Page 84 of By Rude Strength

“You want the long version or the shitty short version?” LA snapped.

Cass frowned deeply. “Whatever you’re comfortable with sharing.”

“It’s…” LA inhaled and breathed out, choking on a sob. “It’s over.”

“What do you mean it’s over?” Cass was immediately right beside him.

LA turned, letting himself collapse into Cass’s arms. He squeezed his eyes closed as if he could somehow will the tears away, but it didn’t help. His head burned, his chest ached, and he clung to Cass’s fur. “It’s fucking over.”

Cass held LA close, rubbing his back gently. “Deep breaths, Elly. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

LA didn’t speak for several minutes. He focused on breathing, waiting for the crying to stop, but it felt like it was never going to end. He had to pull away from Cass because his back didn’t like how he was hunched, and he attempted to straighten out and sit up in a more comfortable position.

Cass offered him a box of tissues.

“Thanks,” LA mumbled, grabbing a handful. He wiped off his face, blew his nose, and stared listlessly at the table. His face was blotchy and hot, his eyes burned, and he wanted nothing more than to scream, throw something—anything to put all the emotions still warring away inside of him to rest.

He’d never felt so fucking defeated.

Useless.

Broken.

Cass continued to rub LA’s back, and his big paw was soothing.

LA tried to focus on its warmth and let it ground him to reality, but it was far easier to give in to despair. He hung his head, rubbing his hands over his face. “I can’t get my job back. Not unless the funeral home wants to give it back to me. Which, ha, they don’t. Because I’m an asshole. I’ve always been an asshole. And if shit wasn’t done my way, then it was the wrong fuckin’ way.

“I burned all my bridges. Every last one of them. And yeah, okay, some of them definitely fucking deserved it, but… Now it’s all gone. There is fucking nothing I can do. I can go after them for some kinda medical expenses thing, but then there’s no way in fucking hell they’d ever let me come back.”

“If you’re already certain that they won’t allow you to return, is it not worth looking into?” Cass asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” LA rubbed his face. “I, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to stop trying. I, I don’t want to fucking feel like it’s fucking over!” He sagged. “Even… if it is.”

“I know that you do not want to work at another funeral home—”

“Nope.”

“But.” Cass squeezed LA’s shoulder gently before returning to the comforting massage. “But would that be an option with your injury?”

“Probably not.” LA put his face back in his hands. “No one is gonna hire an embalmer who can’t lift over fifty fuckin’ pounds. I could work as a director and wait on families, work services. But ugh. No. I can’t.”

“Elly, I firmly believe you can do anything you put your mind to!” Cass insisted.

“Yeah, and my mind says thank you but fuck no, I’m not working with families. Could I do it? Probably. I could fake enough sad little smiles, sympathetic noises, and then sayhey, sorry about your Pops, but hey, do you want the five-thousand-dollar casket or the ten-thousand-dollar one?No. Fuck that. It’s not me.” LA peeked through his fingers. “Besides, I can’t stand up for very long before my stupid back hurts. Some services last hours. Directing is out.”

“Teaching?”

“No.”

“Making YouTube videos?”

“Huh? No!”

“I’ve seen them!”

“No.” LA scowled. “Look, it’s over, okay? It’s fucking over and I’ve wasted a fucking decade of my life. No, more than that if I count school. And all of that is just fucking gone now.”

Cass was quiet for a little while before speaking up again. “Did you forget how to help the dead people?”