Page 9

Alex

I should be an expert on funerals—what to wear, how to act, how to cope with the corpse of a loved one being put on full display for everyone to cry over. I should feel grateful; some people have no one, but having a big family doesn’t make it any easier.

The grey stone church in Canaan is already crowded, nestled at the top of a hill surrounded by willows and maples and catalpas. It would look positively charming on this warm spring day with its cement urns overflowing with flowers and ivy crawling up the ancient stone walls if it didn’t contain the murdered corpse of Evie Maguire inside of it. It looks like the entirety of Canaan is here along with a sizeable chunk of Dire Ridge. The entire roster of Dire Ridge’s soccer team is here along with a mass of girls who are crying more than anyone else, which is probably Canaan’s softball team.

I didn’t know what Colson would be like, having to be in the same room as Evie’s remains one week after he physically pulled them out of a galvanized pipe. He’s calmer and more focused than I thought he’d be.

And that’s more unsettling than anything.

Adrian spends most of the visitation off to the side with Evie’s father, Scott, immersed in shop talk—the easiest escape with someone he knows won’t pry into his emotions. Scott and Adrian are very similar, much more similar than Aiden and Mason’s fathers, whose shop talk usually involves business contracts with many more zeroes on the end.

Standing near Evie’s casket with Colson, the one thing I’d forgotten was how exhausting it is to be on for that long. I don’t envy Colson, having to speak to everyone that walks by. Funerals are such bullshit; the last goddamn thing you want to do is host an event where you’re forced to talk about the person you’ve lost with everyone they ever knew. I wish I could switch places with Col and just do this for him since I’ve already done it—twice.

Mason’s not doing as well, lingering against the wall just gazing around the room like he’s looking for something. Maybe Colson’s low-key rage is keeping him going, but Mason’s been off ever since he came out of those woods. He’ll pull it together enough in school to seem relatively normal, but there’s still a far-off look in his eyes like it’s replaying over and over in his head.

The only time he looks remotely alert is when Bryce, Logan, Jordy, and Tyler enter the room and begin making their way through the crowd. It’s also the only time Sydney steps away from Aiden’s side. It’s bizarre, but I don’t question it. Grief does things to people. Tyler rushes ahead of the group and raises her arms, embracing Sydney as soon as she’s close enough.

They look strikingly similar, both dressed in knee-length Navy blue dresses that hug their figures, Sydney in nude pumps and Tyler in brown leather wedge sandals. It makes me wonder if they planned it, which wouldn’t shock me. It also wouldn’t shock me if it were total coincidence. After only a few months, it’s almost like they’re melding into the same person.

Meanwhile, Dallas just looks uncomfortable, gazing around the room absently as the crowd threatens to swallow her up if she gets too close. Her friends have already been here, but she looked as happy to see them as a mouse about to be eaten by a cat. Otherwise, Dallas probably has no clue who most of these people are. So, she just stands at her mom’s side, in her black wrap dress with purple wedges. She’s wearing glasses again, and they’re also purple.

To match her shoes.

I usually don't give a shit about a girl's makeup, but for some reason I can't stop looking at Dallas's. And it's nothing special; she's barely wearing any. But I think it's how her sharp, winged eyeliner whisps away from the corner of her eyes and makes them pop against her black hair and fair skin. They get even bigger when she smiles, like she did when I took her back to class the other day. But not today. If anything, Dallas is trying to move her face as little as possible because if she does, her chin starts trembling and she has to fight the corners of her mouth as they pull downward.

I glance back and forth between her and Colson, who’s talking to Bryce while Logan’s moved on to Sydney. Now that I have nothing to do but stand here and watch everyone, I’m not sure how Dallas and Colson can be related. Evie always looked more like him than Dallas does. But Dallas would fit right in with the women in my family, with her long black hair and that dump truck of an ass.

Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?

I look down at the digital face of my watch, relief washing over me when I realize the graveside service is starting in less than 15 minutes. I just want to get it over with like everyone else. There’s a small tug on the arm of my black button-down and when I turn, I see Jordy’s dewy, airbrushed face and overly smoky eyes at my shoulder.

On any other day, I’d probably have a different response, but right now I just want to get through this and not cause a scene at Evie’s funeral.

“How are you doing?” she asks, smoothing her long, straight platinum blonde hair that spills over her shoulders onto her peacock blue dress.

I don’t answer, shifting my gaze and suddenly locking eyes with Adrian. His eyes dart to Jordy and he shoots me a warning look before turning back to his conversation with Scott.

Jordy leans in, her amber fragrance assaulting my senses. “How’s Col doing?” she asks, glancing his way.

“Better now, I imagine.”

“Yeah,” she snickers, “Bryce can’t shut up about him. I feel like I know more about Col now than I do you .”

“Close friends now?” My tone drips with sarcasm. “Too bad he already knows about you.”

As expected, she ignores my snipe. “He’s much more open than you are, even if he is psychotic.”

I peer down at her with a smirk. “Even psychos have standards.”

I’m finished with this conversation, stepping away as soon as Scott motions to the four of us as well as Josh and Rory. Five minutes later, we’re making our way out of the church, fulfilling the dreaded yet necessary duty of carrying Evie down the hill to the gravesite.

Her casket is lighter than I anticipated, and I don’t want to even think about what that means. I know she doesn’t look like any other deceased person. I know she doesn’t look like my mom, who looked so much like she was asleep that my dad had to sit with me for an hour right next to her until I was convinced that she wouldn’t wake up.

“Fucking Christ…” Aiden mutters, glancing over his shoulder to the top of the hill.

I squint as a small group begins descending the hill behind us. Tate Garrison leads the way in dress uniform with Hildy, Bowen, and their parents, followed by the Rhinehardts. Jay’s brother, Wells, and their father are in uniform, probably because they’re still on duty.

Jay clasps Hildy’s hand as they descend the grassy slope toward the tent set up amongst the headstones. Her short, dark chocolate hair hangs over her ears in waves, and she’s wearing a knee-length red dress with long, flowing sleeves.

Upon arriving at the tent, they appear to steer clear of the Maguires and Lutzes, remaining on the opposite side of Evie’s casket. And they should. All of them have some fucking balls showing up here. Colson, Dallas, their mom, Christy, Scott and Evie’s mom and stepdad take their places in the white folding chairs up front while I join Adrian just behind them with Mason and his parents. Aiden stands on the edge with Sydney, his jaw set in his quintessential aloof expression.

Still at Aiden’s side, Sydney glances to her right, locking eyes with a dark figure arriving under the shadow of the tent. The elder Rafferty comes to a halt next to her, dressed in an immaculate black suit with perfectly styled black hair. His five o’clock shadow is also immaculate, the same as it always is—no thicker, no thinner. He gives Sydney a once over, the corner of his mouth curling into a serpentine smirk. He has the same sharp jawline as Aiden, making him look just as menacing. The genes are strong with the Raffertys.

Still, Sydney holds his gaze, returning him a stone-cold look. And when she finally turns away, it’s with utter disdain. Her demeanor changes slightly when Aiden turns to her. This time, when she sees him, her face softens and she seems to relax even though she still looks like she’s sucking on a lemon.

As the service begins, I notice the only person Aiden acknowledges is Jay Rhinehardt who, by contrast, Sydney blatantly ignores no matter how many times his gaze falls on her. He's playing with fire, and he should’ve already learned his lesson. Hildy clings to Jay’s arm, looking more than a little upset. I guess she should—Evie was her best friend, after all. All the same, I wonder if Evie knew who she was dealing with or if Hildy had her fooled, too.

I keep a close eye on Colson, his arm wrapped around Dallas as she leans into his side. He’s sitting perfectly still, staring over Evie’s casket at Bowen. I still can’t believe that piece of shit is here. I can’t imagine how Col’s keeping it together, watching his sister’s murderer pretend to cry over her casket. And when I say keeping it together , what I really mean is he’s sitting still instead of tearing Bowen’s throat open on top of Evie’s remains.

I barely hear anything of the service. All of us know who Evie was, and it can’t be fully conveyed in a few minutes next to her grave. I also just hate funerals, for obvious reasons. I won’t leave here until Colson does, but that doesn’t mean I’m not about to crawl out of my skin. Which is why relief washes over me when the minister stops talking and people start rising from chairs and slowly migrating back toward the hillside.

Colson whispers something in Mason’s ear and he nods for us to head back up to the church while Colson remains at Evie’s casket. Aiden’s father is gone, vanished into thin air, much like he does on a regular basis.

Just then, Aiden’s voice slices through the silence, “Let’s go.”

I follow his eyes, still trained on Jay Rhinehardt as he and Hildy follow Wells and his parents across the lawn. Without a word, Mason steps behind Sydney and I take her right while she stays close on Aiden's left.

As we climb the hill, Sydney casts me a weak smile, “I know what you're doing,” she murmurs, “and thank you.”

I'd be shocked if she didn't send a thank you note to each of us after this. Because that's how she is. But it's choreography, a meticulously executed plan to make sure no one here gets close to her who shouldn't. Sydney might hate Aiden with every fiber of her being, but she's been here long enough now to know when his particular brand of crazy can be useful. One mistake was already made, not to be repeated again.

By the time we reach the top of the hill, people are dispersing into the parking lot and cars begin pulling away. Adrian smacks the back of my shoulder and tells me he’ll see me at home before heading for his Ram. I catch sight of Christy and Scott standing under the trees near the church, hugging and speaking to people as they leave. Dallas stands off to the side, glancing at her phone every few minutes, looking like she can’t wait to get out of here.

I can’t blame her. It’s amazing how such a beautiful spring day can be nothing but abject misery. I let my eyes wander until they fall on Mason, who’s staring down the hill at the gravesite. Two figures remain, standing side by side next to Evie’s casket. One is Colson, and when I look closer, I realize the other is Bowen. Both of us watch intently until, suddenly, there’s a flash of movement.

“ Col! ” Mason’s voice thunders and he grabs my shoulder, pulling me after him as he takes off down the hill.

Sprinting across the grass, I finally see Colson and Bowen on the ground, going at each other like a couple of rabid dogs.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Mason skids to a stop, and so do I. Colson is on top of Bowen, beating him bloody. Colson’s face is smeared with blood and the front of his royal blue shirt is dotted with dark spatter. They’re evenly matched, and as long as he has the upper hand, neither of us are going to lift a finger to stop this.

But a few seconds later, as soon as Bowen rolls on top of Colson, we lunge across the grass and start trying to break it up. By that time, everyone’s heard the commotion and both Josh and Rory come flying off the hill to help us pry Colson and Bowen apart. Scott, Jay, Wells, and Jay’s father soon appear, all descending on whatever poor sap’s grave they’re brawling on top of. And, soon enough, Tate comes barreling down the hill, too.

Colson and Bowen give no sign that they’re done, clawing at each other for a better grip while eight men try to drag them apart. Everyone is yelling, there’s blood everywhere, and finally Mason wedges himself between them enough to loosen their grips.

“What the hell is going on here?” Tate bellows, shooting scornful looks at both Colson and Bowen.

Neither of them responds, only continue to snarl at one another over the bodies holding them back. Then I hear Hildy’s grating voice somewhere among the chaos.

“Are you serious, Colson?” she screeches from behind Tate.

“Why are you even here?” I shout, trying to maintain my death grip around Colson’s waist.

“Because Evie’s my best friend,” she spits, her voice dripping with attitude, “why are you here?”

“Because we didn’t murder Evie like your brother did,” Mason growls back from between Colson and Bowen.

At that, Hildy lunges at Mason, but Wells swings his arm out and catches her around the waist. He lifts her up, legs still pumping in the air as she flails to escape his hold. And as soon as Wells lets go of Bowen, he tries to come at Colson again. This only makes Colson do the same, until we’re all pinned against a large headstone trying to keep hold of him.

“Leash your bitch, Rhinehardt!” Mason shouts at Jay.

Jay shoves Bowen out of the way, but before he can close the space, Tate steps in his way and points a finger in his face with a warning look. Right then, a few sets of flashing lights appear at the edge of the parking lot. An ambulance and two Canaan police SUVs park at the edge of the lot, much to Tate’s chagrin. Apparently, someone thought they might need backup.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Tate barks before turning to Jay and his father. “Get them out of here and get Bowen checked out.” Then he turns back to us and motions to Colson. “Get him back up there and calm him down. And I swear, if anyone else loses their shit, I will place you under arrest.”

Scott, Rory, Josh, and I keep hold of Colson and start guiding him back up the hill. His face is frozen in a scowl, scarlet blood smeared across his face like war paint. He doesn’t take his eyes off Bowen until we reach the top where Dallas is standing with Christy, her hands clasped in front of her mouth as they watch the shit show.

It’s only when we pass the ambulance and continue on to Scott’s truck that I realize none of the blood is Colson’s. There are no lacerations or cuts on him, only welts from the blows Bowen got in.

“Oh my god, Colson. Is he alright?” Christy asks Scott frantically.

“He’s fine,” Scott says with an impressive amount of nonchalance, “you all stay and wrap things up, I’ll take him home.”

Christy doesn’t argue, probably deciding she’d rather tie up the loose ends of her stepdaughter’s funeral rather than deal with her son’s violent outburst in the middle of the cemetery. If Colson’s allowed to leave, it’s a good indication he won’t be arrested.

After piling Colson into the front seat and making sure he doesn’t try to escape to continue the fight, we walk with Christy and Dallas back to the church. Mason and I come to a halt at the sidewalk where Aiden and Sydney are, having also witnessed the chaos. Unsurprisingly, Aiden wasn’t going to take any chances leaving Sydney alone. Besides, he probably hoped that Colson would kill Bowen and take out at least one Rhinehardt while he was at it.

Christy extends her arms to Mason. “Thank you, boys,” she sighs as he leans down to receive her hug. “You’re good friends—to both Colson and Evie.”

I never realized how similar Christy and Dallas actually look, with the same small stature, blue eyes, round faces, and full lips that stretch into wide smiles that reach the corners of their eyes. Not that either of them are smiling now.

Christy turns to me, wrapping me in her embrace. “Colson will be fine,” she nods, “he’ll be fine.” The way she says it makes it sound like she’s trying to convince herself more than us.

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” I reassure her as she gives me a final squeeze.

“I know you will,” she smiles, “especially you.” Then she casts Mason and Aiden a sideways glance. “And you two—don’t get him in any more trouble.”

“Christy,” Aiden scoffs, “I resent that, especially from you.”

That’s rich, I smile to myself. I can’t decide whether Colson’s mom is that na?ve or just in denial; she has to know that half the shit we get into is Colson’s fault. All the same, no one is going to correct her, even Aiden who would normally bristle at anyone attempting to hug him. But he lets Christy, and for a split second, I think he might be hugging her back.

“Oh, Aiden, you shouldn’t lie,” she sighs, “especially in the parking lot of a church.”

Then she pivots to Sydney in the midst of our snickering. “I don’t know what to say, if you can’t be a good influence on him, then all hope is lost.”

A pained look crosses Sydney’s face as she hugs Christy. But as soon as she lets go, it’s replaced with her usual warm smile. Standing a few feet back, Dallas briefly catches my eye, which seems to break her out of her listless stare. But, just like in school, she immediately drops her head and looks away until she can follow her mom back to the church.

“Well, now that the excitement’s over,” Aiden squints, gazing off into the distance, “let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Pull around,” I say. “We’ll stay here.”

Aiden turns on his heel and starts across the lot toward his Lexus, leaving us on the sidewalk.

“Please let me know if Colson’s alright,” Sydney says. “You know, whether he’s hurt or not,” she clarifies, because we all know he is not alright.

Before I can respond, a voice calls out in the distance. “Sydney!”

Sydney turns toward the source with a startled look and then immediately turns away and steps to the curb impatiently. Mason and I step out from behind the oak in time to see Jay coming down the sidewalk. But as soon as he sees us, he comes to a halt at the church steps.

Jay’s smart enough not to come any closer, and looks on as Aiden squeals to a stop and throws open the driver’s side door. He rounds the front of the car, glaring at Jay as Sydney opens the passenger door and ducks into the front seat.

“What the fuck do you have to say to her?” Aiden demands.

Motionless, Jay’s eyes dart back and forth between Aiden and the Lexus, further incensing him.

“Hey,” Aiden barks, getting Jay’s attention, “you look at her one more time, I promise you’ll be blind by morning.”

They stare at one another for a few more moments before Aiden finally turns and heads back to the driver’s side. He disappears inside and slams the door before squealing out of the parking lot. But when Mason and I look back, Jay’s already disappearing around the corner back from where he came.

I’m slightly surprised the interaction ends so abruptly, given the circumstances. But, then again, maybe there’s been enough bloodshed today. At least I’m wearing black; it makes it nearly impossible to see the streaks of Bowen’s blood smeared across my chest.

Or maybe Jay knows the score, just like the rest of us, and he doesn’t want to end up the next one whose rotting corpse ends up in the woods.