Unearthed (The Dungeon Black Duology 1)
His mom peered up at him, pausing in her task, her brown eyes filled to the brim. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to the funeral?”
Max nodded slightly. “Won’t be there long, anyway. And your work’s already so short-staffed. Besides,” he swallowed, “the Sanders don’t want you coming, either. Remember?”
She lifted her chin defiantly, even as it trembled. “I don’t care. Screw them. I loved Kevin also. He was like another son to me. He was family.”
Max winced at the mention of his name. God, that one word was like a blade to his heart. Amplifying the pain that had yet to cease since Kevin died three nights ago. “I know,” he rasped weakly. “And Kevin knew that, too.”
His mom gazed into his eyes, her long hair framing her face like a dark weeping willow in mourning. “Yes, but woodatsi.” Her features pinched worriedly. “I don’t want you to face them all alone.”
Max’s insides twisted. Oh, God. That’s exactly what he’d said to Kevin the night of his face-off with his parents. Which now only solidified Max’s resolve. He would do this alone. In honor of Kevin. Face the guy’s parents with no one beside him. With no one holding him afloat during the storm. Either he’d sink, or he’d swim, not that either outcome really mattered.
Again, he shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
His mom didn’t push. Just gave a small nod and finished straightening his tie. “There.” She smiled sadly, brushing off his dress shirt. “All done and ready to go.”
But Max just stood there, staring at nothing. Feeling so adrift. Disassembled.
His mom sighed softly and palmed his cheek, steering his gaze down to hers. “So much sadness you’ve had to endure. First your father, and now—” She stopped abruptly, as if catching herself. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait a year? Start college next fall instead?”
Fresh grief assailed him. Max blinked to clear his vision. “No,” he whispered. “I can’t stay here. Everything reminds me of...” Him.
* * * * *
Max arrived at the Sanders’ evangelical church a couple minutes before the funeral was set to start. Which was for the best. Any earlier and he’d have too much time to think. Any later and he’d risk being tardy and draw attention. And attention was bad, considering he wasn’t even welcome. That voice message the Sanders had left on the answering machine? All but a threat for legal action if Max and his mom didn’t stay away. So, yeah. Avoid attention. Head down for Kevin’s sake. Because God fucking knew, if it was for anyone else, Max would tell them to kiss his gay Native American-Irish ass.
Running on autopilot, he dragged himself out of his truck. He couldn’t believe he was at Kevin’s funeral. A huge part of him still hadn’t accepted it. Like his brain had shut down, gone on strike, refusing to acknowledge reality. Refusing to concede to the truth. Refusing to open its eyes. And Max was okay with that. It helped him to function. Sort of. A little. Because even though he stifled his emotions when awake, he’d yet to keep the reins on them while sleeping.
The last three nights could attest to that. When he’d woke in cold sweats, howling in devastation, sending his mom running to his side. She learned quick, though, and from the first night on, had just conked out on his bed when she’d gotten home. That way, he’d only been an arm’s reach away when she’d needed to wrench him from sleep.
Sleep.
God, if only he could sleep forever. A deep sleep, though, where no one ever dreamed. He’d take that in a heartbeat over his current reality. The world in which he lived just didn’t interest him anymore. Didn’t appeal to him on any level whatsoever. Because Kevin no longer existed in it, no longer walked it by his side.
Kevin was Max’s world. And Kevin was gone.
Drawing in a fortifying breath, he approached the church’s white concrete steps. A dozen to the top. Max’s heart beat faster. Please, legs, hang in there. Don’t give out. His hands turned clammy as he took the first. His breathing grew labored by the fifth. Kevin was in there. Kevin’s body, at least. Behind those big doors. In a casket.
That lump in Max’s throat burgeoned hard and fast, nearly cutting off his air. Max wheezed, tugged at his collar, grimaced as the dense pain in his chest grew stronger.
Just get in there. Hear the homily. Pay your respects.
To your soul mate. Your other half. Your very best friend.
Who, in a few hours, will be six feet underground.
Max choked back a strangled sound.
Hold it together. Don’t let those assholes see you cry.
Slowly but steadily, he made his way higher, a couple people passing him as he climbed. He could hear an organ playing, could smell a shit ton of flowers. Suddenly he felt lightheaded. And his knees felt weak.