Loving Kate Beckett (The Loving Series Book 2) by CC Monroe

Author:CC Monroe [Monroe, CC]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2020-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Nick

“You ready to do this?”

Kate found me as I was getting out of the shower, and she asked me to hold her for a long while. So I did, in the middle of the steamed-filled bathroom. She cried, mumbled under her breath, and then cried some more before she asked if she could take a bath alone.

I feel selfish to say that it hurt. That’s when I began to worry that she was starting to regret the night we shared, but she hasn't mentioned it, and I don't plan to either. Today, we pick up Eric’s ashes, and I do media and damage control. Kate, the band, as well as Sadie, and I will clean out his apartment, and I will be on the sidelines waiting to gather up my woman when she needs me.

No one says much. Just the occasional “Where does this go?” and “Should we toss or keep this?” Other than that, it’s nearly barren in the apartment. Kate assured me she was ready to come here after collecting his ashes. A simple yes as her fingers gently caressed over the burgundy wood in her hands. That wood caught her tears the entire way over, keeping her focus, and I didn’t interrupt. Grief’s gravity can’t be beaten, but with time and will, one can move on. Watching Kate today had me questioning if she had any will at all.

Nothing prepares you to watch the woman you love crumble over the loss of someone she once loved in the way you hope she would you. My grief is silent, but it’s just as heavy.

§

Kate

“Hey? You okay?” Sadie pulls me from my spiral down a rabbit hole of pain, regret, grief, and every other emotion on the human spectrum.

“Yeah. Sorry.” We picked up Eric’s ashes today, and I swear I can still feel that box sitting heavy in my hands, even though the box is down in Nick’s car. Then add all of his personal items that I’ve sifted through as we pack up his things—his entire life in a few boxes—and one might as well have doused me in cement for how much weight is on my shoulders. The entire day is so damn heavy. It’s burning and clawing at my heart. My soul is weeping, my body is exhausted, and my mind can’t help but go over the past forty-eight hours.

Eric is dead. Those words send a chill up my spine. I haven’t said it much out loud, but in my mind, I’ve said those words a thousand times. For what? Hoping it would bring him back so we could save him? So he could meet his future child? So he could just simply be again?

Whatever the reason is, it doesn’t make it any easier to vocalize. Now every moment, each breath is focused on where I’ll go from here. Eric will never know he was a father. He will never get to meet him or her. Maybe they would have been the one thing to finally save him.

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