Page 249 of Second Sets Omnibus

Baker. Jones. Hogan. West. Montgomery.

Right there, under the dirt, rests her corpse. Still dressed in the same outfit Korrine and Ode helped me pick out—a dress she loved to wear in the sunshine. A simple headstone poking out of the ground with her name, date of birth, and inscription indicates where she rests eternally.

Loving mother and friend. Gone too soon.

What an understatement that is. If it weren’t for her autoimmune disease, she’d still be around, watching Lyric grow.

It’s odd that I vaguely remember the day I stood in the sunshine, watching for the last time as my mother’s body rested above ground. Her old and new friends gathered around, taking flowers from a large bouquet on her oak casket. Tears fell. Laughs echoed through the large cemetery in her memory. Somegood. Some bad. Everyone remembered my mother in a positive light.

As for me? I was utterly frozen, running my fingers over the smooth wood, begging her to come back for one more day, just for a few more hours. There were so many unsaid words and declarations.

My brain was fogging in chaos, trying to digest what had happened. My mother fucking died. The boys left me without a word or goodbye. And I was carrying their child. To say my thoughts weren’t in the present was the understatement of the century.

I was a million miles away, but my feet were still in the same spot.

I knew she was in a better place. Or so they say. Her MS wouldn’t bother her anymore. She would be free from the complications of life. But it didn’t stop me from aching for one more hug. One more kiss on the temple. One more, ‘You did good, Riv.’ Just a single chance to tell her that I loved her and wished her well.

Fuck. I miss my mom.

My mother may not have been the best human being on the planet. She worked hard when I was a kid—left me to my own damn devices. But I still loved her. Always will. I reread the names, going down the line until my heart plummets into my ass at the realization.

Baker. Jones. Hogan. West. Montgomery.

I blanch, turning to look at Asher. He stares out my window, locking on the tallest headstone at the end of the row. Shade trees block out the sun, blanketing our moms in beautiful darkness.

“They’re…” I swallow hard, shaking my head.

“I can’t afford this,” I whisper to the funeral home director. “I can’t.”

“You don’t need to, Miss West,” he says softly, eyes brimming with understanding.

“I don’t understand. Why was she brought here? I told them… I…” I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning back in the chair across from him at his mahogany desk.

“It’s all been taken care of. An anonymous donor donated the plot, and the funds have been raised for the funeral. It’s just enough,” he says, sliding a piece of paper across the desk.

“But why would?—”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I whisper with tears streaming down my face. I swear, since I had a child, I have cried like a baby at everything. It doesn’t fucking matter the circumstance. “The donated plot? The funds for the funeral?”

“You asked for space, and I used that against you…” he trails off, looking over his shoulder at Ly playing with the flowers and lightly humming.

“Asher,” I breathe. The roughness of his fingers beneath mine has me gasping for air when I clutch his hand. “You did all that for me? But why?” Why would he leave me and do something nice for me in return? Why would he do that?

“That was my plot. My father bought it in anticipation of my early demise. I… As much as I wanted to be buried next to my mother for eternity, I wanted to give it to someone who could use it more than me. Someone who deserved it. And that person was Stella. I raised funds for her funeral through Rad’s parents. I…went to them for help, and the church stepped up. I just… What I did is inexcusable, and I made it up with everything I did. Your car?—”

“Jesus, Asher. My car?” I gasp, clutching my shirt over my chest.

Stop. Fucking. Walking.

I remember the moment I walked outside as the snow started falling. Ode handed me her keys and told me to track down theguys using her vehicle. I had been walking since they fucking left me. Then, out of nowhere, I found my car with a wet note attached under the windshield wipers from an unknown person. I should have fucking known, but I didn’t question it. It was a gift from someone anonymous.

And I used it every day after that.

“It never gave me problems after that, Asher. What did you have fixed?” I murmur through more tears, trying to hold them back. My goddamn emotions are everywhere lately. It all has to do with the four men who have, once again, broken down my carefully constructed walls. They’re the damn masters of destruction and rebuilding.

Redness takes over his cheeks. “I did what any person would do, Little Brat. I fixed everything so you could have something reliable. And I’m glad I did. If you wouldn’t have had that for Lyric…”

“But I did,” I whisper. “It was the greatest gift you could have given me while I was pregnant.”