“I’ll be there tomorrow,” I tell him. “Tell Jacey I’m coming.”

“And Maddy?”

“Don’t mention it to her.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I interrupt. “I’ll be there, Brand. Just tell Jacey.”

I hang up and stare at the wall.

This is going to kill Madison. I know she’s devastated. I know how much she loved Tony. She’s had to deal with so much loss in her life—including losing me.

This isn’t fucking fair.

But life isn’t fucking fair.

All I want to do is to grab my stuff and leave. To drive straight to Angel Bay and grab her up, and protect her from everything.

But I can’t protect her from this.

Tony’s dead and I can’t change that.

I hit the showers and pack my shit and then drop into bed, counting down the hours until I can check out of this place and head back to where I belong.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Madison

I’m at Tony and Maria’s house all day.

They didn’t have much money and what little they had was taken up by their daughter Sophia’s college tuition, so as I listen to them decide how they’re going to pay for the funeral, I speak up.

“I want to pay for it,” I tell them as I take in their family photos, photos that include me. Maria just stares at me in shock.

Tony’s been a part of my life for years.

He’s family.

This is the only thing I can do for him now.

The last thing.

“It’s what I want,” I assure Maria as she cries in gratitude. “He was like a father to me, Maria. Mila too. He was always there when we needed him the most. It’s the least I can do.” My voice breaks and a lump forms in my throat and I know from experience that it’s going to be weeks until I’m able to swallow it.

It’s hard to swallow when your throat is full of pain.

Even though I can hardly think through my shock and grief, I help Maria make decisions, because I know that everything I’m feeling is amplified a hundred times in her. And poor Sophia is curled up in a ball on her bed, unable to process anything.

I know how it feels. I feel like I’m walking around in a haze.

But there are decisions to make.

An urn.

Crematory arrangements.

Flowers.

Hymns.

An obituary.

All the things that a funeral needs, we have to decide on. I can’t even believe that I’m doing this again. First my parents… and now Tony. It’s just too much. And then Jacey calls right in the middle of it. Right when I’m overwhelmed with everything.

“Please, Maddy,” she begs tearfully. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I loved Tony too. I had no idea that Jared was going to do that. I thought he was different. I thought he was changing.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” I snap at her as I walk onto the front porch. “I can’t even talk to you right now. Tony’s in the morgue because of your stupid decisions. I never knew that you needed acceptance so bad that you would grovel to a scumbag like Jared. But you did. And you do. And look what happened. This is your fault, Jacey. Your fault.”

I hang up on the middle of her sob and turn to find Maria staring at me, her dark eyes full of tears.

“It’s not that little girl’s fault,” she tells me gently, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. “She makes bad decisions, but she’s just young. This was Jared Markson’s fault—and no one else’s. Tony chose to go over there. He made that decision. You can’t hold Jacey accountable, Madison.”

But I can. And I do.

I’m so pissed off at the world that I can’t see straight.

None of this is fair.

And as I slide my phone into my purse, I see something that I missed yesterday with everything going on.

A missed call from Gabriel.

It looks like he called right when I was talking to Jacey and he didn’t leave a message.

It fucking figures.

And oddly enough, I can’t feel anything about it. My entire body is numb. My mind, my heart, my limbs. I can’t feel and that’s good.

If I can’t feel, then pain can’t overtake me. I can step back and do what I need to do. And Gabriel doesn’t matter right now.

Getting through the funeral tomorrow matters.

Getting past this god-awful grief matters.

Figuring out what to do with my life matters.

Because as I look around, at the lake, at the restaurant, at everything this place stands for, I think I’m tired of it.

I’m tired of it all.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Gabriel

When I walk into the back door of my grandparents’ cottage, I’m almost bowled over as Jacey launches herself into my arms.

“Thank God you’re home,” she cries as she buries herself in my chest. I look across the kitchen to see Brand leaning in the doorway and he looks tired. He’s probably been talking Jacey down all night.

“Hey, guys,” I greet them quietly as I drop my bag on the floor. “I’m sorry about Tony, Jacey. I know you were close to him.”

She clings to me, her tear-streaked face turned up toward me. “I love him, Gabe. You know that, right? You know that I would never have done this on purpose.”

I have to fight the urge to lecture her, to tell her how wrong it was to first lie about Jared harassing her, then actually go back to the scumbag. She’s too fragile right now, I can tell. Her slender shoulders shake as she cries and Brand shakes his head at me, cautioning me.

“I know, Jace,” I tell her instead. “This isn’t your fault. This is Jared’s fault. There’s nothing we can do now but honor Tony’s memory.”

“But Maddy won’t even talk to me,” Jacey continues to cry. “She thinks it’s my fault. And she’s probably right. If only I hadn’t gone back to Jared. If only I’d listened to everyone. They’re having a memorial service in the morning and I know if I go it will upset her. But I need to go, Gabe. He was my friend too. And this is all my fault.”

I pat her back and soothe her and assure her in the best way I can. In my head I’m pissed at her. But I can’t make her feel even worse. It was a stupid thing to do, but Jacey doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She never meant for anyone to get hurt.

I walk her back to her room and sit her on her bed.

“You need to rest, Jacey,” I instruct her. “You’ve got bags under your eyes. I know you haven’t slept. This wasn’t your fault and you’ll be going to that memorial. I’ll go with you, OK?”

She nods soundlessly and curls up. I pull the blanket up to her chin and close the door on my way out.

Brand is waiting for me in the kitchen.

“She’ll be OK,” he tells me as he tosses me a beer. “She was up all night. But she’ll be OK. I know Maddy will come around. These things that happen so suddenly are always hard to take in.”

I nod, knocking back the beer and crushing the can in my hand before I head out the back door.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me.

“Out,” I answer, without stopping. He knows me well enough not to follow as I wend my way down to the beach.

When I reach the edge of the water, I drop onto my heels and stare out at the horizon. From this point, all you can see is the lake. It’s vast and wide and makes me feel small.

It makes me feel like I’m just a fucking speck in the universe, as though all my shit is too small to worry about. Because in the scheme of things, it is.

Life goes on. Whether it’s bad or good or otherwise, it goes on. And there’s not anything we can do but make the best of it.

The best thing I can do is somehow fix things with Maddy. Now’s not the time, because I know she’s going through hell, but I know that I have to try.

One more time.

If she hates me and doesn’t want to talk to me, I’ll have to deal with it.

But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t even try. I’m not a fucking quitter.

I can’t quit at this. Not until the game is definitely over.

Not that it was ever a game at all.

Chapter Thirty

Madison

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” I argue with Mila as Pax carries her down the stairs of their house and deposits her into a rented wheelchair. She glares up at me.

“I love Tony just as much as you do,” she answers. “How in the world could I stay here in bed during his memorial? Seriously, Maddy. He’s been there for us every time we’ve needed him. I’m going to be there for him now.”

“Funerals are for the living, Mi,” I argue again. “Tony won’t know the difference.”

Pax shakes his head at me. “Trust me. I argued with her all last night. Her mind’s made up. She’s just going to have to stay in this wheelchair and we’ll bring her straight home.”

I sigh in frustration. “Mila, the last thing I need today is to worry about you. It’s going to be hard enough.”

Mila glares at me again, her eyes red and her cheeks tear-streaked. “Maddy, today isn’t about you. I’m sorry to sound rude. But today is about Tony and we should all be there. I want to be there.”

Her words hit their mark, right in the middle of my heart. She’s right. Today isn’t about me and she has a right to be there too. I nod slowly.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Of course you should be there. But we’ll have to bring you right back home. You can’t be up very long.”

She nods. “I know. I promise. I’ll come straight home as soon as it’s over.”

Pax gets her situated in the car, then loads the wheelchair into the trunk before he turns to me.

“I don’t like it either,” he tells me. “But she has a point. It’s important to get closure. She deserves that as much as everyone else.”

I nod silently as I climb into the back seat. I’m silent as we drive to the church, silent as we unload Mila, silent as we walk into the church, silent as we find our seats in the family section next to Maria and Sophia. Maria leans over to give me a hug and we settle in on the hard wooden pews.

The overwhelming scent of funeral flowers… the lilies and mums and carnations… they smell so sweet that they make my stomach turn, and they trigger memories of my parents’ funeral. Of the crying, the pain, the grief. But I block them out.

Today isn’t about me.

I stare straight ahead, at the glossy black urn that holds Tony. It’s so small and he was so big. I can hardly believe that he fits into it.

But he does.

I can hardly believe this happened at all. But it did. Everything really can change in a moment. Everything can end and it’s out of our hands. It’s depressing.

I close my eyes, listening to the haunting strains of “Amazing Grace” filtering through the speakers. I don’t open my eyes again until Mila jabs me in the side.

My eyes pop open and I follow her gaze.

Gabriel is walking Jacey down the aisle, his hand on her elbow as he guides her into the church. Her face is tear-streaked and tired, but it’s not her I’m focused on.