I opened my mouth to retort when Grant decided he was going to jump into the conversation.
“You always were a selfish brat. Now move out of the way before someone comes out and walks into this scene. Stop being undignified … if you can manage it.”
I saw red. I was going to rip his throat out. I was going to break his nose. I was going to … pull my outraged girlfriend back because she stepped in front of me and jabbed the tip of her finger right in the center of Grant’s tie. It was rare to see her get so heated, so I took a step forward to put a hand on her shoulder just to keep her steady.
“How dare you?” She was furious on my behalf, fuming and fully in the midst of a redheaded fit of temper. It was awesome, but Grant narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “You’re nothing but an elitist bully. You were so fortunate to have a chance to raise a happy and healthy child, and yet you threw that away. Nash is a million times the man you’ll ever be.” Her eyes flashed as she looked between my mom and Grant. “You’re selfish and awful and you deserve each other. You didn’t earn the right to have Nash as a son.”
Grant made a strangled noise in his throat and took another step toward her. I reached around Saint and put a hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back. I made sure he understood the seriousness of what I was saying to him in my tone.
“If you so much as look at her wrong, I will break every bone in your body, and then when they heal I will break them all again. When I was a kid you were a dick and I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m not a kid anymore so you might want to watch it.”
“Are you threatening me?” He sounded indignant and prissy.
“No, I’m just telling you how it is. I don’t want you here, either of you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have to go give my father’s eulogy.”
My mom looked like she wanted to say something else, but just like she always did when Grant started to lead her away, she went willingly. I looked down at Saint and gave her a lopsided smile.
“Let’s do this.”
She clasped my hand and lifted one rust-colored brow at me. “Your real name is Nashville?”
I did something I never thought I would do on such a rough day: I laughed. “Yeah, and never mention it again.”
I walked into the church and sat her down next to Cora, who immediately wrapped my girl up in a hug. I kept going to the podium that was set up off to the side of the urn and little memorial the girls had created. There were pictures of Phil throughout the years, his first tattoo machine, his leather jacket, the bars off his navy uniform … it was a fitting and thoughtful tribute. I looked at it out of the corner of my eye, cleared my throat, and let my gaze wander over the crowd.
I saw Rule nod at me, saw Jet tilt his head just a little, Rowdy gave me a sad little half grin, and Cora just kept crying silently into Rome’s shoulder. It was those soft gray eyes I landed on. She was just watching me, serene and so precious. I ignored everyone else and focused what I had to say on her.
“I called Phil Donovan a lot of things for the time I had him in my life. Friend, boss, mentor, uncle, and at the end … dad. He was all of those things and so much more to so many. Phil took in anyone that was lost and tried to guide them in the right direction until they were found. In doing that, he brought a bunch of angry, frustrated, directionless souls together and now we have each other. We owe our family to Phil.”
I heard throats clear and saw bodies shift in the seats.
“When I was younger I wanted to be just like Phil when I grew up. I thought he was so cool, had the greatest job, and I admired how he lived his life on his own terms, all while trying his damnedest to take care of me. He was a great guy, and if you asked me then what he would’ve wanted to be remembered for, I would’ve said it was his art, his dedication to creating a place for creativity and individuality to flourish. Now …” I had to take a second to clear my throat and I curled my hands into fists on the podium in front of me. “Now I think my answer would be me. I’m a man that made his father proud. I’ll keep his dream, his legacy, alive and I’ll do it with his memory in mind every step of the way. I also think he would be proud of us. Despite the trials, the struggles, the roadblocks life has decided to throw in our paths, we are falling in love, getting married, having babies, growing businesses, and doing the things that make us happy. I think that’s all he ever really wanted for any of us. Phil Donovan will be missed, my dad will be missed—but he will live on in each and every one of us whose lives he touched and helped shape.”
I didn’t have anything else, so I said thank you, told the crowd that was silently weeping for the most part that anyone that wanted to share something was more than welcome to get up and take the mike, and went down to take a seat by my girl.
She had tracks of tears on her pale face and curled into me with her head on my shoulder.
“Thank you.” Her voice was a husky breath of sound.
“For what?”
“For being you.”
So there it was. I put an arm around her shoulders and listened to people tell stories about how wonderful my dad was, how impactful he had been, and I thought when it was all said and done I would take his ashes somewhere up in the mountains, drive the Charger way too fast, and let him go. It was an ending he would approve of all the way around.
CHAPTER 18
Saint
After the funeral, Nash looked like he was going to fall over from lack of sleep and stress. His friend Cora and her dad, who had been friends with Phil while in the navy, were having a get-together at her house for everyone. I knew Nash was going to try and power through and go, but he needed to go to bed and recharge. I didn’t want to say anything, wasn’t sure it was my place, but when I mentioned how burned out he looked, Rule and Rome both agreed, and told me I should take him home and put him to bed. Rule said it more with a leer, which had his brother thunking him on the back of the head, but all the same, when Nash broke away from the group that had commandeered him, I let him gather me up and told him, “Take me home.”
He didn’t argue, didn’t question it, didn’t stop to tell everyone else what he was doing, just whisked me away to the Charger and took me back to the Victorian. Once we were inside, he started peeling off his dark clothing, which was a delightful sight to see for sure, but after he took a shower and shoved some food in his face, he was obviously dead on his feet, which didn’t leave room open for talking, let alone anything else that might have been on the agenda.