he’d reject her outright if she touched him.