Winter lifted his chin at his brother, but didn’t say anything, his attention coming straight back to me.
I passed Max’s coat to him as he took in Winter’s jacket I wore. He had no spare coat with him, but he didn’t mention it. Max knew his brother well; he knew I was taken care of.
Looking at Winter, Max said, “The funeral director is waiting for us. There’s something
he needs to go over again.”
Winter gave a quick nod, still watching me. My feet felt like they weighed a tonne and I couldn’t lift them. I didn’t know whether to go with Winter or not.
As Max left us, Winter said, “I’ll meet you inside.”
I gulped down my uncertainty and nodded. “Okay.”
He watched me for another moment and then took off after Max.
I stared after him for a long time, until I couldn’t see him any longer. But while I couldn’t see him, I could feel him. Everywhere. Last night it was like he didn’t want to even look at me; this morning, he seemed to not want to take his eyes off me. And he didn’t have to put a hand on me to touch me; his presence alone marked me.
I took my time gathering myself and then I made my way into the chapel, slipping into a seat in the second row, behind where Melissa and the two boys sat. Winter would probably want to sit in the front row with Max, but I’d wait and see, and move with him if he made that choice. For now, I needed to be by myself and focus.
Funerals weren’t my thing. Not at all. They made me think of my father, and while he’d died a long time ago, grief had no timeline. Sometimes the memories were so strong it felt like he’d died just yesterday.
The chapel filled up slowly. By the time Max took a seat next to Melissa in front of me, there was only standing room in the back. Winter’s father had been a respected member of the community, and I hadn’t expected anything less.
I glanced around to look for Winter, figuring he wouldn’t be far behind his brother. His eyes met mine as I turned. He’d removed his sunglasses and I now saw the intensity with which he watched me. Gone was the fury he’d burned with last night, and in its place was a fierceness I was unsure of.
He stopped at the second row and motioned towards the first row, indicating he wanted me there with him. When I stood, bringing my face close to his, I saw the grief in his eyes too.
My heart cracked for my strong man and as I exited the row and he placed his hand to the small of my back to guide me into the first row of pews, that crack grew.
Never again would I lie to him or keep secrets from him. Winter deserved more than that.
I sat next to Max who looked up at Winter and then back at me with a smile. Taking my hand, he squeezed it before letting it go again and directing his attention back to his family.
Winter sat next to me, his muscular body only just fitting in the space he had. In an effort to make more room for him, I attempted to squish myself closer to Max. Winter had other ideas, though; his hand landed on my leg and he gripped me, letting me know to stay put.
My gaze shot to his, confused as to his change of heart from last night.
Looking at me, he said gruffly, “I need you, Angel.”
Those four words meant the world to me. They also killed me. Winter wasn’t the kind of man to ask for help. That he had, showed me his struggle.
Nodding, I said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes searched mine for a beat and then he looked straight ahead.
We sat in silence for the five minutes before the funeral started. I did my best to avoid looking at the casket or the large photo of Winter’s dad that had been printed on a canvas and displayed on a large easel to the right of us. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to look; I wanted to stay strong for Winter, and I knew if I looked at his father’s photo, I would break down.
Winter’s body tensed more than it already was when the minister started talking. The next half hour would feel like the longest half hour of his life. I knew that from experience.
Glancing at him, I found his eyes fixed on the minister, his jaw tight, and his shoulders like stone. Tears rushed at the back of my eyes and I looked away, blinking madly, trying to stop them.
Seeing Winter hurt was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. Knowing I was a source of a lot of that hurt made it hard to breathe. But I pushed all of the emotions strangling me over that and brought today back to what it was all about—Winter’s father.
I placed a hand on Winter’s thigh. I wanted to take his hand, but he had both of them clasped tightly together in his lap, so I settled for his thigh. It tensed under my touch, but only for a moment before relaxing again. Another moment passed between us and then he placed his hand over mine, gripping it tightly.
My heart squeezed as his hand squeezed over mine.
I settled in and listened to Winter’s father’s friends and family share memories of him and his life. Max read the eulogy and then Winter got up to talk about his father.