Page 15 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)

SHAY – LAKE GEORGE, NEW YORK

GRAVESIDE SERVICE – LATE MORNING

T he wind was too soft, too polite. As if it didn’t want to be heard over the sound of goodbye.

Shay stood at the edge of the burial plot, her mother’s casket settled low in the ground, the preacher’s final words dissolving into the quiet rustle of tree branches overhead.

It should’ve rained , she thought. Margaret Whitaker deserved a dramatic send-off—a storm, a sky cracked open, a downpour so fierce it made people remember.

Instead, the sky stayed overcast but dry. Gray and ordinary.

It felt wrong.

Until she turned her head and locked gazes with Moose, and everything snapped into place as if his presence made the world right again.

People stood in clusters behind her—former students, old colleagues, neighbors who’d been on the receiving end of Margaret’s fierce compassion at some point over the years. The turnout was bigger than Shay had expected. Not that it surprised her. Her mother had always made herself unforgettable.

Still, standing here now—next to a rectangular hole lined with artificial turf and floral sprays—Shay felt completely, utterly alone.

Except for Moose. It seemed everything came back to him and his quiet demeanor. His strength.

She sighed, lifting her gaze, staring over the rows of tombstones of all shapes and sizes. Some of them were new, others had been there for decades or longer. A man, dressed in all black, stood under an oak tree. She sucked in a deep breath, wondering why he was standing all the way up there.

Moose inched in close to her. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t speak. Just stood near enough for her to feel his heat and the weight of his presence. Solid. Grounding. Like a wall she could lean against if the wind got mean.

She was grateful for that.

The preacher closed his Bible and gave a respectful nod before stepping away.

One by one, people moved forward to offer words.

Some left flowers. A few laid smooth stones on the edge of the casket, a tradition Margaret had adopted during her years of working with grief counseling.

“Leave something behind when you say goodbye,” she used to say.

“Even if it’s just the weight of your love. ”

Becca came up next and said a few words about how Margaret had been like a second mother. How she’d always been a safe haven for her and all the girls. She left behind a blanket made from old T-shirts Shay’s mother had made.

Next came a retired principal and then a quiet young man whom Shay didn’t recognize—until he said, “She talked me down from ending my life when I was fifteen.”

Shay’s knees nearly buckled.

But Moose was there to hold her steady.

“Are you going to say something?” she whispered.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said softly. “Public speaking isn’t my thing.”

“You know what my mother would say about that.” Shay arched a brow.

“Besides, I know you brought something to place on the casket. I just don’t know what.

” She gave him a little shove. A part of her felt guilty because he was the last person before it was her turn and she wanted to avoid it.

Not because she didn’t want to honor her mother, but because she just wasn’t ready to let go.

Moose stepped forward. He reached deep into his pocket and pulled something out.

He fiddled with it between his fingers and cleared his throat.

“My name is Matthew Rhoades, but everyone calls me Moose. Margaret was my counselor when I was in high school and she’s the sole reason I was able to join the Navy.

” He swiped at his cheeks. “Like so many before me have mentioned who had met her in her office, our lives weren’t necessarily easy, but she gave us hope.

She gave us something to grab hold of. Something more than a wing and a prayer.

Or even a dream.” He let out a long, slow breath.

“I remember writing to her after being injured during a mission. At the end of the letter, I let her know about a medal I’d received.

She wrote me back. One of the few times it wasn’t the standard one or two times a year.

She was a little annoyed with me because I hadn’t owned the medal.

That I put it in there like a side note.

She told me that this thing.” He held it up and puffed out his chest. “Was not something to shove in the corner. That she’d looked it up and knew what the Navy Cross meant.

” He placed it on the casket. “I will always struggle to believe I deserve credit or recognition for doing my job. However, I know that this matters. That I matter. Thank you, Margaret, for believing in this kid. Keep this medal as a reminder that he never forgot all those life lessons.” He rejoined Shay.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “My mother’s smiling down on you.”

“I actually believe that.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was soft and warm and reminded her of all the good things in life.

Now that it was Shay’s turn, her legs felt like they might not hold her. But she stepped forward anyway, a single white gardenia trembling in her hand.

“As a kid, anytime I had to speak in public, I’d write notes because I didn’t like to do this.

While I wasn’t a shy kid, I struggled when all eyes were focused on me.

My mom used to tell me that if I could ever learn to ignore the little voice in my head that told me the eyes were judging me, I’d be fine.

I guess today is that day because I didn’t write anything,” she said, voice clear but tight.

“My mom raised me alone. She gave everything she had to me… and to other people who needed something to believe in. She didn’t talk much about herself.

But she was the strongest person I’ve ever known.

The most stubborn. The kindest. The most… ” Her breath caught.

Moose stepped a fraction closer.

Shay drew in a breath and steadied herself.

“She mattered,” she finished. “To a lot of people. But to me, she was everything. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to that.

” She held up the flower. “When I was a little girl, my favorite thing to do with my mom was to garden. Neither one of us were very good at it. We’re still not.

But we both love a pretty flower, especially these.

” She laid the gardenia gently atop the casket.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “Always.”

She stepped back, and the moment felt so fragile she didn’t know where to put her hands.

Then Moose’s arm brushed against hers, and without asking, without hesitation, she slid her fingers into his.

He didn’t say anything. Just held her hand tight.

They stood there together, staring at the casket, while the crowd shuffled off toward their cars.

When the last person had stepped away, Shay couldn’t bring herself to move. As if leaving this gravesite would mean she’d lose her mother forever. The cemetery workers stood respectfully off to the side, waiting.

“Ready?” Moose asked gently.

“No,” she said. “But I guess I have to be.” She shifted her gaze, staring off into the trees that lined the cemetery.

She squinted. That man in the dark coat and dark slacks was still standing under the oak tree.

He just stood there staring back at her.

At least she thought he was looking in her direction, though he was too far away to tell.

He’d been there during the entire funeral and it had unnerved her.

“What is it?” Moose asked.

“Some dude has been watching the funeral from a distance,” Shay said. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t join. Makes him look like a creeper.”

“Want me to go find out who he is?” Moose asked.

“No. But thank you,” she managed. “I miss her so much. I feel like a piece of me is gone.”

He turned, cupping her face. “She will always be with you.”

“I just feel so empty.” Shay slumped into Moose’s strong frame. The tears came hot and fast. She’d been keeping it together for months. Through all the doctor visits. Home nursing visits. The medical bills piling up. Everything.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Moose wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his strong chest. “One breath at a time, the space will fill again. It won’t ever be the same, but it will be filled with precious memories and love. I promise you that.”

Shay believed him. Or at least she wanted to.

Moose – Lake George, New York

Later That Evening – Margaret’s House

The house was finally quiet.

Not the heavy, grief-choked kind of quiet it had worn the last few weeks—but the kind that came after people left.

After the casseroles were delivered and awkward hugs were given.

After the kind words turned into whispers and the final cars backed out of the driveway with taillights fading into dusk.

Moose stood in the kitchen, his hand wrapped around a cold bottle of beer he hadn’t taken a sip from. Shay was somewhere down the hall, changing out of her funeral clothes, or maybe just breathing. She hadn’t said much since the last guest left.

He looked around the room, noticing the bright cabinets, the photo on the fridge of a much younger Shay grinning with a missing front tooth, and the mug with a chipped rim that Margaret had used every morning.

It felt like Margaret was still here somehow—woven into the bones of the place. But it was Shay who filled the air now.

And that… was getting harder to walk away from.

He heard her footsteps before he saw her—soft, slow, dragging slightly like the weight of the day hadn’t let up.

Her hair was pulled back in a loose tie, face bare, her eyes tired but open. There was a vulnerability in the way she held herself now that he hadn’t seen before—like she was unguarded for the first time in days.

“I think they brought six versions of macaroni and cheese,” she said.

He gave a quiet nod. “And three lasagnas.”

“Everyone thinks grief makes people hungry.”

“Sometimes it does.”

She leaned against the counter across from him. “Sometimes it just makes you want to disappear.”

He watched her for a moment before setting his bottle down. “I need to head back to Virginia,” he said gently.

Her expression didn’t shift. But her shoulders dropped just slightly. “I figured,” she said.

“I don’t want to,” he added. “But I do have a career, and the Navy doesn’t forgive easily. And honestly, I think I need a little space to figure out what the hell just happened to me.”

She tilted her head. “What just happened to you?”

He let out a quiet, soft laugh. “I think I just got into my first real relationship without realizing it.”

She blinked, then her eyes went wide, as if she understood but didn’t.

“I care about you, Shay,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I don’t totally understand it. And I’m not great at this kind of thing. But I’d like to keep in touch. Write. Call. Visit. If you’d want that. If you’d want me in like a boyfriend kind of way.”

“That’s a lot to unpack.”

“I know.” He nodded. “But you’re not running. You’re not telling me to take a hike.”

“No, I guess I’m not,” she said. “I don’t know what that would look like, though. How it would work. The logistics of it all. And that’s weird because unlike my mother, I’m not the most practical person.”

He took a step closer. “It won’t be easy… long distance and all. But I feel as though I’ve known you longer than the week I’ve been in this house. It’s the kind of comfortableness that I’ve only felt with my team and my chickens.”

“I’m starting to get jealous of those little creatures.”

He laughed. “I’d like you to come see Virginia sometime,” he said. “It’s not much, but it’s quiet. Simple. And the chickens, they grow on you.”

She smiled. It wasn’t big, but it was bright. “I have no idea what’s next and there’s still so much to do here,” she admitted. “I feel like I’ve been frozen in place for months. But I know I’m not staying in Lake George forever.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I have loose ends to tie up. The house. Her things. Jury summons. But I don’t belong here—not long term.”

“Where do you belong?”

She hesitated, then said, “I don’t know. But I think I’m finally willing to find out.”

He reached for her hand, fingers brushing hers until she laced them together. The fit was easy. Natural. Like something they hadn’t even realized they’d been building.

“Have you always felt like an outsider in your hometown?” he asked.

“It’s not that,” she said. “I do love it here. I see myself always coming to visit. My mom—her memory—will be here forever. It was a beautiful place to become the young woman who wanted to see the world. And I’ve seen a lot of it.

I still want to do some traveling. However, the itch to carve out my own corner of life has finally settled into my bones.

I don’t know if my mom’s passing has something to do with that or if it’s simple age and maturity.

But the one thing my mom always told me was that a person needs to find their road, travel it, take the fork, get a little lost, and land in just the right spot. ”

“She always had the best way of saying things.”

“That she did.” Shay nodded.

“So, what do you say?” he murmured. “Want to take a risk? Take that fork in the road and see where we land?”

“I think I do,” she said. “Just… don’t disappear.”

“I won’t.” He had to wonder if that was a statement born out of being abandoned by her dad. “That’s not my style. Not even when I left this town. I said all my goodbyes. Even to my folks who didn’t seem to care.”

She touched his cheek. “I care.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” She rested her head on his shoulder. “This is nuts.”

“Your mom would say it’s fate.”

“For a woman who barely dated, she was a hopeless romantic.”

They stood there in the kitchen, two people stripped down to nothing but truth, and for the first time in years, Moose felt something other than duty or survival.

He felt possibility.