Eye for an Eye (Take a Chance #2)- Lisa Helen Gray Page 0,115
her so badly. “No, Evie, I’m here for you. To support you.”
A whimper passes through her lips when she takes in the rest of my family before coming back to me.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
I take another step forward. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t get that straight away.”
“You have every right to hate me,” she tells me, her gaze wandering to where Lily and Jaxon are.
“I don’t hate you. I love you,” I tell her.
She shakes her head, trying to take another step back. “No. No, you can’t forgive me.”
My gaze briefly locks with Lily’s, who gives me an encouraging smile. “Someone brilliant pointed out to me that it’s not you who needs forgiveness but us.”
“I can’t do this,” she cries out, and Rebecca pulls her into her arms.
I pause mid-step, forcing myself not to go to her. I don’t want to push her over the edge. Mum squeezes my bicep, standing close to give me some of her warmth.
“Why don’t we stay here, and if you need us, just call out,” Mum tells her softly.
“This can’t be real,” she whispers.
I can’t bear this anymore. I desperately want to do something to make this right for her. She’s breathing but there is no life in her. I don’t recognise the person staring back at me.
I hate myself for doing this to her.
Taking a hesitant step forward, I bend until we’re eye level, waiting until she meets my gaze. “This is real. And I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to.”
“Are you ready to begin?” calls the vicar, standing at the edge of the grave, Bible in hand.
Evie gives him a slow nod in confirmation as Rebecca steers her around to face the coffin.
My entire body is tense. It takes everything in me not to go to her side, but I stay back, keeping close enough to be next to her if she needs me.
Mum squeezes my hand and I inhale, trying to calm my rioting nerves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EVIE
A big part of me feels lost, and I desperately want it back. The grief… it feels like an emptiness in my heart that doesn’t just threaten to curse me with a life filled with nothingness but already has, and there’s no apology or remorse for the underlying sorrow that consumes me.
Every memory I shared with Mum plays like a song on a loop that I can’t stop or pause. It’s a gift and torture at the same time.
Every day, loneliness creeps in a little more and chills me to the bone. It still doesn’t feel real. I heard the doctor tell Rebecca that it’s common in grief for people to struggle to come to terms with it.
A shiver races up my spine and I cross my arms to ward off the chill. It isn’t from the breeze though. It’s being hyper aware of Wyatt.
He’s close, but not close enough to touch. However, when I close my eyes, I swear I feel his touch, his comfort, as if he were.
I have missed him terribly.
I still don’t trust that he isn’t here to have another go at me.
Rebecca grips my hand and I jerk my head up, looking at her. “Are you ready to give your eulogy?”
The vicar has finished?
Tears gather in my eyes, and everything I spent the night memorizing goes out the window. I can’t get my words out.
“I love you, Mum,” I croak out, squeezing Rebecca’s hand back.
I can’t do this.
How do I say goodbye to a woman who was my hero, my everything?
How do I measure her life with words that won’t give her justice?
I can’t.
“You can continue,” Rebecca whispers, letting me lean into her.
I drown out his voice, concentrating on the coffin in front of me. Two men step forward, kneeling to the ground to begin lowering the casket.
The sound of the device echoes in my ears, drowning out the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.
Click, click, click.
It gets louder and my body begins to shake as the casket lowers into the ground.
‘I love you to the moon and back.’
Mum.
“Stop!” I cry out, and everyone pauses around me, yet the coffin continues to descend. I can’t do it. I can’t say goodbye. “No, no, no.”
“Evie,” Rebecca cries out when I fall to my knees, crawling to the metal frame surrounding the grave.
“Please stop!” I scream, and the men rush forward, switching it off. I grip the green sheet, sobbing into my chest. “Don’t leave me. Please, Mum, don’t leave me.”