Page 21 of Twisted Truths (The Sunburnt Hearts #4)

Chapter Sixteen

NASH

I adjust my tie for the millionth time, tugging on it like it’s a noose around my neck. Dark sunglasses cover my eyes like a coat of armour, and I’ve never been more grateful for plastic in my life.

I’m standing on the steps of St Mary’s with Levi and Paige by my side.

Sawyer is fussing in her mum’s arms, but I’m too numb to care.

This is by far the worst day of my life.

How am I supposed to walk in there in front of the entire Barrenridge community and say goodbye to my family?

How am I supposed to do that when they all believe Zara is to blame for all of this?

“You ready?” Levi asks, patting me on the back.

No.

But that’s not an option.

Releasing a shaky exhale, I close the distance to the door of the church and push it open.

I’ve never been a religious man. Zara and I weren’t baptised as kids—I think Dalton honestly believed he was our only God. He certainly acted like it .

When Mum married Paul, however, they would attend the weekly services, and baptised Rylan on his first birthday, with Ziggy and I named as his godparents.

Ziggy sent me videos and photos from his reconciliation and First Eucharist, and he was due to undertake his Confirmation next month.

I hope it doesn’t stop him from being with Mum and Paul, wherever they are.

My worst nightmare is thinking Rylan’s alone and scared.

I hope they’re finally at peace after the violent way they all left this earth.

Father Malachi greets us and leads us out back to the conservatory, where the caskets are waiting.

I stare at the small one on the end, dwarfed by the others, a lump forming in my throat as Father Malachi goes over the order of today’s service.

I’m not paying any attention, but Paige’s reassuring tone offers a small comfort as she engages with him on my behalf.

The whole time I stand there thinking to myself, this isn’t happening . This can’t be happening. My little brother is not in there. Ziggy is not in there. Mum. Paul.

Levi’s mother comes in to collect Sawyer, wrapping me in a warm embrace and offering her condolences. She drove down from Sydney with her husband this morning to be here for her son.

Over time, the room fills with people. Paul’s best mate, Brendon, and a couple of guys he played cricket with.

Mum’s closest friends from university, Janine and Sally.

Two other ladies she had book club with here in Barrenridge, though they smile fondly as they tell me it was more of an excuse to drink wine and talk about their families.

I think I nod, but I’m honestly caught up in my own head.

The room continues to fill with those closest to my family.

I break when I see the four boys from Barrenridge primary school, standing stoic with their parents in the corner of the room. My little brother’s best friends shouldn’t be going through this.

None of us should be going through this.

In less than ten minutes, these people are going to help bring my family into the church for the final time.

As I watch, one of the boys, a kid with bright orange hair and freckles, sidles up beside the smallest casket and places his hand on the polished wood. Tears stream down his cheeks as he murmurs something for only him and my brother to hear.

Clearing my throat, I turn away.

While I need this day to be over, I also don’t want to say goodbye. It seems too final.

When Father Malachi returns to advise us it’s time, I cast another glance around the room filled with people. There’s no one here for Ziggy.

My heart twists.

How can everyone write her off so easily?

Don’t they remember the selfless girl who held a lemonade stand every day for a summer to raise money to build an accessibility ramp for Mrs Brenner after she had a stroke?

Who stayed after school to help, Ms Tamei, a single mum, clean the art equipment so she could pick her son up from daycare earlier?

Who spent three nights a week tutoring kids at Barrenridge Primary School? Have they forgotten all of that?

Paige’s soft sobs fill the space as “Fix You” by Coldplay plays and she steps behind Levi to grip the silver handle of Ziggy’s casket.

I take my place on the opposite side. It kills me Ziggy has no one left who believes in her.

She was such a bright spark in this crazy world, and now she’s essentially shunned by the community she gave so much to.

Paul’s casket is rolled towards the front of the church. Mum follows close behind. Then Rylan. We bring up the rear with Ziggy, and I keep my head held high. She is my sister, and I will always have her back.

Halfway down the nave, I feel a presence at my back. Swallowing hard, I turn my head, and my heart constricts when I see the vice president of the Ridge Riders gripping the handle of my sister’s casket. Rowan didn’t know her, but he knows what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Forcing myself to turn back to the front, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Once the caskets line the front of the church, I grip Rowan’s hand and pull him in for a brief hug, needing to let him know how much his act of kindness means.

He freezes, patting my back awkwardly, then heads back to his seat while I follow Levi and Paige to the front pew.

As we take our seats, Father Malachi steps forward and begins the service, his voice soft and heavy with practised sympathy.

The words drift around me—something about peace, eternal rest, divine will—but they scatter into static.

Divine will . How can this be brushed aside as the plan for my family’s life?

It was murder, plain and simple, and while the town thinks Ziggy is to blame, it only makes me more determined to clear her name.

I sit still, stiff, my body vibrating with an abundance of emotions. Grief. Anger. Pain. Sadness. Fear.

I’m alone. They’re all gone.

I’ll never hear Mum scolding me for bouncing the basketball in the house. I’ll never talk to Paul about sport. I’ll never hear Ziggy singing god-awful Taylor Swift ballads off-key. I’ll never get to play ball with Rylan.

They were all wiped out in one horrific night, leaving me shattered.

When Father Malachi calls my name, it takes a second to register. I blink, startled, when Paige reaches over and squeezes my hand.

I rise to my shaky feet, feeling like I’ve polished off a bottle of Jack all to myself. My legs feel like they belong to someone else as they carry me up the steps of the altar. I keep my gaze focused on the lectern, unable to look at the wooden boxes holding my family members.

My chest constricts as I stand in front of my hometown.

The pews are full to the point of overflowing, and people stand along the side aisles and crowd at the back of the church, spilling out into the atrium.

I clear my throat, the sound echoing through the expansive space.

Quiet sobs and sniffles sound in the background.

Someone coughs. None of it registers when I glance up and see the unmistakable auburn hair, fiery against a sea of black.

Hadley.

She’s sitting at the end of the final pew, her hands folded primly in her lap. While everyone around her has their heads bowed, her gaze is locked firmly on me. For a beat, I can breathe again.

She’s here.

I open my mouth to speak, but then I glance to her right and the words get stuck in my throat. My hands grip the wooden lectern to stop from shaking. Not from grief, but anger.

Sitting beside her like he belongs there, is Gabriel fucking Solomon. My stomach lurches. Fury floods in so fast it’s almost a relief. At least the anger makes me feel something.

My eyes drift back to Hadley. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth as she stares up at me, her green eyes rimmed in red. Clearing my throat again, I adjust the microphone before speaking .

“This should never have happened,” I begin, my voice rough, uneven. “They were … they were good people.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink furiously, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat. I stare down at the notes I wrote last night, all the letters blurring into an inky mess.

“Mum would hum along to Robbie Williams as she worked in the garden. It drove us nuts. Ziggy and I would hide the CD on her, but she would continue on without it. Paul would encourage her. I’ve never seen two people more in love.” My voice hitches, and I force my gaze away from Hadley.

She’s not good for me; I need to forget her.

Instead, I stare down at the jumble of words in front of me, even though I can’t read them.

“Mum used to tell me, love’s not about finding the perfect person, it’s about finding someone who sees your mess and stays anyway.

Paul was that person for her. He willingly took on a grumpy teenage boy with a chip on his shoulder, and a cheeky pre-teen girl who asked a million questions before breakfast. Nothing was ever forced with Paul.

He showed up day after day, until we became a family. ”

The words fall from my lips, raw and unfiltered.

“Then Rylan came along. He was eleven years younger than Zig, twelve years younger than me, but man, we loved the shit out of that kid. Ry was the missing piece who completed our family.” I close my eyes, taking a couple of steadying breaths.

This is fucking torture.

This is so fucking wrong.

I should not be standing here giving a eulogy for my little brother.

It takes me a few minutes to compose myself, my heavy breathing magnified by the damn microphone.

But I have to do this .

I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.

For them.