I looked at the grave and at the grass that covered it. “This baby . . . this is . . .”
“Lane,” my father sorrowfully said, “this is Kale’s son.”
My eyes grew blurry, but when I looked at the gravestone once more, I could make out a single sentence that completely destroyed me: “In loving memory of Kaden Hunt.”
CHAPTER SIX
Thirteen years old (thirteen years ago)
Where is Kale?” my Uncle Harry asked as I pulled on my brand-new leather ankle boots that my mum bought me for fifty per cent off in River Island. They were the cutest boots I had ever seen and possibly were the most fashionable, trendy item of clothing that I owned.
“Lane,” my uncle chuckled, “are you listening to me?”
I looked up when I got both of my boots zipped up, and for a moment I just stared at my uncle. Aside from Kale, he was definitely my favourite person. He was, quite literally, the coolest uncle I could have ever been blessed with. He was like a best friend to me – no, scratch that, he was a best friend to me. We hung out all the time and did a bunch of stuff together. He brought me fishing – which I didn’t like; the quiet time with him was the only reason I went along – and bowling and a million other places that don’t seem fun, but were brilliant because my uncle was the one sharing the experience with me.
My Uncle Harry was my mother’s twin; he was older than her by five minutes, a fact that he liked to remind her about often. And the reason I was so close to him was because they were so close. They saw each other every single day, and I mean that literally. My father had even become close to my uncle; it got to the point where they hung out all the time too. He lived only five minutes away from our house, so I was round at his place just as much as he was around at ours.
I made sure I went round to him every day, even if it was just to say hello, because I didn’t want him to be alone. He was only forty-one years old, but had to endure one of the hardest things a man would ever have to do. Last year he had to bury his wife, my Aunt Teresa. She had breast cancer and didn’t even get a chance to fight it because she found out when it was too late.
I didn’t like to think about her, because it made me miss her. We hadn’t been very close because she was only in my life for a few short years before she died, and I was too young then to make time for her, but I knew my Uncle Harry loved her very much, and that saddened me because I knew he felt lost without her.
I personally thought my Uncle Harry was the bravest man to ever walk the earth because I loved Kale with all of my heart, and I wasn’t even married to him. If he died, I think I would die too because I would be too sad to live without him. That’s how I knew I could never be as great as my uncle – because I could never be as strong as he was. It took a lot of strength to live on without someone you loved as much as he loved my Aunt Teresa. It made me idolise him.
“Lane,” his voice prompted.
I blinked. “Sorry, what?”
My uncle laughed and shook his head. “Where. Is. Kale?”
I rolled my eyes. “Where do you think he is?”
My uncle was silent for only a moment before he said, “With your brothers.”
I wish.
I huffed. “He is with Drew. He is always with her, he never spends time with me or my brothers anymore.”
That was a lie; he still hung out with my brothers. It was me who was getting the elbow recently. I just thought saying that my brothers didn’t receive any of his time either made me sound a little less pathetic.
My uncle’s low rumbling chuckle irked me. I turned to face him and folded my arms across my chest. “It’s not funny, Uncle Harry.”
He smiled lovingly at me. “I’m not laughing at your distress, sweetheart, I’m laughing at your attitude. You remind me of your mother when we were your age.”
I do?
I beamed. “She was also fabulous with brains to burn?”
My uncle laughed loudly, and it brought a smile to my face. I loved his laugh.
“She liked to think so,” he said, shaking his head good-naturedly.
I felt my smile fall as I sighed. “I’m sorry for being snarky. I’m just . . . annoyed.”
My uncle kept his focus on me. “Why?” he quizzed.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
The corners of my uncle’s eyes creased slightly as he said, “Yeah, darling, you do.”
I gnawed on my lower lip, looked at my uncle and then to my feet. I felt my stomach churn as the realisation of what I was about to say hit me.
“I’m jealous,” I admitted, still looking down. “I like Kale. I like him as more than a friend, and I hate it because it means I’m always going to be stuck next to him watching him be with older, prettier girls. It sucks, Uncle Harry. It sucks arse.”