Page 43 of Until the Storm Breaks (The Midnight Men #1)

“Susan Midnight was a force,” I begin, my voice rougher than I want it to be.

“She raised five boys with equal parts love and boxing gloves. She ran a bar, ran a household, ran our lives even when we thought we were grown. She made a life here, on this bluff, in this house that’s seen our highest and lowest moments. ”

I pause, looking out at the faces watching me. At my brothers, each carrying their own grief. At Maren, steady and sure.

“She made us into men who could try to do the same. To build something. To stay when it gets hard. To love even when it hurts.” My voice cracks. “To forgive, especially ourselves.”

Dominic steps forward with the urn. We move to the edge of the bluff, all five of us, brothers despite everything. The Sound stretches endlessly before us, gray-blue and eternal, waiting.

“To Susan Midnight,” Jack says simply. “Who loved us all better than we deserved.”

Together, we tip the urn, watching the wind catch her ashes and carry them out over the water she loved. Chloe steps forward, throws her daisy as hard as her little arm can manage. It flutters down, a spot of yellow against the blue.

“Bye, Grandma,” she whispers.

We stand there for a long moment, nobody ready to move, to admit it’s over. The crowd behind us is silent except for quiet crying, the rustle of tissues. The wind picks up again, carrying the last visible traces of ash out to sea.

Slowly, people begin to approach us. Dolores Henderson touches my arm, murmuring something about Susan’s kindness.

Eddie grips my shoulder briefly, no words needed.

Laila weaves through the crowd, accepting gentle pats from familiar hands.

The brothers and I separate naturally, each pulled into different conversations, different memories being shared.

Through the small crowd, I spot Maren and make my way over to her, needing the anchor of her presence.

“Hey,” she says softly when I reach her, immediately taking my hand. “That was beautiful. Your speech.”

“I forgot half of what I wanted to say,” I admit.

“You said what mattered.” She squeezes my hand.

We stand together as people start drifting toward their cars, talking about heading to the bar. Maren’s thumb traces circles on my palm, keeping me grounded.

That’s when I notice someone walking up from the parking area. A man in an expensive suit, completely out of place here, walking with the kind of confidence that says he’s used to getting what he wants.

“Mr. Midnight,” he calls out, approaching with his hand extended like this is a business meeting. “Cole Landry, Verdant State Wellness Group. I know this isn’t ideal timing, but I wanted to pay my respects. Your mother’s property is legendary in development circles.”

The name clicks. This is the buyer. The wellness retreat developer Dominic is trying to sell to. Here. Now. At Mom’s memorial.

“You need to leave,” I say, not taking his hand. Maren’s grip on mine tightens.

Dominic appears, moving quickly through the remaining guests who are starting to drift toward their cars. “Cole, what are you doing here? The site visit is tomorrow.”

“I wanted to pay my respects,” Cole says smoothly. “I was in the area.”

The casual way he links Mom’s death to his business opportunity makes me want to hit him. Just clock him right here in front of everyone. But I know Mom would hate that.

“The Midnight Wellness Retreat will be special,” he continues, gesturing at the bluff like he already owns it. “This view, the history, it’s perfect for our vision.”

I can feel my brothers moving closer even before I see them. Jack and Alex walking over from where they’d been saying goodbye to guests. Theo following with Chloe still in his arms.

“Get out.” Jack’s voice is sharp. “Now.”

“Gentlemen, we’re very close to finalizing—”

“You’re leaving,” Alex says, taking position beside Jack. His usual easy smile is gone completely.

Cole looks around at all five of us now, then focuses on Dominic. “Dom, help me out here.”

Dominic pauses. “You need to leave. Now. This was completely inappropriate.”

Cole stands there for a moment, confidence finally cracking. “I’ll call later about tomorrow. My condolences.”

He walks to his Tesla without hurrying, trying to salvage some dignity. The arrogance of it, the fact that he thinks this is just a minor setback in his business deal, makes my whole body tense. Maren must feel it because she steps closer, her other hand coming to rest on my arm.

As people resume heading to their cars, Dominic turns to us. His face is flushed, whether from anger or embarrassment I can’t tell. Theo quietly says something to Chloe about going to look at the flowers people brought, walking her a little distance away so she’s out of earshot.

“I didn’t know he was coming today,” Dominic says once Chloe’s far enough away, his tone clipped. “Obviously that was inappropriate timing on his part. But let’s not be dramatic, all right? I said I’d look into your alternatives.”

The dismissive way he says it, like we’re overreacting to Cole showing up at Mom’s memorial.

Like we’re being the unreasonable ones. Dominic’s always been like this, treating emotion as weakness, treating business as more important than everything else.

But this isn’t the time or place for the fight we need to have.

Mom’s friends are trying to leave peacefully.

Theo’s keeping Chloe distracted. Sometimes being the better man means walking away, even when your brother is being an ass.

Jack steps forward slightly. “That wasn’t a mistake, Dom. Guy knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Let’s just go to the bar,” I say before Dominic can respond, glancing at Maren beside me and taking her hand. “We’ll handle this later. Mom would want us all together right now, not fighting in front of everyone.”

Dominic looks like he wants to say more, but he just adjusts his cuffs, that nervous tell he’s had since high school.

Theo walks back over with Chloe, who’s now clutching a handful of wildflowers. “Ready to go see friends?” he asks her brightly.

“And Uncle Alex’s special mac and cheese,” Alex adds, steering us all toward normal. “Remember how much you liked it last time?”

“With the crispy top?” Chloe asks, perking up.

“Extra crispy, just for you,” Alex promises.

We move toward our vehicles, the moment passing without the explosion it could have been.

Maren squeezes my hand as we walk to the truck, and I know she understands what it cost me to not engage with Dominic right then.

To be the adult Mom would have wanted me to be, even when my brother makes it nearly impossible.

The Black Lantern is packed by the time we arrive, warm bodies and voices filling every corner.

Maren and Lark have transformed it into exactly what Mom would have wanted.

Pictures of her cover the walls—young Susan with baby Dominic, the five of us at various ages looking scrappy and loved, her and Dad on their wedding day.

Her favorite Motown plays just loud enough to be heard under the conversations.

Flowers sit on every surface, wildflowers mostly, the kind she used to pick on her walks.

The beer is flowing freely, Theo and Alex’s food covers every available surface, and the stories have already started. I can hear Eddie by the pool table telling his favorite Susan story to anyone who’ll listen.

“Five bikers,” he’s saying, gesturing wildly with his beer. “Big ones. All leather and attitude. And Susan just pointed to the door and said ‘Out.’ No explanation, no argument. And they went! Like scolded schoolboys.”

Jack and I make our way to the bar together, weaving through the crowd.

People touch my arm as we pass, murmuring condolences, sharing quick memories.

Mrs. Patterson tells me about Susan bringing soup when her husband was sick.

Tom mentions how she taught him to play chess during his divorce, giving him something to focus on besides anger.

At the bar, Lark is pulling beers with her usual efficiency despite the crowd three deep. She spots us and works her way over.

“Hey guys,” she says, already reaching for glasses. “Beer?”

“Please,” I say. “It’s a zoo in here.”

“Susan would love it,” Lark says, pulling two pints. “This is exactly what she wanted. People together, telling stories, probably drinking too much.”

“How’s the ankle?” Jack asks, leaning against the bar.

“Basically healed,” she says, sliding our beers across. “Though I’m milking it for all the sympathy I can get. Yesterday Betty brought me cookies because she felt bad about my ‘terrible injury.’”

“Strategic,” Jack says, grinning. “I respect that. What kind of cookies?”

“Snickerdoodles. Worth the limp, honestly.”

“I once faked a stomach bug to get out of a sponsor event,” Jack admits. “Spent the whole day eating room service and watching terrible reality TV instead.”

“What show?” Lark asks, and she’s leaning on the bar now.

“Love Island. The British version. I have no excuse.”

She laughs. “So underneath all that European racing glamour, you’re just trash TV and room service?”

“Don’t forget the snacks,” Jack says. “Very expensive snacks charged to the team.”

“Now I know you’re the real deal,” Lark says. “Living the dream.”

I clear my throat. They both turn to me with identical startled expressions, like they’d completely forgotten I existed. Which is amusing, considering I’ve been standing here the whole time.

“I should go find Theo,” I tell Jack, grabbing the beer that Lark slides to me and trying not to smile at how they immediately drift back toward each other even while looking at me. “You good here?”

“I’m great,” he says, already turning back to Lark. “Really great.”

Lark rolls her eyes but she’s fighting a smile. “Go mourn properly,” she tells me. “I’ll keep an eye on this one. Make sure he doesn’t steal the good tequila.”

“Only the medium-good tequila,” Jack promises.