Part 16 (1/2)
And then he's on the floor next to me. Pulling me into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and he presses his face to my hair. And I cry.
I cry for myself and I cry for him. For us, and for everything we could have had. Ward can't seem to hold me close enough. Normally, if we were naked and wrapped around each other like this, we'd be tearing into each other, desperate for s.e.xual release. Right now... there's nothing erotic about this, but at the same time I've never felt so intimate with him. We're both bare in every sense of the word.
I want to tell him about the possibility of the baby. I don't want to keep anything from him right now. But I know it would be one shocker too many on a day like this. I won't put him through that.
Ward sucks in a shuddering breath. I squeeze him, and he gives a low groan and tightens his grip again.
”We'll be okay,” he murmurs. ”We'll be okay.”
We'll be okay. We have to be okay. I settle my face in the place where his neck meets his shoulder and repeat those words to myself until I fall asleep.
CHAPTER TEN.
”I'm thinking of going to the funeral,” he says the following morning.
We're sitting on the bed, munching on tiny boxes of cereal-a.k.a. the motel's ”complimentary breakfast”-and pretending to pay attention to the morning show flas.h.i.+ng on the television. Those are the first words either of us have said in the last hour.
Everything feels so strange between us now. Something has s.h.i.+fted between us, opened up-but while part of me welcomes this new sense of vulnerability, there's an awkwardness between us that wasn't there before. We've both stripped ourselves bare, and now we don't seem to know what to do.
I grab some cereal with my fingers and shove it into my mouth. I haven't even thought about Carolson's funeral, but it doesn't surprise me that Ward wants to go.
”I have to figure out where it is and how I'll get there,” he says. ”But I shouldn't be gone more than a couple of-”
”If you're going, I'm going,” I tell him.
He blinks at me, looking shocked. Does he really believe that I'd leave him to deal with this on his own?
”You don't need to come,” he says. ”I know how you feel about Carolson. f.u.c.k, I'm not even sure I want to go. I mean, I don't owe him anything. I hardly knew the guy.” He lets out a heavy breath. ”I just feel like I should, you know?”
”All the more reason for me to be there.”
He shakes his head. ”And what do you think they'll do to you when you show up there?”
I hadn't thought about it, and I don't want to. I'm not going to change my mind.
”What do you think they'll do to you?” I ask.
He rubs the side of his face. ”I don't know. But frankly, I don't give a f.u.c.k. If they kick me out, then they kick me out.” He leans across the bed and takes my hand. ”But we know they want you arrested. I don't want to watch them cart you off in a police car just because you were trying to do me a favor.”
”It's not a favor. I'm not letting you do this on your own.”
He turns those piercing blue eyes on me, stunning the breath right from my chest, but I refuse to flinch. I want him to know I'm serious.
”Maybe... we could sneak you in,” he says begrudgingly. ”I don't know how, but we'll figure something out.”
”And you're just going to walk in the front door?”
”s.h.i.+t, I don't know.” He leans back against the headboard and presses his hands against his eyes. ”I don't want to cause a f.u.c.king scene. But I'm his son. I have every right to f.u.c.king be there.”
I touch his leg. ”You do.”
He drops his hands and looks at me. ”I'm not sure the rest of the family will see it that way.” He gives a bitter laugh. ”I've never crashed a funeral before.”
”Well, it seems like a pretty fitting end for this... for whatever this was.” I'm trying to make a joke, but it falls flat.
Ward pulls me toward him, drawing me into his lap. He cups my face.
”I'm supposed to be taking you away from all this s.h.i.+t,” he says softly. ”Not leading you back to these people. Carolson might have been my father, but he's nothing compared to you.”
”It's not a choice,” I whisper in return. ”It's not me or him.”
”No,” he says, his eyes burning with a heat that I feel all the way through me. ”It's not a choice.”
I lean forward and press my forehead against his.
”I need to go, though,” he says. ”My mom would've wanted it.”
I kiss him, and some of the tension leaves my body. Maybe things changed between us last night, but we're still the same people. And neither of us seems willing to let the other go.
It's not until an hour later-when I'm in the shower-that what I've agreed to do really sinks in. And with it comes the truth I've been suppressing.
I don't want to go to the funeral.
I want to be there for him, of course. More than anything. But I haven't been to a funeral since my father's. And the more I think about it, the less I think I'm ready. I'm not sure I have the strength to do this. Not yet. Not for Edward Carolson.
I sit down in the tub and draw my legs up to my chest. The shower stream hits me in the back as I press my face against my knees.
I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this.
But I will, because Ward needs me.
The funeral is all the way out in Los Angeles.
We find out by going to the library and poking around on some news websites on the public computers. A couple of articles mention the name of the church and share that the memorial service will be held two days from now. They mention that the service will be open only to family and invited guests.
Ward shrugs when he sees that part.
”It's not like we usually follow the rules or anything,” he says. ”Why start now? Besides, I am family, and you're my invited guest.” I don't miss the slight tinge of bitterness in his tone when he says family.
”Why Los Angeles?” I ask. ”I thought he lived in Chicago.”
”He grew up in California,” Ward says. ”Maybe there's a family plot there or something.” When he sees me looking at him, he adds, ”When I found out about him, I did some research. I wanted to know who he was.”
Los Angeles is a problem. We can't drive to Los Angeles in two days.
We spend the next half hour shopping online for airline tickets, and my stomach sinks lower and lower with every click of the mouse. Last minute flights aren't cheap, and we're already low on money.