I know the path. He’s buried along with several other officers near a special statue that the city erected in their honor. His burial was free—as if that’s supposed to somehow make it better. That’s one of the perks to being an officer—when you leave this earth way too early, the city ponies up for a mid-range coffin and some flowers.

My throat starts to close up the closer I get, but I keep pushing my feet forward. I have to do this. I have to do this. I can see the top of the stone, and I notice the M right away. His grave is covered in flowers. I know Caroline brings a new bouquet every Saturday, but there are so many more. My father was beloved by his department—beloved by anyone he ever let in. It usually took a while to wear him down, but after twenty years in the same town, protecting the same people, eating the same pies at the same diner, and getting his hair cut by the same barber—well, Mac had managed to build quite a family of fans, even if they all drove him crazy.

Cody’s hands are on my shoulders, and that’s when I notice I’m on my knees. My face is soaking with my tears. I’ve been crying silently for minutes, just looking at his name and thinking about all of the things he’s going to miss, and I can feel my stomach clenching with anger. I picture the face of his killer, and I scream and push my fingernails deep into the grass, ripping up chunks and throwing them at the grave.

“Daaaaddddy!” I scream, my hands covered in dark soil. Cody’s reaching around my stomach and lifting me back up to my feet, and I turn into him on instinct, nestling my face deep into his chest and wailing for minutes, choking as I struggle to breathe. Cody doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. He just keeps me locked in his arms, as he lets me feel.

We’re at Mac’s grave for almost an hour, and I’m weak when we leave. Cody reaches his arm under mine, supporting most of my weight as we walk back to the roadway. I can tell he’s tired—his limp is heavy, and it makes us slow. Trevor doesn’t help—he stays far behind, but he stays. We get to Cody’s truck, and he opens his door for me to climb inside. I pull my knees up and turn sideways, leaning my face along the torn vinyl of his seat, and Cody reaches up to wipe the leftover tears from my face with his sleeve. He grazes my lip with the pad of his thumb and smiles tenderly before he shuts my door.

My body is limp—my chest is heavy, and my breathing is labored, but my insides feel strangely empty. I feel lighter, like I’ve been holding onto a sickness for years and finally found relief. It doesn’t feel natural, and I keep taking a deep breath—a full breath—to make sure it’s real.

Cody’s walking around the front of the truck, but he stops to pull his phone out of his pocket, and I can see him struggling to hear whomever is on the other end, stuffing his finger in his ear and pacing a few steps from the truck. He hasn’t talked to Gabe or Jessie since we left, and I’m sure they’re worried.

I check the rearview mirror to see if Trevor’s made it to his car yet, but he hasn’t. He’s walking back along the path, slowly. My neck twists back to the front the second I hear the sound of Cody’s fist as it pounds on his hood over and over again. His face is hard, his eyes red, and his jaw clenched tightly. I can’t hear him or his conversation, but when he starts to walk back and forth in front of me, digging his hands into the front of his hair and looking up while he screams obscenities, I know something is deeply wrong.

I pull the door handle slowly and slip from the truck just in time to hear the end of his call.

“What do you mean, Gabe? How can they do that?!” Cody’s yelling, and his eyes are on fire. “That f**king liar!...No, Gabe. Just stay there. I’m coming home. Fuck! It’s going to take me hours…just…”

Cody makes eye contact with me while he’s talking, but his stare is blank, like I’m a stranger. Something’s wrong, and my mind is racing with the possibilities. I piece it together, but only seconds before it comes spilling out in front of me—I know the second Cody’s eyes meet mine again, and they’re cold.

“Just wait for me, Gabe. We’ll deal with it,” he says, tossing his phone on top of his hood while he holds my stare and walks by me, his eyes low and words hanging on his breath. He can’t seem to speak them to me, and instead, he only points his finger at me and shakes his head as he picks up speed and heads straight to Trevor.

“You piece of shit!” he yells, moments before he cocks his arm and sends his fist into Trevor’s completely unsuspecting face.

Trevor falls back to the ground and grabs his face, wiping the blood from his nose on his shirt and looking at it. He gets some on his hand and holds it up to show Cody, almost like he’s using it as evidence, as proof. “Fuck, man! What the hell?” Trevor says, struggling back to his feet, but he never makes it before Cody kicks him back down and lands on him to pound him with his fist again and again—his tired body clearly fueled by rage now.