Page 9 of Leave Me (Shift MC #1)
Chapter eight
Riley
T he assembled crowd quieted, parting as a tall, bearded man walked beside the patriarch of the King family to the front of the gathered crowd.
“Thank you all for coming,” Merle King greeted everyone, and all lingering conversation ended.
He was a formidable man, even in his seventies and in a wheelchair, but he had been the Alpha before his son.
My eyes kept darting to the other man standing stoically behind him.
His neck had a newer skull tattoo with red eyes and black details, and his leathers lacked the club patches, but he had a presence you couldn’t ignore.
“We are excited to have Alpha King’s son back with us,” Merle went on, sparking murmurs.
My mind finally caught up with what my body already knew. I recognized him, of course, from his social media posts, but also at a bone-deep level. At least I did when we were kids. The man in front of me was a stranger, and yet…
Fowler King was familiar in the basic way that one knew the sky was blue.
He was woven into my memories like the knowledge that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. I’d burned myself once while drunk, temporarily forgetting that fire was hot, but King was always there in the back of my mind.
My best friend throughout my childhood, my teenage crush, and first kiss, was back in Blue Lake.
“… survived by his daughter, Channing, and his son, Fowler,” Merle’s voice cut in.
My lungs protested, and I wondered how long I’d gone without taking a breath. I felt my mom give me a sidelong glance in my peripheral vision as the minister stepped up beside the King family. His clothes didn’t scream religious cleric—a simple black shirt and slacks—but the minister held a Bible.
“We are gathered here today to remember David Merle King,” he read from a printout instead of a Bible verse, and I was thankful for that.
The Kings weren’t a religious family, being a mix of European and indigenous shifters who had their own type of spirituality, so I had to assume the minister was more for the townspeople and the ceremony of it all.
The man continued, discussing Alpha King’s ownership of Motorvated, how he’d excelled in sports in high school, and how proud he was of his children.
My eyes stayed on Fowler, and I saw his jaw working.
His full expression was hidden behind sunglasses, so I couldn’t tell whether he was crying or spitting mad.
“David King was not a perfect man,” the minister went on, and I wondered how many were in the know about his Alpha status.
The club and his family, of course, plus people like my mom and me, who were Pack adjacent.
The shifters from Northlake and the reservation, too.
“The family has asked that after Channing says a few words, the floor be open for everyone to share anecdotes.”
Channing stepped forward and accepted the minister’s handshake.
“Thank you, Pastor Don. I want to add that you are not obligated to say nice things. Until the past few years, I would have had little positive to say, but in the end, he knew what was important. My father was a hard man to love after his wife, Amy, passed. I never got to know my mother, but I hope his soul is resting with hers somewhere now.”
Channing sniffled and stepped back, squeezing her Gramps’ shoulder and dabbing her nose with a handkerchief he handed to her.
Beside them, Fowler’s nostrils flared as he audibly cleared his throat.
He had been close with his mother, and I saw him through the grief while his father fucked off to the bar.
Alpha King had been a hard man to keep loving, in light of his behavior after losing his wife, but he’d been loved by all before that.
It was a surprise that they were welcoming all words about the man, telling the truth of Alpha King instead of glossing over it. I’d been to a lot of funerals, both for family and as a reporter, but they always focused on the positives. I had to hope it was well received.
Clark Finley walked to take his place beside the podium, where a shiny black urn sat.
He looked over our heads towards the foothills.
“David was my best friend since we were nipping at our parents’ heels and gave me the nickname ‘ Fin .’ He taught me how to take an engine apart, gave me a steady career when we opened the shop together, and is the reason I adopted my son.
Seeing David and Amy raising their child together made me want what they had, and they encouraged me to open my heart to a scared little boy. For that, I’ll always be in his debt.”
The son in question, Rowen, stepped up to wrap one arm around his father when Mr. Finley’s voice caught on a sob. He took a deep breath and gave Rowen a grateful smile.
“Growing up, David always knew he was destined to be a leader. I had it in me to be a leader, too, but his surety took a weight off my shoulders,” Mr. Finley went on, referring to them both being alphas without saying it out loud.
“He was right, and I worshipped the ground he walked on, happy to follow his lead. When he lost his way, I stepped up, happy to shoulder the weight for a time. Now, I don’t know how I’ll go on without his steady presence to guide me. ”
Rowen rubbed a circle on his father’s back, concern etched on his brow. Seeing his dad was too choked up to go on, Rowen spoke for him before leading Mr. Finley away. “Thank you.”
Always the quiet one in our friend group, I wasn’t surprised at his brevity.
An older man I vaguely recognized from the Northlake tribe stood and said something similar to the others.
About being an old friend of Alpha King’s, knowing him to be a great leader in his prime, and then offering support to the family.
The owner of The Barn, where Alpha King liked to drink, talked about how he had to cut him off, steal his bike keys, and call the cops on the man, but joked he kept him in business during the recession. We all chuckled at his levity, and the man stepped away.
Taking my mom’s hand, I leaned down to whisper, “Do you want to say something?”
She shook her head, and I found my gaze straying back to Fowler. Would he say something about his estranged father?
When an awkward silence ensued after a neighbor spoke mostly about how noisy the motorcycles were and how much she missed Amy King, many looked at Fowler like he would speak. He gave nothing away and didn’t even flinch toward the podium.
Pastor Don stepped up again. “In lieu of flowers, consider giving to the local causes that David King helped to grow, always leading the holiday charity ride. Please offer your condolences to the King family as you make your way to their house. There will be food and refreshments where you can share your memories of David King.”
As Mom and I made our way to the line forming, I glanced over at the ceremonial resting place for Fowler’s father. The new gravestone read:
David Merle Kin g
Loving Husband,
Father & Son,
Alpha
Seeing the order and wording, I couldn’t help noting that Husband came first and Alpha last, as if for emphasis. If only he had put more effort into being a father.