Kong watched her intently as the casket was lowered into the ground. Mac’s service had been touching in the most surprising ways. She thought it would be a small funeral, but half the town had shown up. She wasn’t doing this alone as she’d feared. She had Kong beside her and the Gray Backs in a somber line behind her. Willa stood on her other side, holding her hand and dabbing her eyes. Jake stood across the lowering, glossed mahogany casket with a sympathetic smile. Barney was here, and even Jackson had shown up to pay his respects. The nurses were all here, and beside a tree in the distance, Kirk leaned against the trunk, dressed in a black suit like Kong’s. The Ashe Crew and the Boarlanders had come, too, and this morning when she’d checked her mail, there was a postcard from Mom and Dad saying how sorry they were about Mac passing. She’d put it up on the fridge with the others.
The funeral-goers drifted back to their cars, but Kong and the Gray Backs stayed with her until the casket hit dirt. Mac was buried by his Gloria now, just like he’d always wanted. And in a few days, when they laid sod over his grave, Layla would come out and water the grass and put fresh flowers on their headstones because that’s what made her feel close to them. Cemeteries weren’t for the dead. They were for the living so they could still feel connected to their loved ones somehow.
“You ready to go home?” Kong asked low.
Home. She frowned at the stream of people clad in black who were walking down the hill toward the line of cars below. She hadn’t ever felt at home in her apartment, and Kong’s cabin wasn’t home. 1010 was safe and comfortable, but three days and three nights wasn’t long enough for a place to feel like home. The only home that meant anything was Mac’s house, but that was going to be sold at auction.
Everything felt so different now, off-kilter and strange, as if it wasn’t really her life, but someone else’s. She was mated to Kong, and she’d fallen heart-first into the Gray Back Crew who had been there for her in such unexpected ways over the last few days. In a matter of a week, everything real in her old life had disappeared, and everything else had drawn up into fine focus.
Kong was still waiting on her answer with a worried look in his soft brown eyes.
She smiled and nodded, then followed him toward his Camaro. His gait hitched slightly, thanks to a broken bone that hadn’t been reset in time, but other than that and a map of scars across his body, he had healed.
He opened her door and waited until she was inside, then he draped his suit jacket over her legs. While they followed the Gray Backs’ work trucks up the winding mountain roads, Kong’s hand stayed around hers, big and strong, steadying the shake in her fingers. His profile struck her as beautiful with the trees passing by and the storm clouds muting the light against his skin. High cheek bones, dark eyes to match dark brows to match dark hair he’d styled in a sexy, messy look today. His skin was tan compared to the white dress shirt that clung to his muscular shoulders. The top button was unbuttoned, and his black dress pants pressed against his powerful legs as he pushed down the gas on his rumbling hotrod.
Mine.
She smiled when her attention drifted to the Grayland Mobile Park sign over the white gravel road. It was a relief to drive under it, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps because nothing bad had happened here. There were no memories of Mac to haunt her like there were down in Saratoga. Stepping out of the car, she waved at Willa, Georgia, and Aviana who held down the hems of their black dresses as they scurried to their trailers with their mates.
Creed pulled little Rowan from her car seat and cradled her tightly against his chest, cooing as she fussed. Leaves swirled around his feet as he looked up with his ink-colored eyes, so much like Damon’s. “You tell us if you need anything,” he said to her before he turned to a waiting Gia and walked away with his daughter cuddled in his arms.
Kong’s fingertips were light as a feather against her lower back as he guided her up the porch stairs of 1010. He’d gone quiet lately. Dimmer. Like a lantern that was almost out of oil and struggling to stay lit. Mac’s death and the battle that followed weighed heavily on him.
“It’s not your fault, you know?” she murmured as she stepped into the bedroom and slipped out of her heels.
“Mmm,” Kong said noncommittally.
She unbuttoned his shirt slowly. “It’s not.”
Kong went still under her touch, his eyes somber as he stared at her. “I wanted things to be different.” His nose and lip twitched, a sign of the animal that lived beneath his skin. He did that when he was thinking hard about something. “I wish we could’ve dated, like other people. Movies, dinner, picnics…normal shit. Not all this heaviness. I didn’t want it to be a loss that bonded us, Layla.”