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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 61
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 61

FUNERAL-APPROPRIATE, MORBID, AND bitter thoughts circulate through my mind as I stare at the light blue casket surrounded by hallowed ground. Knowing there’s only darkness beneath the box, I resist the urge to collect her body from within it, even if it’s no longer hosting her. Despite that, I fucking loathe the thought of leaving her in a hole. Of some stranger that doesn’t know her worth tossing dirt on a body that, just weeks ago, I worshipped. A body which contained the spirit, heart, and brilliant mind of a woman I’ll go to my own death loving.
I don’t want her here. I don’t want her last home to be a dark place without a trace of light. I don’t want any of this.
But life has a sick fucking way of ignoring those wants. I decide then that when I separate from my own body, and if my soul resides elsewhere, I want no trace of my remains anywhere for anyone to visit.
Though it may be a selfish decision, when I perish from this earth, I want memories to be where I reside in the minds and hearts of those who knew me, without a trace of the host to be found. I follow that line of thinking into a darker place as the crowd begins to disperse.
It’s then I also understand that funerals really and truly are for the living, and am only aggravated as I’m approached with apology after apology. Condolences by people who are probably thinking to themselves that one day, I’ll heal. That one day, I’ll live again. But how can I? She’s not here.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The ricocheting condolence doled out by so many has me screaming inside. Screaming with my unvoiced reply. It’s not my loss. It’s everyone’s fucking loss!
The saying grates on me like no other because it’s a bullshit acknowledgment. A polite pass-off. The person still breathing, saying those words, is forgetting about the person they’re giving condolences to in the next breath, their next blink, while your entire life stutters in their wake. Forever altered by all the collective breaths in their life path. The in-passing, parting remark more demeaning than any other I can think of when half your fucking soul is torn from you. Spit out in routine by those who just want to say the right thing, to seem sincere, but they don’t fucking know it’s not just my loss, it’s theirs too. Even if corrected, they will never truly know the gravity and weight of that person’s life and what they sacrificed for them.
Just like my fallen military brothers who get a day or two of recognition per calendar year but lived every day of their fucking lives for others who are “sorry for your loss.”
The woman I loved shaped soldiers of her own, soldiers who will save countless lives for generations to come.
Her loss is not just my loss. She’s everyone’s loss. The world’s loss. Just like Dom’s is, and I won’t let the world forget them. I won’t let the world be sorry for my loss. I’ll make sure they’re sorry for theirs.
One day, I’ll find a way to make it known exactly what two souls helped shape the fate of our country.
Someday, somehow, I’ll find a fucking way.
Faintly acknowledging the long hug and damp tears my mother stains my jaw with and the prolonged palm of my father’s hand on my shoulder, one by one, they file up to me. All ready with an offered hug, or a handshake. All of my birds there in support, their own words muted by the clanging in my chest. Their muddled condolences and lingering stares following my every move, save one . . . Not long after the cars turn over, I finally sense his presence behind me.
He doesn’t say a word but just stands a few feet to my side, a silent support despite his own extended absence. Truthfully, it feels like his soul departed the day we laid his brother to rest a few feet over. Maybe he’s wordless because he already resides in the same wasteland I’ve just gained entrance to. The land of broken heartbeats and lost dreams. The land of unconscionable pain.
Resigned to the fate and path of a loveless man, I tear my gaze away from the place I know my beloved isn’t. She’s more present in that field of wildflowers than she’ll ever be here. She’ll never be here, and therefore, I have no reason to be.
“I don’t know which of us has it worse,” I finally say to Tobias, my fury quickly rising to the surface. “You because Cecelia still breathes, or me because Delphine wasn’t granted that privilege.” I toss the handful of wildflowers I picked from our field onto her casket and, with one last lingering look, begin to walk toward my truck.
She’s not here, she’s not in that hallowed ground, keep walking, Soldier.
Her host betrayed her, and I have no use for a place she doesn’t exist.
She’s not here. I could search the entirety of this earth, and I won’t find her. That’s death.
“Tyler,” Tobias barks on my heels, a one-eighty from the last funeral we attended where I was on his heels to keep him from fleeing to Cecelia. When I buried another of the closest people to me. Not even a year. I couldn’t even get a fucking year between them thanks to this unmerciful fucking life.
The life of a soldier, Jennings, keep walking.
“You won’t be alone tonight,” he says in more order than request, which only pisses me off more.
“That’s not your decision, but no, I won’t.”
“I don’t want to fight,” he rasps from beside me, “please brother, let’s not fight.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry for your loss, but I don’t give a fuck about what you want,” I snap.
“Tyler, stop,” T utters in a pathetic order. One I don’t follow.
“I’ve got somewhere to be,” I lie as Zach meets my eyes from where he waits for me at the hood of my truck. He stayed at the back of the crowd purposefully because he didn’t want condolences. He’s too raw for that right now. I didn’t want so much distance between us during the funeral, but I respected it. This loss will no doubt change his makeup if it hasn’t started already, and I have to keep that in mind, him in mind.
Keep marching, Soldier.
“You have nowhere to be,” Tobias says, calling my bluff.
I scoff. “I have a thousand places to be, and I don’t need you to return the favor.” It’s a low blow, but I was the only one who was able to reason with him once he imploded after Dom’s funeral.
Dom.
Delphine.
Tobias is the last living member of his whole goddamned family. In a sick way, I envy him. He has nothing holding him back from being the emotionless monster he’s trying his best to become. Getting closer by the day in succeeding, his concern for me is surprising, considering he’s a living ghost at this point. But my whole being has an aversion to him right now, and I say as much.
“I’m going home with Zach. If you really want to be there for me, then stop walking,” I snap. He stops his footing instantly. The pain in his exhale is evident, but I ignore it, focusing on my own for once. Unsure of how I’ll ever resemble a fraction of the man I was.
I’m a soldier now. Nothing more. But it’s then I look back into the eyes of the boy I’ve come to love in mere months and know that I’ll have to be more than that.
Left. Right. Keep marching.
Thankful. I’m supposed to be thankful for the time I had and for the memories we made, but I hate each second as it passes because of the distance it puts between the time she was breathing and the reality now in which she isn’t.
That’s fucking death. Each breath I take becomes agonizing as I will myself to stay in the moment, not to blink out for the kid standing curbside at my truck, looking as broken and lost as I feel. Will this be his life if he stays with me? Who will fucking protect him if I don’t? I can’t fail him.
“Tyler—” Tobias calls after me.
“Hey, get in the truck, okay?” I tell Zach, who doesn’t move, sensing something’s afoot.
“Please, Zach. Please don’t make today harder,” I ask him, knowing our day of reckoning is coming. The grudge in his eyes in the days after her death still there even as he does my bidding and climbs into the cab.
“Brother,” Tobias clips behind me, “let me—”
“I’m all soldier right now, T,” I snap back at him, rounding my truck and opening my door. “Don’t expect anything else anytime soon.”
On my heels, he palms my open door shut, crowding me against the truck. “Don’t do this,” I grit out. “Don’t fucking do this, T.”
“You aren’t alone tonight. I’ll be a shadow, I won’t say a fucking word, but you aren’t alone tonight.”
“I know your place, but so do you,” I grit out. “This is personal, and I’m not asking permission.”
Both our cell phones rattle as we’re summoned for another battle, and I find relief in a new mission, a distraction to keep me from coming apart. “I’ve got it,” I say.
He pins me with his stare. “You’re sitting this one out, Tyler.”
“I don’t sit shit out. In case you’ve conveniently forgotten again, we’re in the middle of a fucking war.”
“You are sitting this one out today. You just buried the love of your life, and I just buried my last relative.”
“You hated her,” I spit at him, slapping his chest with my palms. He doesn’t so much as flinch, his lifeless eyes peering back at me even as he speaks words of contradiction.
“I loved her, and she knew that, and so do you,” he admits without pause.
“Tyler,” Zach calls through the partially lowered window of the truck, his eyes watering as I realize he’s watching me lose my shit. In seeing his state, all the past months I’ve spent trying to give him a stable home, stable footing start to feel tarnished.
“It’s all good,” I grit out, my plea clear as I lift a palm in temporary truce while eyeing Tobias, who nods and steps away to disengage. It’s the fear in Zach’s eyes as I enter the truck that damn near levels me. Because it’s not fear of me, it’s fear for me. Of what I might do. I’m becoming unhinged, and it’s apparent. He’s a reason. He’s a reason to endure another second.
A reason to keep my now misshapen heart beating.
A reason Delphine and I shared during our precious seconds together.
Something worth fighting for.
And so for her, for him, I’ll force myself to soldier on.
* * *
“Tyler.” My name is called as I try to register the familiarity of the man kneeling in front of me. His face coming into focus as he calls my name a second time. Or a third. “Please, Tyler, look at me,” Sean pleads. “Please, brother, you’re scaring the fuck out of me,” he croaks as I fully focus on him.
“What?”
“You’ve been sitting here for a solid twenty-four hours.” He darts his eyes over my shoulder. “Zach is terrified. He called me and told me you haven’t gone into the house.”
I glance back at the brick and mortar before peering through the glass door at the boy with fear-filled eyes, who’s staring right back at me. When we pulled up from the funeral, I told Zach to go inside. That I’d be right in, but I never made it past the front porch step.
“Fuck,” I rasp out.
“I’ve got everything handled,” Sean assures, “but you have got to get ahold of yourself, for him. Okay?”
I nod.
“Russell is delegating, but I came to ask what you need. Tell me.”
Checking myself, terrified of what I’ve already done to Zach, I go through a mental list of shit I know has to be done. “You need to pass out blessings.”
“No, you, brother. What do you need?”
A silver return stare. “Nothing,” I utter.
“We can argue that lie later, but for now, for Zach, can you try to get to your feet?” he asks, as I glance over to his idling Nova to see Tessa sitting in the passenger seat, her anxious eyes glued to us both.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “Just give me a minute.”
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Sean releases, not bothering to conceal the concern in his tone, “but if you’re not in that house by the time I get back, we’re going to have to figure something out. You’re scaring him.”
“Fuck, I didn’t realize.” I palm my neck and nod. “All right.”
“He’ll be fine, okay? Just try to make it into the house. I’ll be back. I love you, brother.”
The second Sean pulls out I hear the noise of another vehicle passing and glance up to see my dad’s F-150 pulling to a stop. Dread settles into me as I look back to see the fear in Zach’s eyes before he pushes through the storm door.
Of all the people to call, kid. Seriously?
My dad exits his truck and stalks over to me as I finally stand, my legs tight from being idle for so long as I step toward him.
“I don’t know what he told you, but we’re fine here. You can go.”
“Son, I held back at the funeral, but I’m begging you to let me stay today.”
Zach chooses that moment to walk out as I attempt to get to some sort of healthier headspace while running interference on Carter.
“What are you doing?” I prompt Zach as he stalks down the porch to stand next to my dad.
“You need him,” Zach declares.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know him,” I counter. “Look, bud,” I relay on exhale, “now isn’t the time—”
“Yes, I do know him,” he interjects. “We spend every Sunday together,” he proclaims. “Who do you think taught me that mean curveball?”
“What?” I ask, gaping at him before glaring at my father. “You’ve been sneaking behind my fucking back?”
“No,” Zach defends. “He’s just been coming to his family gatherings, and we got close. And I like him . . . no, I love him, and he told me he wants so bad to be your dad again.”
I keep my hardening stare on my father. “Really smooth, Carter, using a kid to try and get to me?”
“That’s not what this is,” Dad clips, but without offense.
“Zach, get in the house,” I say. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“You’ve been out h-here for a whole d-day,” Zach relays shakily. “I don’t think you’re okay. You need somebody—” his voice cracks as his face contorts. But it’s when he starts to cry that my heart sinks.
“Fuck . . .” I run my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry I scared you, buddy, I am, but I’m just sad, okay? It’s you. You’re all I need, I promise. I just want to hang with you.”
Zach sniffs, staring back at me, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and affection.
“I promise I’m coming,” I assure as best I can. “Please just get in the house. I’ll be right behind you. Are you hungry?”
Zach nods, looking between Dad and me, and anger builds that my father’s opinion matters. That adding to the sting of Zach openly admitting he loves him.
“There’s a bunch of casseroles in the fridge. Will you heat one up for us?”
He nods and turns to my father, who palms his shoulder briefly in encouragement. “Go on, I’ll see you Sunday,” Dad says, and Zach dips his chin. Not long after, shoulders slumped, Zach disappears into the house as Dad approaches me.
“Seriously?” I shake my head. “You know that Mom knows who he is, right? Don’t you have any fucking shame?”
“Grace left him, Tyler, not me. That’s something I would never do. Of course I didn’t know the situation. If I did, I would have done what I could. I’ve paid for my past mistakes dearly, so you don’t get to turn this around on me today. I’m very aware of what a bastard I am, but that’s not why I’m here,” he relays evenly. “I’m here because that boy fucking worships you, and I love him back, but I love the man in front of me more so.”
“Well, your loyalty is a bit unwarranted considering I’ve barely minced words with you in—”
“Ten years,” he finishes, the words biting, “sound familiar? I thought you weren’t going to repeat my mistakes.”
“Fuck you,” I spit venomously, and he flinches. “How about that? Will that do it?”
Cringing inside, I lower my eyes and turn my back, thankful for the anger over the pain as I manage to put one foot in front of the other.
“No,” he finally speaks. “It won’t do it. It’s unforgivable, but I guess I’m owed one or two of those from you. Please, don’t turn me away. Please, Tyler. I love you.”
“You don’t fucking know me.”
“Yes, I do,” he calls after me. “You think I didn’t reach out to everyone I fucking knew to see where you were at all times while you were in the service? Do you think I wasn’t sitting beside your mother during every call? Hoping that just once you’d ask to speak to me? I’ve been looking after you every fucking day since you walked out of that house and biting my tongue for close to a decade as you treated me as an acquaintance, but I can’t do it anymore.”
“Then stop,” I utter, willing my feet forward, over the porch and toward the door.
“I need to be your father again, more than the air I breathe because I do know you, Tyler. And I’m so proud of you. You’ve become my hero, Son.”
I snort derisively as I stalk toward the door, using my anger as fuel to override everything else. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry about the disrespect, and I am sorry—” I glance back to see his eyes red-rimmed—“and I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’ve got a scared kid inside—”
“My kid is scared!” he shouts. “My kid is hurting, and just suffered the worst blow of his life!” His voice cracks. “Goddamnit, Tyler, stop running from me and fucking face me, please,” he utters, the break in his voice pausing my steps.
“I appreciate that you’re here and showed up for me, but now isn’t the time,” I utter, palming the front door.
“Yes, it is,” he counters, “and I’m not the only one who thinks so, Son. I have a message from your wife.”
I pause the turn of the knob and glance back at him. A few tense heartbeats pass before I manage my reply. “What did you just say?”
He doesn’t hesitate, taking a step toward the porch as he speaks. “I said I have a message from your wife, Tyler. I have a message from Delphine.”
He maintains his stance as I stalk toward him. His expression remaining adamant, even as his eyes water when I come to a stop a foot away. “I’m Delphine’s last wish, Son.”
I go utterly still while soaking him in thoroughly for the first time in a decade. “What do you mean y—”
“I mean I both knew and loved Delphine, and I was her last recruit.”
I shake my head in denial as he elevates his voice.
“Her purpose in doing so is that you would need a new best friend.”
“Stop—”
“No,” he claps back, digging his heels in. “We’ve spent a lot of time together in the last six months. It started with the few chemo appointments you couldn’t be there for before she stopped treatment. I’ve been with her every second you weren’t or couldn’t be. While you worked or were on missions in Miami. I got to know her very well. She taught me how to play Battle. And it was because she purposely took the time to get to know me. She told me everything, Son, and my job is to be here for you because she can’t anymore.” He keeps his gaze zeroed on me as his eyes spill over. “I loved Delphine, and while you’re devastated and grieving your wife, I’m grieving my friend, and honestly, I’m miserable she’s gone.”
I shake my head, disbelieving she would relay so much and spill so many secrets. A woman with an iron jaw who never slips. Even if it’s to her own detriment. “What do you mean she told you everything?”
“She told me the most incredible story I’ve ever heard. Of her past, of Matis and Alain. Of how the two of you started working together and bonded after I broke your trust, your heart. Of how you fought some dark places and the way you relentlessly trained. She told me about how close the two of you got and became fishin’ buddies while you fell in love here on our land.”
I stand reeling, disbelieving of his words as each one pummels me, re-stoking my hurts.
“She told me you went into the service to investigate it, mostly because of me and for me,” he croaks, “she told me all about your missions while you were in and about your time in the GRS. About Phillip. About losing Armstrong. She explained the history behind your tattoos, Son, both of them.”
I gape back at him, utterly stupefied that the woman whose trust is unbreakable, whose secrecy is unsurmountable, broke mine to the one man I’ve been purposely mute to for a decade. She wouldn’t. But it’s the look in my father’s eyes and his admissions that have me believing otherwise as he stares at me with pride I’d long forgotten. Pride I forgot I so desperately wanted and worked for half my life. A pride and respect I lived for.
“She told me she wanted me to be the only one to know all of your secrets because she knows I’m the only other person on earth you would have once trusted with them.”
My vision blurs as he steps closer. His unease and hope palpable and rolling from him as I start to break further apart. Piece by piece.
“She wanted me to remind you that the true brilliance of any strategist lies within the surprise . . . and I am her last wish, Tyler.”
Tears roll down my cheeks as I hit my knees, and he instantly crouches down next to me, palming my shoulder as I grip both of his.
“Because she wanted you to know me again, because she knows I’m the wound she could never heal. She asked me to come here long before today, before Zach called, and relay this to you because she trusted me to be able to do this, to be here for you. Which is why I’m the only other person on this earth aside from Pastor Ron that knows the two of you God married in the wildflowers last fall, but filed no paperwork because it was your promise to her to have—”
“Faith,” we both say simultaneously.
Fingers tightening on his jacket, I shake my head at his admissions, too stunned, too filled with emotion to utter any other word, but one.
“Dad,” I croak before he crushes me to him, going blind with pain as it unleashes inside me. Agony lights my veins as I lose myself in my grief, shattering in his arms, coming apart as he keeps me firmly in his grip, keeps me upright, whispering assurances over and over again as I break against him.
“You’re an incredible man, Tyler. I’m so fucking proud of you. So proud. I’m so in awe of you. Of what you’ve done . . . I want so badly to fill the role she gave me. I want so much to be your friend again, your best friend and father . . . I’m begging you, Son,” he whispers, “please, please, let me stay. Please let me stay.”
Crushed in my father’s hold, all I can do is nod.
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