Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I swallowed my disappointment. There weren’t any messages from Max on any of my social media accounts. My eyes watered as I clicked out of everything, plugging my phone into the charger.
He was really mad at me. I’d so seriously and completely fucked up.
I sniffled, crawling back into bed and rolled over. Hugging the pillow, I buried my head in it and used it to quiet my tears.
I couldn’t lose Max. I just couldn’t.
I’d make it right tomorrow.
14
MASON
People like to say the funeral service was beautiful. I heard it enough times as people came up, shaking my hand, kissing Sam’s cheek, hugging my kids. But I hated hearing that phrase. It wasn’t true. The funeral sucked. My dad was not supposed to go out that way. It was bullshit and wrong and a tragedy. He should’ve died in his sleep, from old age, needing a handheld urinal to piss. He should’ve been surrounded by his grandkids.
Or fuck, I didn’t know. Just longer. He had more years in him.
Why the fuck couldn’t he have brought us in earlier? We would’ve helped. We would’ve done fucking anything to stop this. He was a Kade. Anyone messing with him messed with us. Fuck the business side of it.
He was one of us.
No one fucked with us.
But it had happened and we’d had one week to process.
One. Week.
That ended when people began arriving for the funeral, because it quickly became a who’s who. CEOs of global companies arrived in droves, celebrity athletes came for me, Olympic medal winners showed up to support Samantha. Channing’s sister and her entire crew arrived. Nate’s sister showed up, along with my stalker and another girl Heather pulled in for a tight hug. Quincey’s half brother traveled down with his family. I was hoping to talk him into taking the giant tortoise back with him.
Then there were the board members. Their families. Shareholders. Any investor and wannabe investor. Fallen Crest’s town council. The mayor. Roussou’s mayor. The chief of police.
The church couldn’t hold any more, so we had to get security. Of course, that was around the time pictures started hitting the internet, and I knew the press would soon show up. A few cameras had been there from the beginning, but by the time the service actually started, the cameras doubled.
Once again, the casket was closed. The minister said his piece. Music played. There were a couple solos and at the end, we took our places at the casket to carry it out. Logan and I were in the front. Nate and Channing behind us, and Matteo and Max were next. Two of our cousins were last. We all wore matching white boutonnieres. Sam had been crying when she helped pin mine to my jacket.
I hated every fucking second of the day.
I cursed every step we took to carry my dad’s casket outside. When it lowered into the ground, I wanted to light it on fire. Fuck throwing in the dirt. Sure, it was symbolic. I knew there was a respect and a sacredness about it, our last goodbye and returning him to the ground. It was the cycle of life.
I loathed everything that happened today.
Fuck my dad for deciding to go out this way. Fuck him. Fuck the Bennetts. But also, fuck that sadness in him, because a part of him wanted out. He wanted to join Analise.
Also, fuck how much I was going to miss him.
We had food and beverages afterward for people at my dad’s place. We’d never sold it, though we’d talked about it enough times. He and Analise would move out. Then they’d move back in. There was a revolving door on that house. I wanted to sell the place, but someone always changed their mind at the last minute. Today it was a good place to host the after-party. I’m sure there was a better, more appropriate word, but that’s what it was. An after-fucking party for putting a dead guy in the ground.
The mayor came around again. The board members. Most of them wanted to know what was happening with the company and when the next meeting would be. All the faces started to blur together. I escaped to my dad’s back office, and Jesus, as soon as I stepped inside, I felt his ghost.
“Took you long enough,” Logan said from the corner. He was slumped in a chair in the shadows.
I grunted and moved to the desk. “What are you doing in here?”
“Same as you. Hiding from all the ass-kissers.”
“We’re leaving our wives out there?”
Logan laughed, the sound bitter, and he raised a bottle of bourbon for a swig. “They’ll be fine. They all move in a herd anyway, and Sam’s hung over. No one’s going to mess with her when she’s hung over.” He shuddered. “Plus, Channing’s sister is out there. She’s protecting everyone in our group.”