| |
––––––––
Becky gasped as the first strains of the bugle sounded. The wind whipped her hair behind her as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. The entire moment felt so permanent, so final. There was no going back after this—no pretending that he was coming home.
How could she be standing here at Brody’s funeral?
He’d been so young, so full of life. They hadn’t even started their life together, and now her dreams for the future were over before they’d begun.
Her mom and sister Melissa stood a few feet away, beside her father, all of them dressed in black for the solemn occasion. She’d stepped away from everyone after the honor guard had presented the folded flag to Brody’s parents, needing a moment to collect her thoughts, to just breathe.
She stepped back further, away from the shiny casket, away from the crowd of family and friends gathered there to support her and say their goodbyes.
Becky glanced down at the engagement ring on her finger, twisting it with shaking hands as it sparkled in the sunlight. Maybe she should have removed it, had it buried along with Brody. She felt like her own life had ended when his was taken, and a piece of jewelry to remind her of Brody was not going to bring him back.
She should just turn around and run away, pretend this whole affair was nothing but a nightmare. Maybe if she crawled back into bed, she’d wake up tomorrow and Brody would still be in Afghanistan, preparing to come home to her in a few short months. She wouldn’t have to stand here, enduring the worst day of her entire life.
The tears fell harder now, and she was sobbing, covering her face with her hands as if she could somehow keep the pain inside from seeping out. There was absolutely nothing holding her together, nothing to keep her from falling apart.
She shook as the endless sobs wracked her body, and suddenly a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders as a six-foot-two Marine eased her into his arms. She wasn’t sure which of Brody’s friends had stepped away from the crowd to comfort her and didn’t care as she leaned into his solid strength, grateful to have someone there to hold her up.
“I’ve got you,” a deep voice said gently. A voice she recognized, would know absolutely anywhere, but she had to be mistaken. Because Brody’s best friend made himself scarce anytime she was in the room. He would barely even speak to her on a good day, let alone comfort her when she was upset.
He certainly wouldn’t be the one to ever hold her as she cried.
She felt like the world tilted on its axis as she finally glanced up and scanned his chiseled features. Because the man holding her, looking down with concern in his brown eyes where before there’d been nothing but cool disinterest before, was Matt Beckett.
