Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

Murmurs filled the room. Polite laughter came from people who knew him and loved him.

Once upon a time, I’d been in that list. I’d been fooled too.

At at once, my knees dissolved.

Lucky gripped my hand harder and hauled me against him. I rested my palm against his warm chest. That clean, fresh scent filled my nose and cleared out the little black spots that had been forming at the edges of my vision.

The spell broken, I glanced into the crowd. My gaze landed on a man with a scooter near the wall.

Cohen.

Mottled green bruises covered his jaw, the last ugly reminder of what had happened. They looked as if they were on the way to healing. His leg was in a cast up to the knee. He was using the scooter to stand.

Lucky followed my gaze and gently shuffled me forward.

Ezra was leaning against the wall behind Cohen, his usual dark-rimmed glasses perched on his sharp nose. He wore a suit that had been obviously made for his lanky body. He spotted me and waved me over, a frown forming on his face as he caught sight of the man beside me.

My dad and Rhett were two peas in a pod as always. I finally slipped my hand from Lucky’s and went right to my dad. The tears I’d been holding onto tracked down my cheeks.

He caught me tight. Jeff Burns might have been the elder statesman of this crazy crew, but he was still a solid wall of muscle. He smelled of Tom Ford with a hint of motor oil. The old black leather jacket he wore was as familiar as his scent.

I stepped back and dashed at my eyes. I gave Rhett a quick hug. He was the dapper one of all of us in a modern suit and smelled like something expensive. I moved onto Ezra.

He crushed me close and murmured, “Who’s the tree?”

“A friend.”

He arched a brow, but thankfully, it wasn’t the time for questions. I knew I’d have to answer them eventually.

That was a problem for another day.

Cohen was staring straight ahead, his eyes flat and emotionless.

“Co,” I said softly.

He shook his head, not meeting my gaze.

The tears hit again. I tipped my head back to stop the flow. Then I felt Lucky at my back, his big hand coming to rest on my hip. All that warm sturdiness was like another blow when I felt so damn wobbly.

Cohen finally looked at me. Desolation filled his gray green eyes. They were rimmed with red, but as dry as ash. His jaw flexed and he swallowed hard.

I stepped closer to him, but he shook his head.

I dropped my arms. “Co.” My voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“It should have been me,” he whispered.

“No.” I didn’t care right then what he wanted. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. They were usually so sturdy and strong. He’d always been whip lean, but all muscle. Now I only felt bones.

He didn’t hug me back.

I held on anyway.

Whomever was talking finished and the attendees begun clapping. They called someone else up to talk about Jimmy. The woman spoke about how amazing he was. How much he helped others. How generous he was with his time.

Each piece of the eulogy lashed at me.

When I could take no more, I stepped back. Cohen wouldn’t look at me. He’d gone back to staring at nothing. Maybe at some memory we would never share.