His To Love Part 25

I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to rewind the last hour, changing it. I just lost Tyson and my mom in a matter of moments. I didn't reply. I turned from Malik, jerked out of his light touch and closed my eyes.

The back of his knuckles brushed across my temple. "I'll let you say your goodbyes."

In my peripheral vision, I saw him stand up and move toward the doorway. As he reached it, he clasped my father's hand and leaned in. After exchanging murmured words I couldn't hear, both men embraced in that handshake-back-clap way men did. Then Malik pulled away and glanced at me. "I apologize for my part in this tonight, Gabriella, but you needed to know."

I nodded numbly. Everyone thought I needed to know things, and yet no one told me when it would matter. Tyson's last warning about his case that was ending soon flashed through my mind but I pushed it down. Now wasn't the time to worry about it. I looked away from Malik as he left the room, and I turned to see my mother's body lying p.r.o.ne on her bed.

Just where I had held her days ago.

More pain pierced my chest as I saw her, really saw her.

So still.

So pale.

I scrambled to my feet and climbed onto the bed.

"Mom," I sobbed through a raw voice as soon as I was next to her. My hand slid down her shoulder and I shifted so I was lying on my side. Her eyes were closed and her skin was already cool to the touch, making me cry even harder.

Not caring and not even thinking about my father, and what he thought of me in that moment, I wrapped my arm around her cool stomach and pressed my cheek to her shoulder. There, I closed my eyes and held my mom for what I now knew, would be the very last time.

And I sobbed against her throat, my entire body shaking and trembling with tears and sadness and a pain that had lanced itself so deep I didn't know if I'd ever be able to dig it out.

I stayed like that until my father's warm hands curved around my shoulder, turned me away from my mom, and he whispered, "It's time to let her go."

- It was well after midnight when I sat in the formal living room at my parents' house. Clarissa had been busy, waiting on everyone in the house who still remained.

My mother was long gone, carried out of the house on a stretcher with a sheet fully covering her. I lost it again, sinking to my knees and was once again picked up by Malik and carried to where I was now.

I had no idea if he was still in the house, and I didn't care.

"More coffee?" Clarissa asked, holding a stainless steel carafe in front of me. I held out my cup and allowed her to fill it.

I didn't remember even drinking the first cup she gave me.

"You must eat," she whispered, and my eyes flickered to hers. When I met her gaze, I could only see unadulterated pain so I looked away.

I'd been staring at an empty fireplace for who knows how long with absolutely no thought in my head. The entire mood in the house was just as somber, just as mournful.

Clarissa sighed and walked away.

She returned quickly with my clutch in my bag and held it out for me. "Malik brought this in for you before he left," she said. "Your phone has been buzzing for the past twenty minutes."

I glanced at my clutch and nodded. When I made no move to take it from her hand, she set it in my lap.

This time as she walked away, I turned to her. "Clarissa?" I asked, and she looked back at me over her shoulder. "I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"We never do, bella." Her lips tilted down at the edges and I saw her chin quiver with emotion. "I made your bed in your old room for you if you want to stay the night."

I didn't. I wanted to flee from this house and forget all the misery it had brought me. I also didn't want to be alone.

And now, the one person who could have helped was also part of my pain.

My phone buzzed again, vibrating against my thigh. I took it out and saw Blackbird on the screen. I stared at his picture, one I'd taken of us when we had gone for a walk around his neighborhood. His cheek was pressed to my temple, and we were both grinning as I snapped the selfie. My phone stopped ringing and the photo disappeared. Then my thumb slid to the b.u.t.ton on the top. I powered down my phone and threw it back into my purse.

- "Are we done yet? I'm exhausted and I've told you everything I know."

My father and Malik had been questioning me for the last two hours. They wanted to know what Tyson and I discussed during every conversation, what we did when we saw each other. My father's cheeks turned dark purple when I looked at him with wide eyes and asked him if he really wanted details of his daughter's s.e.x life.

As if his blatant disappointment and fury weren't apparent enough before.

Malik quickly stepped in, wanting to know where we went, who else we spoke to. I had no information to give them, insisting that we didn't talk about them-other than the night when I agreed to attend the benefit with Malik. I repeated what I had told Tyson about Malik taking over my father's business, but I couldn't recall anything else I'd said.

Although that admission alone seemed to be damaging enough. Both of them sucked in a harsh breath and then cursed up a storm.

I answered everything they asked me, not feeling any of it. Then I tried not to think of what would happen if they got their hands on Tyson.

I woke up this morning electing not to give a thought to Tyson Blackwell beyond anything that was absolutely necessary, like this conversation.

My father slowly perused me, and I could practically feel his distaste for me from across the room. He sneered and sat down at the chair at his desk. "Go. And try to not bring any further humiliation to your family in the next hour."

"I didn't mean to," I mumbled. My hands balled into fists and I jumped at a loud noise.

My head snapped up and I saw my father's fist on top of his desk. "Ten years ago I sent you away due to your sick fascination with a family who wanted nothing else than to bring this family-your family-down. How you can be so nave and stupid to think that Blackwell wouldn't join his father's crusade is beyond me."

"He told me he was a lawyer!" I all but shouted the words, though they were useless. We'd been over this ad nauseam.

"And this is why we look into people."

"Fine." I waved my hand in his direction and turned around. I caught Malik's gaze before he looked away from me. Even to him, I was now worthless. "I get it. I'll meet you in the entryway later so we can go to the funeral home."

We were supposed to be leaving in an hour and I was desperate to escape his office. The mention of my mother and our agenda for the day ahead fell like a lead weight in the room.

"Very well," my father said as I walked away. But it was the first time I heard emotion in his voice that wasn't disgust or anger.

I was just barely around the corner from his office before tears fell on my face.

"Gabriella," Malik called as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

He walked toward me once I paused. Then he slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. He casually leaned against the banister. "Your father and I have been working for two years on my slow takeover of his organization. We've done everything possible to keep this quiet from his enemies and anyone who can't be fully trusted. The fact that you've now spilled his greatest secret to the FBI is detrimental in ways you can't begin to comprehend."

"I get it." I brushed tears off my cheeks and looked away. "But I've already apologized and it wasn't done maliciously."

Sadness flashed in his eyes when he said, "It is bad enough for a man to lose his wife, but this is simply something he doesn't need to be dealing with right now. Perhaps in time, he'll grow to be less angry with you, but for now, you need to understand he's just lost the only person he's ever cared about."

I flinched and looked away. "I get that, Malik, I do. But you realize that you've just said my father has only loved one person...and this whole time he's had a daughter who's wanted nothing but that from him. I might not understand the pain of losing a spouse, but I do understand the pain of losing a love you so desperately want."

I walked away, leaving him with more sadness in his eyes, but with my point also made.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked down to the main floor and a small ache gripped my chest. Malik was still standing there, his eyes on me, but his gaze and thoughts were clearly far away. With a small nod of his head, he pushed off the railing and walked away, leaving me feeling as small as a mouse.

When I was done in the bedroom, my limbs weighted with grief, I went to the entryway simply dressed in jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt. I had no idea how my father managed to get all my clothes from the hotel, but when I woke up in my childhood room that morning, everything was hanging nice and neat in my closet. I hadn't even heard anyone enter my room, much less spend the time organizing three suitcases full of clothes and bath accessories.

I fished through my purse, searching for my phone. Ignoring the several missed calls and text messages from Tyson, I quickly slid through my contacts and pressed "call" when I found Eleanor's name.

Tears were already falling down my cheeks, my voice barely audible, when she answered.

"Gabriella?" she asked when I didn't answer the first time she said my name.

A choked sob ripped from my throat and I gripped the phone tighter. "Eleanor," I said, my grief and sadness apparent.

She gasped, and I closed my eyes, practically able to see the wretched expression on her face. "Oh no." Several moments pa.s.sed while I listened to her cry. "When?"

"Last night."

My eyes snapped up and I saw my father come into the entryway. Claude hurried past my father and opened the front door. I followed reluctantly as Eleanor said, "I'll be there by tonight. Just let me pack and get a flight."

"I need you," I whispered, feeling selfish for admitting it to her.

Her kind voice replied, "And I'll be there for you. By tonight."

I nodded at her promise and ended the phone call, slipping my phone back into my purse.

"Aunt Eleanor," I muttered to my father once we were seated in the back of his town car. "I didn't know if anyone had called her yet, but she's on her way."

His gaze stayed fixed on the window, unwilling to spare me a glance. "Thank you for calling her," he finally said.

We spent the rest of the short drive to the funeral home in silence, lost in our own thoughts, our own memories of a woman who loved hugely but quietly.

For the next several hours, my father and I sat next to each other at the funeral home, going through all of my mother's final wishes to make sure everything for her viewing and funeral would be done according to her specifics. The fact that my mom had even planned her own funeral made me dig my nails into the palms of my hands so I wouldn't lose it. My father was stone cold the entire time, a block of ice issuing demands and not taking no for an answer.

By the time we returned to the house, I barely mustered up the energy to walk up the stairs and collapse onto my bed. Just as my eyes closed, the heaviness of the day pulling me toward sleep, my phone began buzzing in my purse. Half asleep, I dug it out of my purse and cried when I saw a text message from Tyson along with several more missed calls.

Blackbird: We need to talk.

My fingers flew across the keypad.

Me: Never again.

Blackbird: Let me explain.

Me: Are you in the FBI?

Blackbird: Yes. I need to see you.

I laughed out loud and shook my head.

Me: I will never see you again.

Blackbird: There are things you need to know. Trust me, Blue. I'm looking out for you here.

That was rich. I stared at the text message. As if I could trust him again.

Me: Go to h.e.l.l.

Before he could reply, I turned off my ringer and dropped my phone back into my purse.

And as I finally fell asleep, I did so with more tears wetting the pillow beneath my cheek.

Chapter 20.

I curled my feet beneath me and draped a blanket over my lap. On the other side of the couch, Eleanor pressed her lips together and blew a breath across the top of her mug, cooling her tea.

She'd been here for two days, making good on her promise to be in Detroit the night after I called her. But since her arrival, we had been busy with not only the visitation and funeral preparations, but the actual services themselves.

In addition, there had been a steady stream of my father's men coming in and out of the house. He was meeting with various members of his organization and palpable tension seemed to hover in the air. I didn't think it was solely due to losing my mother.

The reception at our house after the funeral had lasted hours due to the fact that everyone who was anyone wanted to show their support for my father, and, what felt like an afterthought, me.

I had moved to Eleanor's side, clutching her hand while the forever-long line of people offered their condolences. I figured about half of them were genuine. The ones who I knew were genuine were my, apparently, brand new friends from Fireside Grill. When I saw Paige walk toward me with her husband, I had begun shaking. When Suzanne followed with her husband, and then Chelsea and Camden, Eleanor had to wrap her arm around my waist to keep me from collapsing.

They had swallowed me in hugs and warm kisses, whispering how sorry they were for my loss. Suzanne told me she and her husband had gone to Fireside for lunch, and when Declan was surprised to see her there, telling her my mom had pa.s.sed and about the funeral and reception afterward, they had all rushed to my house.

I had never had friends as amazing as these women, and I promised I would call them as soon as everything settled down after.

At least the burial service earlier in the day had been a private affair with only me, my father, Eleanor, Clarissa, and Claude, along with my father's most trusted men, in attendance. Malik had been absent, which I spent no further time thinking about after noticing.

Now Eleanor and I had chucked our funeral wear and were lounging in the living room in sweats, with Clarissa hovering nearby to ensure we ate.

"We haven't had much time to speak," Eleanor said and took another sip of her tea.

I clung to my coffee and pressed my lips together. "There hasn't been much else to say."

I had already told her all about Tyson. Even to her it seemed like dej vu. She had let me cry on her shoulder, both of us crying over my mom's death, which we expected, and me also crying over Tyson's betrayal, which I hadn't expected at all.

"What are you going to do now?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. I have the week off work and I was supposed to move into my apartment last weekend but I postponed that."

Unfortunately I wasn't able to postpone all of the furniture deliveries, so my non-lived-in apartment was filled with furniture. I was debating about what to do with the furniture and the place. How could I live in Latham Hills now?

"Maybe I should stay here for a while," I told Eleanor and watched the expression on her face. To her credit, it stayed perfectly blank.