Titch sits beside me, stoic, whilst Lena falls apart in her arms. The officiant ends the service with kind words that makes Lena sob louder and Titch stiffen in her seat. Placing my hand on her thigh in solidarity, I squeeze gently, letting her know that I’m here for her, that however she chooses to express her sorrow is fine by me. That not feeling sad about her mum’s death is okay too. That I understand.
“I’m alright,” she says, folding her arms around Lena and glancing up at me, a determined look on her face. I nod, knowing she believes that to be true.
“I know.”
Her gaze cuts across to the wooden casket and the simple spray of white Calla Lilies sitting on top of it. “I will pay you back every last penny,” she murmurs.
“No, you won’t.”
“I will.”
I don’t argue with her. Now isn’t the right time. Despite appearances, her head is all over the place. For the past few days, since Rocks was burnt to the ground, the only thing keeping her sane has been learning to fight. Everything else has come second to her single-minded goal to be strong enough to face David. Dax and I have been teaching her self-defence. Zayn has been showing her how to handle a knife, and Xeno will be teaching her how to shoot a gun. Slowly, the girl who loved to dance, who used the movements of her body as a weapon, is turning into a different kind of warrior. The softest parts of her, hardening with her need to protect Lena, to face her brother when the time comes.
“I guess that’s it then,” she says, as we stand outside the crematorium in the remembrance garden staring at her mother’s flowers that will be gathered up later and incinerated with the body. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side, silently comforting her whilst she gathers her thoughts.
“Is there something wrong with me, York?” she asks quietly.
“Wrong with you?”
Heaving out a sigh, Titch looks over at Lena on the other side of the remembrance garden. She’s quietly sobbing, and Dax is talking with her softly, his hand resting on her shoulder. Despite what he said to her that night she ripped into Titch, there are no hard feelings. Dax cares for Lena in a brotherly, protective way, the same as we all do.
“I don’t feel anything for Mum. All the sadness I hold inside is for Lena and what she’s lost. When I think of Mum and who she was to me, I just feel anger, resentment. Hate. What kind of person does that make me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Titch. Get that thought out of your head,” I reassure her.
“She was murdered, and all I can think of right now is that I’ll never have to feel worthless around her again. I’m broken inside.”
“Titch. You’re no more broken than the rest of us are.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better,” she replies quietly, watching Xeno and Zayn make small talk with the officiant.
“Perhaps that wasn’t the best comparison to make. All I’m saying is, you can’t force yourself to feel sad if you don’t. That doesn’t make you a bad person, Titch. No one expects you to cry for the woman who mistreated you.”
“You heard what Lena said, she took the beatings for me…”
“No,” I reply, cutting her off. “She took the beatings for Lena. If you’d been there at the time, then it would’ve been you. Don’t make her out to be someone she wasn’t.”
“If you’re right, York, and feeling this way doesn’t make me a bad person, then why do I feel so fucking twisted up about it? Why do I feel like the worst person in the world?”
“Because you have a conscience, my love, and a big, beautiful heart,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“My love…?” she whispers, the tiniest hint of a smile in her voice. “I’m your love?”
“Well it certainly ain’t big boy over there. Though I appreciate the attraction. Dax is all man, isn’t he?” I remark, wanting to get her to smile again. I miss that, her joy. It’s fucking gutting to see her struggle so much with all her emotions. That bastard, David, has so much to answer for.
She cocks her head, staring at Dax. “He is good looking, isn’t he?” she muses, a playful tone in her voice. “I’ve seen the looks you give him.”
I chuckle at that. “Flirty banter, Titch. I’m not into men that way.”
“Hmm,” she hums, her cheeks flushing a little pinker. I get the impression that it’s not an ‘I don’t believe you,’ kind of hmm, but a ‘I’d like to test that theory.’ Interestingly, I’m not averse to the idea of testing any theory that gets her rocks off, but right now isn’t the appropriate time to discuss our sexual desires. I’ve never sought out a man for sex, ever, and Titch is literally my heart and soul, but the way she responded to me sliding my fingers into Dax’s mouth that night we had a threesome, well… I wouldn’t mind turning her on like that again. Fuck, if it didn’t make me hard as rock. I’m pretty sure Dax felt the power of that moment too.
“I ain’t afraid to admit that I love Dax, like I love Xeno and Zayn. I appreciate their appeal. I‘m not being funny, Titch, but have you seen what we look like in these suits… We give The Rat Pack a run for their money.”
Titch laughs, and this time it’s a real laugh, not a half-hearted one, and even though she smothers the sound with her hand, it does stupid fucking things to me… And my cock, well, let’s just say I’m mentally telling it to calm the fuck down. Now is neither the time nor the place for my cock to act pre-pubescent, for fuck’s sake. I spent way too many times rearranging my junk as a teenager after Titch would laugh in that carefree way of hers. Now, I can’t even do that without giving the officiant another reason to pray for me tonight.
“I might have to agree with you there,” she replies, her cheeks flushing a little. She glances at me, a spark in her gaze that I haven’t seen since we had sex in the basement of Jackson Street.
I’m not sure if it’s there because I’ve finally made her laugh, or if it’s because she fancies the fuck out of us in these suits. Honestly, I don’t care either way, I’m just relieved to know that the Titch we all know and love is still there buried beneath this woman trying to hold herself together under the weight of this shitstorm we’re wrapped up in.
“Pretty sure I’m Frank Sinatra reincarnated,” I say, hoping for another smile at least.
“Wait, I thought it was Fred Astaire…?” Titch asks, biting her lip, that spark igniting between us. I can almost feel it sizzle over my skin, and this time I have to discreetly adjust myself. Lena really doesn’t need to see me turned on at her mum’s funeral.
“Hey, I’ll be whoever you want me to be, do whatever the fuck you want me to do, so long as you keep looking at me the way you are right now,” I reply hoarsely.
She drops her gaze, her cheeks flaring. “York, I—”
“Maybe we should continue this conversation later?” I mutter, framing my request as a question.
“Later,” she agrees, turning her attention back to the flowers before us. There’s a large display of yellow, pink and white flowers shaped into the word Mum. “Thank you for these. For everything today. It means a lot to Lena, and that means everything to me.”
It might be traditional to have flowers at a funeral, but I know for a fact that the only reason we paid for them was because, like Titch said, it was important to Lena. If it was down to the rest of us the bitch would’ve been chucked on a fucking pyre like the evil witch she was.
“You’re welcome,” I say, wisely keeping those thoughts to myself.
“Wait, who are those from?” Titch asks, pointing at a large wreath of blood-red roses resting against the letter M.
“Grim and Beast, most likely. They said they would be sending some.”
She shakes her head. “No, those are from Beast and Grim,” she replies, pointy at a small posy of pink tulips.
“Clancy and River?” I suggest.
Titch shakes her head. “I asked them not to.”
“A friend, maybe?”
“Mum didn’t really have friends. Acquaintances from the pub, maybe.”
“A well-meaning neighbour?”
“Mum hated red roses, said they reminded her of my father. Besides, none of Mum’s neighbours would have that kind of money to spend…” Titch’s voice trails off as she looks up at me, her face paling. That one look has my stomach turning over.
“Let me,” I say quickly, but she shrugs out of my hold and reaches for a small white envelope placed between two large roses. She plucks it free, holding the envelope in her hand. For a moment she just stares at it, and I find myself praying that her mum wasn’t the sad, lonely woman Pen described but had loads of friends who clubbed together to buy her this wreath.
Ripping it open, Titch reads the card, a strangled cry bursting free from her mouth a moment later.
“He’s here,” she whispers, her head snapping up.
“Let me see,” I exclaim, taking the card from Titch and reading it.
You look beautiful in that dress, Penelope.
Hasn’t Lena grown up?
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo…
Who’s toe should I take next?
“He’s here!” she repeats, looking frantically about her with wide, startled eyes. “We need to get Lena out of here, right the fuck now!” Her voice rises with every word, catching Xeno and Zayn’s attention who are standing the closest to us. They break away from the officiant who looks a little stunned by her outburst, and stride over to us.
“Titch,” I say, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look at me. “We’ve got ghosts dotted around the crematorium. If he was here, we’d know about it.”
“Then how does he know I’m wearing a dress?” she accuses.
“Just a lucky guess, nothing more.”
“What’s going on?” Xeno asks, looking between the two of us, alarmed by Pen’s sudden change of mood.
“This came with those flowers,” I explain, passing him the card.
“Motherfucker!” Xeno exclaims, his hand immediately reaching for the gun that I know he’s got strapped to a holster beneath his suit jacket.
“Xeno,” I warn, shaking my head as the officiant approaches, Dax and Lena following behind.
“Everything okay?” the officiant asks.
“Everything’s fine,” Xeno replies curtly. “But we need to get going.”
“Pen?” Lena questions, clearly not buying it.
“I’m not feeling all that great. That’s all. It’s been a long day,” she says, taking Lena’s hand in hers. “I’d like to go home now.”
Zayn nods, pulling out his phone. “I’ll get Gray to bring the car up.”
“That’s understandable. I’m very sorry for your loss,” the officiant says in that serene way all people of the cloth seem to perfect.
Lena gives him a tremulous smile. “Thank you for the beautiful service.”
“You’re very welcome. If there’s else anything I can do…?”
“We’re good,” I reply, placing my hand on the small of Titch’s back as I guide her towards the car that Gray has driven up from the carpark. I might be ninety-five percent certain that David isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean to say I want to take a chance on the five percent possibility that the fucker has somehow managed to bypass the ghosts and has his sights set on our girl and Lena right at this fucking moment.
“Wait,” Titch exclaims, stopping suddenly. She drops Lena’s hand and turns to face the officiant. “That wreath, did you happen to see who delivered it?”
He frowns “It was delivered by the florist about an hour before the ceremony started. We thought perhaps there was a mix up and that’s why it wasn’t added to the flowers in the hearse. We asked the driver to leave the flowers here so that the others could be added to it when the hearse arrived.”
“Do you remember the name of the florist?” Xeno asks.
“Why? Is there a problem with the wreath?”
“No, not at all,” Titch reassures him. “We’d just like to thank the person who sent the flowers. There isn’t a name on the card.”
“Ah, I see. Well, let me think…” He cocks his head to the side, trying to remember. “Eva’s Florists. Yes, that’s it. I’m sure it was Eva’s Florists.”
“The one in the high street?” Titch asks.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Thank you,” she replies, casting Xeno a look before grabbing Lena’s hand and climbing into the SUV, closing the door behind her. The officiant nods then walks back to the building, no doubt needing to get ready for the next service. How fucking depressing.
Dax loosens his tie, and pops the top button of his shirt waiting until we’re alone before speaking. “Looks like we’ve got a lead.”
“Or a wild goose chase,” I remark.
Zayn scoffs. “Yeah. I happen to agree with you, York. David isn’t stupid enough to leave a trail.” “Regardless, I need you two to check it out,” Xeno says, looking between Dax and Zayn. “See what you can find out. York, you go with Gray, take the girls home. Keep them distracted until we get back.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Tales. Hudson’s meeting Grim and Beast tonight. I want to fill them in. Perhaps Hudson can get Interpol to pull their fingers out of their arses and help us out.”
Dax grunts. “Yeah, and pigs might fly. They’ve done jackshit for us so far.”
We all laugh at that, because so far they’ve been less than fucking useless and we’re quickly running out of options. Sooner or later David’s going to make his next move, and with the way things are going, we won’t see him coming until it’s too fucking late.
