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NINE

JAXON

Even though I’ve been working at my father’s firm for well over a year, it’s still weird coming into his office and seeing my name on the placard on the desk. But being here is more my speed. This is where I belong. I felt pretentious when I was working in Seattle. The big city life wasn’t for me.

I set my briefcase down and start in on my emails and answer those back that are immediate and mark others to reply later. I return phone calls from the message pile my receptionist, Mrs. Judy, left me. I smile. She’s known me since I was a kid, having worked for my dad since I was twelve.

When I get to the last message, my heart trips up.

It’s from the funeral home where Suzette had her cremation service.

Dad set up a service for her—more than she deserved—but no one attended.

After everyone found out what happened with Wesley—the real story, not the shit she peddled around for a few weeks—she was shunned and almost run out of town. No one mourned her death.

I did what Wes asked and had her cremated and told the director to do whatever he wanted with her remains. It’s not like I could really send them to hell.

The message says they’ve tried to reach out twice, and if they don’t hear from me by the end of the day, they’ll dispose of her in accordance with their biohazard laws.

My mind is telling me to leave her remains there, that she doesn’t deserve any kindness, not even in death, but my heart won’t let me.

If for no other reason than to give Wesley the opportunity to decide when he’s sober and not lashing out.

When he gets clean, if he still wants me to toss her ashes in the dumpster, I’ll do that.

But I don’t want him to have any regrets.

I’m not sure how or when I’ll be able to ask him, but maybe one day, I can reach out, and he can tell me what he wants me to do.

“Dammit,” I mutter as I push my hair back from my forehead. “Fucking dammit.”

I finish my morning duties—reading over contracts, corresponding with opposing counsel, and organizing my schedule—then slide my jacket on and palm my car keys.

“Mrs. Judy, I have an errand to run. Take messages and place them on my desk, unless it’s?—”

“The Brummel case, I got it,” she says as she types up a memo. “I’ll handle it.”

“I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turn to her, taking in her bright blue eyes and full head of gray hair. She gives me a knowing smile.

“Mrs. Judy.”

“Okay, I won’t call you ‘sir’ again. You and your father are just alike.”

I smile at her compliment and wave before I head out.

The funeral home is a few miles outside of the city, around twenty minutes away from my office. During the drive, my fingers itch to call my mother, even though it’s impossible. I haven’t heard her voice in over six years.

I really fucking miss her. She was the best mother anyone could have.

Always there for me, offering me advice or a shoulder to cry on when I needed it.

After Wesley left, I confessed to her how I felt about him, and she allowed me to cry about him for days.

She didn’t judge me or try to give me false platitudes.

Mom let me feel my feelings, and it brought us closer.

Now is a time where I need her to let me lie on her lap while I pour my heart out to her. She’d tell me the right thing to do.

I pull up to the funeral home, my heart thumping for some reason I can’t pin down. When I step inside, the funeral director greets me with one of those polite but distant smiles. “How may I help you this morning?”

“My name…” my voice is scratchy, so I clear my throat and try again. “My name is Jaxon Collins. I’m here to…I’m here to retrieve the remains of Suzette Morgan.”

His face lights up in recognition, then his eyebrows dip.

He’s old enough to remember when everything came out about Suzette and Perry.

He’s the only person in the area that agreed to do her service.

I think Wesley would be glad knowing many people didn’t agree with what she did and didn’t allow her to live it down.

“Right this way.” The funeral director waves for me to follow him, and we walk toward the back of the building. “I took the liberty of putting her remains in a box in hopes someone would claim her.” His tone suggests he didn’t care one way or the other if she was claimed or not.

I collect the remains and thank the man for calling before I make a hasty exit, tucking the box under my arm. Without any other ideas, I stash it in the trunk .

My heart feels heavy when I climb into my car. I should go back to work and get started on the tasks I have scheduled, but the thought of work drains me more. There’s only one place I want to be right now, for just a few minutes. I’m not feeling like myself, and I need to talk.

The constriction around my heart starts to ease as I park on the road across from my mother’s grave. Tears flow freely down my cheeks, but I feel better being this close to her.

It’ll never get any easier being without her. No matter how many days pass, her loss is so acute, I think I’ll choke on my grief. My steps are both heavy and light as I make my way up the small incline to get to her grave.

It’s clean, the leaves and other debris brushed aside, and a new bouquet of flowers resting on the lip of the headstone. My dad probably visited in the past few days.

“Hey Mom,” I whisper, wiping my face as I stop in front of her grave. I blow on a long breath and drop to my knees in front of her headstone, not really giving a shit about ruining my pants. “Today has been a little rough.”

I run my fingers over the etching of her name and short epithet. Lana Collins. Beloved wife, mother and friend. You will be missed.

“I miss you so much.” My shoulders rock with my sobs, my soft cries cleansing my soul.

“I saw Wesley a few weeks ago. Mom, he looked so bad. I wish we could have done more to help him.” I sigh and gaze up at the sky, searching for her somewhere in the clouds.

“I hope he gets better. But I won’t lie.

It was really good to see him. I told you he’s the only person I’ve been in love with.

Even…. even Evan wasn’t enough.” I smile sadly.

“I know you told me he wasn’t the one for me.

And as always, you were right. Coming back here was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Of course, I would have loved it if you were here too.

” Mo re tears pour from my eyes, but my heart feels lighter.

“I’ll miss you forever, Mom. Save a space for me up there.

” I kiss two of my fingers and lay them on her headstone.

Though I’m still hurting—a pain I don’t think will ever go away—I feel better after talking to my mother. I can almost imagine her talking back, imploring me to try to get in touch with Wesley.

Over the years, she tried to get me to share stories about him, but when she’d bring him up, I’d change the subject. Talking about him hurt too much, especially because I had guilt for what I did, even though I knew it was the right thing.

Wesley doesn’t think so, as he’s still harboring a grudge. Was his drug use because of me? Because the last person he thought he could trust betrayed him?

It’s something I’ve wondered for the past fifteen years, and no matter how many times I tell myself I did the right thing, that someone needed to know he was being abused, I still have a nagging feeling that I’m part of the reason he’s on the path he’s on.

If I can get in touch with him, if I can talk to him, even for a moment, I’ll apologize for what I did. I hope he forgives me this time.