What He Never Said ✔️

chapter twenty-six • the decision

"When god takes you back, he'll say, 'Hallelujah, you're home.'"
- Ed Sheeran

I stare at my phone, watching my mom attempt to call me for the fifth time today. I let it go to voicemail before turning the device off.

Tonight, my parents are having a burial for Raelyn. She's been gone for four months, but when she initially died in December, the ground was too cold to dig into. Now it's the perfect temperature, apparently.

Raelyn was cremated. I don't understand why they're burying her. What are they gonna do? Shove an urn into the ground? Seems like a waste of time.

Maybe I'm being harsh. Maybe I'm being selfish. I just don't see the point of hosting another "celebration of Rae's life"—Mom's words, not mine—and forcing everyone to relive the funeral all over again. That isn't fair to any of us, especially Vange.

"Bowie? You okay?"

I look up and see Zayna staring at me, her eyes filled with unmasked worry. I pull her into my lap and bury my face in her chest.

"What's going on, baby?" she whispers, stroking the back of my head with her fingernails.

"My parents are burying Raelyn tonight," I tell her.

"They are? You told me she was cremated."

"She was."

"That's... interesting. Are you gonna go?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know, babe. Benson might be there, and I really don't want to see him. Hell, I don't want to see any of them."

"Then don't go," she replies, lifting my chin and forcing me to look at her. "What time is the burial?"

"Five o'clock."

"Perfect. I have a meeting tonight at four-thirty. Afterwards, you and I can get dinner and then pay our respects to Raelyn, just the two of us," she suggests.

"Sounds perfect, babe." I bring my lips to hers in a chaste kiss before the weight of her words really hits me, sending me backwards in my chair. "Wait, a meeting? As in NA?"

Zayna nods her head, a pleased grin spreading across her face. "Yep! I already found a sponsor, too. She's a woman named Dorothea who's old enough to be my grandma, but she's been sober for almost fifty years, so she must be doing something right."

"I'm so fucking proud of you," I say, and I mean it with all of my heart. My girl is a warrior. I wish she could see herself through my eyes, even if just for a moment.

"Yeah, yeah," she brushes me off, but I can see the pride in her smile. "So... dinner at six?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I kiss her once again, this time with more ferocity. My fingers stroke the slender curves of her waist before giving her breast a gentle squeeze.

She's fucking hot. I wish she could see that, too.

"Dorothea is picking me up in twenty minutes. I have to get ready," she declares, rising to her feet and leaving my lap empty.

"Alright, babe. Good luck tonight."

She blows me a kiss as she saunters to the bathroom, wiggling her hips in a way that she knows will get me going. I have self-control, though, so I don't follow her, despite how hot it would be to fuck her in the shower.

Tonight is going to be hard, but I'm glad I'll have Zayna by my side. She's been my rock these past few months, the anchor keeping me grounded. I might have saved her from relapsing, but she saves me everyday.