“Well, I’m fine.”
It bothered him, that the softness he remembered in his little sister was gone. She was harder now, jaded and calloused by time. Had his absence contributed to making her that way?
A hundred questions raced through his head. Did their dad ever ease up? How bad did it get after he left? Why did she help a man who only ever abused them?
Was she sad? Was she happy? Was there something wrong with him for feeling relieved now that their dad was dead?
How could he do better by her? Did she hate him? Did she need anything?
Rather than voice a single worry, he kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut.
When they reached the mortician’s, everything was pretty cut and dry. He let Erin do the talking. She only deferred to him when the funeral director asked which day they wanted the burial.
“The sooner the better,” Harrison said.
When they wrapped everything up, he cut the check for all but the headstone. No way he was paying to immortalize that son of a bitch with some sort of statue. If Erin wanted to go that far, she could pay for it herself. To his thinking, even a plastic grave marker was too much.
On the drive home, she mentioned something about hiring a priest again, but he didn’t see the point. However, he wasn’t going to stand in her way if that was what she needed to ‘find closure’.
He parked in the driveway but didn’t shut off the car.
“Do you want to come in? We could order pizza and watch a movie. I have some boxes of—”
“I can’t.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but he had to put his own mental health before hers in this case. Today had stirred a lot of unwanted emotions, and he needed some space to clear his head.
“You’ll have to eventually go through—"
“Whatever’s left is yours. I don’t want any of it.”
“I can’t do all of this on my own, Harrison.”
“Just…let me know what you need, and I’ll pay for it.” He’d hire cleaners to come empty the house if that’s what it took.
She scoffed and shoved open the door. “Thanks.” Her tone lacked any hint of gratitude.
As soon as she went inside the house, he sped out of the driveway and drove as far away from his childhood home as possible, but there was no escaping the unwanted memories that kept surfacing.
He wanted to keep going. He wanted to leave everything behind again, but he couldn’t because he had to stick around for the fucking funeral.
“Fuck!” He slammed his palm into the steering wheel as he waited at a stop light, unsure if he’d go straight toward New York or turn right and return to the hotel.
The light changed and he hesitated. A horn honked, spurring him out of his thoughts, and he jerked the wheel, heading back to the hotel.
He still wasn’t breathing right when he reached Main Street. The thought of being caged in a tiny hotel room made him want to ram his fist into something. He needed to blow off some steam.
Pulling into the parking lot of O’Malley’s Pub, he decided to have a beer rather than devour the bottle of whiskey tucked in his suitcase. There was no sense of homecoming when he stepped into the tavern. He’d left town when he was only eighteen, still too young to drink in the state of Pennsylvania, so this was one place blissfully free of memories—so long as he didn’t look at the clientele.
He took a stool at the far end of the bar when none other than Perrin Harris appeared. “What can I get you?”
Jesus, he hated small towns. “I’ll take a beer.”
“Holy shit, Harrison?”
“The one and only.”
“Wow, I haven’t seen you in—God, it must be more than a decade, now.” Realization flashed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry about your dad. First round’s on me.”
He gave a tight smile. “Whatever’s on tap is fine.”
He watched her as she filled a pilsner. Perrin Harris had always been pretty, but she wasn’t his type. That blonde pixie look was cute, but he preferred women with darker features who were a little fuller in the hips. She had nothing on Mariella’s beauty.
He needed to find out where Mariella lived. If he found a McCullough or a Clooney, he could possibly get some answers. Perrin probably knew, but after everything he learned about their little rivalry, she wasn’t the person to ask.
“Here you go.” Perrin placed the beer on a cocktail napkin. “Did you want to look at a menu?”
“Sure.”
She plucked one out of her apron and set it on the bar. “So where are you living?”
“New York.” He glanced at the menu. “I’ll take the house burger. Medium rare.”
She typed his order into the computer. “You staying with family?”
What family? He and Erin barely knew how to speak to each other anymore. “I’m at the Brick Hotel.”