Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

My gaze wanders up to Tris’s face that’s as stoic and emotionless as it has been since I first saw him at the hospital after we got the call. A shiver rolls through me at the short memory before my dad is tapping me on the arm to tell me the service is over.

I don’t move, staying behind when Charlotte takes the kids from Tris. I’m surprised when he lets her because he hasn’t let them out of his sight. I’m aware he probably wants to be alone and I’ll let him have time in a moment, I just want to make sure he’s alright.

I clear my throat and walk up to the grave, standing next to him. “Beautiful service.”

Beautiful service? What a stupid thing to say!

He nods once, the creases on his forehead pulling down as his face crumples and he loses it, dropping to his knees, the dirt soaking into his pants. “Why?” His palms slap against the ground. “Why her? Can life not give me a fucking break!”

I kneel in the dirt beside him, raw emotion pouring out of both of us as I wrap him up in a hug that has us both sobbing against each other’s shoulders.

“She was healthy and had her whole life ahead of her.” He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “It’s not fucking fair, Nate. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” I choke out.

He pulls back, tears streaming down his face. “I’ve gone over and over that day time and time again. She knew there was something wrong: I could see it in her eyes when she stared at me.” A sob breaks free, his voice quivering. “They should’ve been able to help her.” I nod, wiping at my eyes. I’m in pain, but he was there when it happened. I can’t imagine ever watching the one you love fade before your eyes. “It’s all my fault.”

My head snaps toward him. “No, Tris. This—”

“YES… it is my fault. This is my punishment.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “This is what happens when you destroy someone good and don’t look back; fate intervenes and teaches you a lesson.” I know what he’s talking about but he’s being ridiculous. The determination on his face is enough to stop me from saying anything though: there’ll be no talking him out of this one. He’s grieving and he’ll soon see this is just one of those tragic things that happens. “Twenty-six years old and I’m already a widower and a single father to two children that never really got to know their mom.”

“Tris?” He turns his head to look at me through his bloodshot, teary eyes. “We’re all here to help.”

Looking away, I can tell he’s not really listening now. “I know.”

He gazes at the grave and wipes underneath his eyes before standing up and offering me his hand. I take it and he pulls me up before walking off toward the waiting town car.

“It’s okay to be scared, Tris. But you can lean on us,” I call out to him.

He turns around, holding his arms out wide, the expression on his face void of any emotion just like it was during the service. It’s not that that makes me stop dead in my tracks though; it’s the way he holds conviction in his words as he says, “I’m still standing, I don’t need to lean on anyone,” before turning around and climbing into the car.

It drives off and I slide my hands into my pockets, swallowing down a day’s worth of emotion. I feel like I’ve not only lost my cousin, but also my best friend.

A small sliver of guilt slips in my conscience as I think about setting up Tris and Harm. I know Natalia would forgive me instantly and want Tris to be happy, but the guilt is still there nonetheless.

“I can’t say nothing bad will happen…” His head snaps up from the beer bottle he’s been staring at. “But I can say that you deserve to be happy again. You’re allowed to be scared, that’s completely normal. Just don’t let it get in the way of your happiness.”

He watches me

for several moments, seeming to decide whether what I’m saying is true. “You’re right,” he finally says, sliding out of the booth before pointing at my beer. “Want another?”

“How about something stronger?” I ask, grinning.

His brow raises before he grins along with me. “Something stronger coming up. Go set up one of the tables.”

I take a minute to process the change in Tris. We’ve been out to Gillies hundreds of times since Natalia passed away, and yet it’s never been like this. It’s always stilted conversation and half-hearted pool playing. And even then he normally comes up with an excuse as to why he has to leave after two drinks. This is new territory for us.

I climb out of the booth and find a free pool table, setting up and chalking up the cues as Tris comes walking over. He hands me a shot and a tumbler of whiskey. “Bottoms up.”

I down the shot, clearing my throat against the burn and watching Tris do the same. “What the fuck was that?”

He shrugs. “No idea, a girl at the bar said it was ‘so awesome’ so I got us two.”

I snort as he does his best barely legal, girl voice. “Yeah? That all she said?”

He rolls his eyes and points at the table. “You break, I’m a little rusty.”

I line up my shot and manage to pot a ball. “Stripes.” Taking my second shot, I miss and step back from the table.