We buriedShelly and Cheese three days later.
I’d asked Mark where he wanted her laid to rest. He told me I should make the choice because she was my sister. Sister in all but name and blood.
I’d squeezed his hand in gratitude.
Though Shelly wasn’t a Blue Angel, Colt had made it possible for my best friend to be buried next to Cheese.
“She’s got family looking out for her,” Colt whispered, his arm around my shoulder while we stood at the graves laden with freshly turned dirt.
Mark’s eyes were wet, but it was the slump of his shoulders that told me of his defeat, of his brokenness.
Flynn, Ramsey, and a few of their Scottish brethren, stood by our sides and mourned with us.
Silas, Cheese’s brother, stared at his brother’s grave, tears streaking down his face. I wanted to go to him, but what was I supposed to say? How could I offer a child any sort of comfort when it felt like I was choking on broken glass?
It was an intimate affair; Shelly hadn’t been close to many people. A few friends from Dive Bar showed up to pay their respects, but they left quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the men in leather and tattoos.
Everyone was piling into cars to head to the clubhouse where we’d have a wake of sorts. We all wanted to get drunk and forget about what had happened for a night, but no one wanted to let their guard down. Not while the Iron Horsemen were at large.
The Garcia cartel hadn’t yet struck out in violence, and when I asked Colt about it while he’d still been in the hospital, he’d explained. The Garcia cartel was not yet wise to the missing shipment and Dev had enough cash to make it look like he was still selling product. It was a stopgap, and it was why he’d escalated the war. He was desperate.
One by one, the cars started to disappear from the lot. Mark took out his car keys and unlocked his black Mercedes. He wasn’t a flashy man by any means, but he enjoyed nice things and had been willing to give Shelly everything she would’ve ever wanted.
“Mark,” I called out softly. His name carried on the breeze.
He turned. His face was somber, but there was no hostility in his gaze so I took a hesitant step toward him.
“Where are you going?” Colt asked, his hand still linked with mine even though he was conversing quietly with Zip.
“I need to talk to Mark,” I said.
Colt squeezed my fingers and then let me go.
I approached Mark cautiously, like I would a feral animal that had been beaten one too many times.
“I’m sorry.” It was a stupid thing to say to him, but it was all I could muster.
He nodded. “I know.”
My apology was all encompassing. For getting Shelly killed. For being the one to determine end of life care. For being the one Mark had to look at over Shelly’s prostrate form when she took her last breath. Mark and I were now eternally linked by death when we should’ve been linked by celebration and marriage.
“I’m leaving Waco,” he said finally.
“Are you?”
He nodded. “I’m gonna go stay with my mom for a bit.” He swallowed. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love Shelly.”
She’d want Mark to be happy, to find love again, to have a family. But he knew all that, so I didn’t have to say it. Because that was Shelly. She loved people fully. Wanted them to be happy, even at her own expense.
“I—be well, Mark,” I said with finality, knowing I’d never talk to him again.
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he nodded. I took a step back so Mark could open his car door and leave.
I watched as he got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. I knew he’d never be able to put this behind him. Shelly’s death would haunt him forever, casting darkness over every happy moment he managed to find.
My heart was heavy with sorrow and guilt. I turned so I didn’t have to watch Mark drive out of the cemetery parking lot.
I saw Silas, Cheese’s brother, wipe tears from his cheeks with one hand, and reach down to his bike’s handlebars.