Page 67 of Shattered Sea

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“Bo. She doesn’t need you to be an unfeeling rock. She just needs to know she’s not alone.”

I stilled my rocking, replaying my dad’s words in my head.

“You don’t have to take care of everyone. Or fix things for everyone. Sometimes, it’s enough to simply be. To hold their hand and walk alongside.”

I swallowed the emotion clogging my throat. “I don’t like being weak.”

“It’s not weakness to feel and to do it deeply. It’s weak if you turn away from someone you care about when they need you. It’s weak if you turn away because you’re scared they’ll see that depth of feeling.”

Carissa had never handled myneedwell. She liked for me to be a stone fortress that she could collapse into. She rarely helped prop me up in return. But Laiken? She’d done it more times than I could count in just the few weeks I’d known her. She’d asked questions that went deeper, wanting to trulyknowme—and not just the surface-level stuff.

I pushed to my feet, sending my rocker thumping against the porch and startling Peaches awake. “I gotta go. I need to find something I can wear to a funeral.”

“That’s my boy. Love you, Bo.”

“Love you, too, Dad. Thanks for the talk.”

“Always.”

I just hoped his words of wisdom hadn’t come too late.

20

Laiken

The parking lotof the church just outside of town was packed. I moved between cars and trucks, gripping the strap of my purse a little tighter as my chest mirrored the action. I forced myself to inhale slowly through my nose. I focused on the barest hint of pine in the air. It was almost dormant now.

Groups of varying sizes moved towards the church door. In front of me, a woman I recognized took her husband’s hand, leaning her head on his shoulder. The longing for someone to lean on hit me swift and strong. But it wasn’t justsomeoneI wanted. It was Boden.

I wanted to feel his callused palm pressed against mine. I wanted to feel that fire of his warming me from the outside in. A million chastisements ran through my head, my subconscious calling me every form of stupid. Boden wanted to help but only on his terms.

I rolled my shoulders back as I climbed the steps, my shoes clicking on the cement. I took one last breath of fresh air before stepping inside, hoping it would tide me over for the next hour or so. While the sun shone brightly outside, the entryway of the church immediately dimmed it. As if the building itself knew that we were in mourning.

My gaze swept the space, picking up familiar faces and strangers alike. But it stopped on someone I hadn’t seen in far too long. I moved before I had a chance to second-guess myself, navigating around people until I stopped in front of the woman who used to be one of my best friends. “Hi, Marisa.”

She blinked a few times as if trying to register my approach. A muscle in her jaw fluttered. “Laiken.”

I guessed all wasn’t forgiven. I didn’t blame her. The last words we’d shared hadn’t been pleasant ones. “How are you doing?”

The woman next to her stepped forward, glaring at me. “Like you care.”

My pulse thrummed in my neck, but I struggled to keep my breathing even. “Hey, Kerry. Good to see you, too.”

She scoffed. “You can run along now. Marisa doesn’t need you around.”

“I think Marisa can speak for herself.”

“This isn’t the time or place,” Marisa bit out. “You want to talk? We can do it later. But you didn’t seem all that interested in what I had to say the last time.”

Her words stung. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there like you needed me to be. You know where I am whenever you’re ready to talk.” I started to turn around and then paused. “I hope you’re okay.”

“Is she for real right now?” Kerry shrieked in a hushed tone.

“Leave it,” Marisa said quietly.

I turned and walked away before she could say anything else. But I’d meant those words. I wanted nothing but the best for her. For all of us. Healing. Peace. Only I wasn’t sure if that was possible.

Sidestepping one group and then another, I followed the flow of people into the sanctuary. I moved into the back row, and my breath caught. The coffin at the base of the altar was gleaming dark brown with a spray of pink roses covering it. Lisbeth’s favorite color. Her favorite flower. Yet it all seemed so wrong.


Tags: Catherine Cowles Tattered & Torn Romance