Come What May - L.K. Farlow
Chapter One
Seraphine
I crumple the note for the hundredth time. I don’t know why I’m clutching it like a lifeline—I have the stupid thing memorized. The words are etched into my heart at this point, each sloppily scrawled letter pumping through my veins like the worst kind of poison.
He said he loved me. Over and over, he said that. And not to blame myself… that his choice was as much for me as it was him. But how? Actions over words, and at the end of it all, he left me. By choice.
Deep down—like marrow deep—I know I’m being unfair. But life’s not fair, and now, I’m alone. Completely and totally alone.
Tears fall freely, running unchecked down my cheeks as the minister drones on about the wonders of life after death. Which is bullshit, because there’s no wonder for those of us the dead leave behind, just a whole lot of fucking heartache.
“You okay?” My cousin’s whispered concern jars me.
I shake my head in lieu of an actual reply. I’m pretty sure I’m not capable of more than gut-wrenching sobs right now.
“Sweet girl.” She clasps my hand in hers, and while I want to pull away, I let her hold on to me, knowing she needs the comfort, too. He left us both, after all. “Do you want to stay with us tonight?”
I’m tempted to take her up on the offer—the thought of being alone in the house we shared is honestly crippling. But Magnolia and Simon don’t need me intruding, so again, I shake my head.
“It’s not good for you to be alone,” she says, tightening her grip on my hand.
Alone. The word fills me with bitterness, coating my insides with an inky darkness as it wraps around my heart.
“I’m fine.” I force my lips up into what I hope is a smile. “Promise.”
Magnolia sighs. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
She sighs again, and we both tune back in just in time to hear the minister ask me to come to the podium to say a few words. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to this. Clearly, I wasn’t—because I’d rather eat glass than go up to the pulpit and tell all these people who didn’t give a single shit about my father while he was living how great he was. Because if they’d have spent even five minutes with him, they’d already know.
Sure, there’s a handful of people here who truly loved him—but these fools probably couldn’t tell you a single authentic thing about him. Yet they have the audacity to sniffle and cry into their tissues.
I shove my growing ire down as I make my way to the front. My knees wobble as I step onto the raised platform. On a shuddering exhale, I turn and face the crowd. “Y’all knew him as Dave, but to me, he was Dad. Those three letters were more than a title, more than a name. To him, it was a badge of honor.”
A tear-soaked laugh slips past my lips as I struggle to maintain my composure. “His two favorite things to talk about were cars and—” I slap a hand over my mouth as a sob overtakes my words. My shoulders shake as my grief barrels into me like a runaway train.
After a few moments, I wipe my eyes and continue, keeping my eyes cast downward—the last thing I need right now is to see any of these people feeling sorry for me.
“And me. He… he left us before his time, and in his illness, he left a lot of things unfinished, but through it all, he never once allowed me to question his love for me. Even when he was bedridden and too weak to talk, he’d hold my hand and I could just… feel… his love.”
I swallow hard and finally dare to look up. A shiver runs through me when my eyes lock with those of Mateo Reyes. His stare is intense and sorrowful all at once, and for reasons unknown, it makes me feel a little more at peace.
“Dad had a kind word for everyone, and he’d give you the shirt off his back. He believed in honesty and hard work. He was a blue-collar man, through and through. He is—was—” I shrug and sniffle at the same time, existing in that weird space between laughter and tears. “A good man. The kind who put others first and believed time was more valuable than money.”
As I near the end of my poorly planned speech, self-doubt creeps