But as I try to steady my feet under me to get ready to stand up, I can’t.

I don’t want to lie.

“Things change, life moves on, and the world with it,” Delmont says. “But death? Death is as sure as night.”

I look up at him, listening to his words.

“It’s a part of us all.” He looks around at the audience as he starts to wrap up his speech. “The only thing we really leave behind is the work that we do and the people who love us.”

The people who love us…

“Amelia and Hannes didn’t leave anything on the table,” he concludes. “They always knew the answer to the most important question in one’s life—where do I want to be today?”

I stare at my parents’ caskets, closed, so we all would remember them the way they were.

And the tears start falling down my cheeks, now after days.

I hate them.

I hate them, and I’ve wasted too much time hating them.

This isn’t where I want to be.

You loved each other. I wipe my tears, looking over at them and the words I couldn’t muster before finally coming. You were luckier than most.

At least they had each other.

You were capable of so much when it came to love. I drop my eyes, staring at my lap, my fists clenching around my coat. And you considered what it would be like to live without love, because you decided not to live without each other. Did you consider what it was like for me—all these years—living without you?

Tears fall silently, and everything is blurry. I close my eyes, all the years of anger rising up as I grit my teeth.

I hate your house, I tell them in my head. I hate the stench of your perfume and your candles and your hairspray. I hate the feel of your clothes and the white walls, the white carpets, and the white furniture. I try to calm my breathing. The library full of books that have never been opened and how nothing was ever warm.

I hated you.

I can’t catch my breath. The air just feels too thick. I’m cold.

I hate how I never told you any of this. How I never fought or said anything or called you out. How I never walked out to look in the world for what I needed. How I let you win.

How I never let you know that you devastated me.

That’s where I wanted to be when they died. Standing.

That’s all I want.

But I was too much of a coward to talk to you, I mouth to myself, my tears now gone as I draw in a deep breath. Cowards always live to regret, because it’s only too late that they realize the journey is filled with people who are afraid.

They didn’t have to walk alone.

Noah

The chainsaw whirs outside, and I sit up in bed, swinging my legs over the side. I run a hand through my hair. Will he fight me if I don’t want to leave this fucking room today?

Kaleb ditched us and went hunting again yesterday, and Dad’s barely said three words to me in the last forty-eight hours. Fun, fun. It’s like old times again.

I shake my head and stand up, throwing on some jeans before leaving the room. I’m getting out of this house. Out of this town. In the middle of the night like a coward, because I can’t handle confrontation, but I’m leaving. Maybe he’ll realize how fantastic I was once he doesn’t have me to push around anymore. Because he certainly won’t get in Kaleb’s face.

And maybe Kaleb will finally utter a word when I’m not here to do all his talking for him.

I can’t do another winter with them. I’ll go crazy.

Heading downstairs, I walk into the kitchen and go straight for the coffee machine, seeing my dad step in from the shop. I grab a mug and then the pot, seeing it’s empty just as he stops to refill his, too.

I sigh, my headache swelling more.

“Just…” He shoves his cup and stalks away. “Make another pot.”

I cock an eyebrow but do as I’m told. How long has he been up?

He throws a loaf of bread, some bacon he fried up, and a couple boxes of cereal on the table with the milk and butter, and I dump out the used coffee filter, replacing it with a clean one.

Once the coffee grounds are loaded, I fill up the water container and start brewing, grabbing an Oreo from the package sitting on the counter.

What am I doing today? More of the same, but there’s always beer. I’ve got that to look forward to, at least, now that I missed my window for the sponsorship with DeltaCorps.

And now that the house is fucking silent again, because…

He sits down, making himself a sandwich, and I plop down across from him, taking a bite of the cookie.

But at the taste, my stomach immediately rolls. I force the bite down but toss the rest of the cookie onto the table.

I feel like shit.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” I grumble.

I miss her. We all miss her. Even Kaleb, too, I think. He came home twenty-four hours ago with some waterfowl, found her gone, and left again soon after, disappearing into the woods again for another whole damn day.

I miss coming downstairs and seeing lights on. Girls like it cozy and warm. I liked that touch she added to the house. And seeing her outside or in the barn or padding around barefoot in our kitchen… The house felt good. Even her pissy moods amused me.

The front door opens and Kaleb walks in, tearing off his shirt, bloody from whatever he’s stocking our freezer with for the winter. I can almost see Tiernan holding the back of her hand to her mouth, looking like she was about to throw up every time she saw him like that.

My heart aches a little.

“Just go get her,” I tell my father, but I don’t look at him.

Kaleb fills up a glass with water, and I wait for the argument from my dad, because there’s no merit in anything I think or say. He never listens, just responds in the exact opposite of whatever I want.

“She’s dealing with the death of her parents,” he says, swallowing his food. “She’s an adult. I can’t tell her what to do.”

“She’s not an adult,” I retort. “Her place is here. It’s your say. Not hers.”

He sits back in his chair, dropping his sandwich to his plate. I know what he’s thinking. I sound fucking crazy. Would I really want him to drag her back here kicking and screaming?

No.

Maybe.

“The funeral was only yesterday,” he tells me. “She might still come back.”

Yeah, right. We fought with her like assholes, and she took no time to decide to leave. Why would she come back? I wouldn’t.

I reach over and pick up the juice, uncapping the container and lifting it to my mouth.

But then a door slams upstairs, and I hear a creak of the floorboards.

I freeze, locking eyes with my dad.

His eyes narrow.

“Did you have someone over last night?” he asks me.

“No.”

I lower the juice, both of us training our ears.

Maybe Kaleb had someone…

But before I can finish the thought, we hear footfalls on the stairs and all turn our heads, seeing Tiernan swing around the bannister, dressed in baggy jean shorts, my T-shirt, hair a mess, and sunglasses shielding her from the morning light as she hugs herself against the chill in the air.

What the fuck?

“Morning,” she says through a yawn.

I shoot up out of my chair, gaping at her as she brushes past the table to the coffee machine.