Face-Off at the Altar
Page 107

The doctor nodded. “She may last a couple minutes, to an hour, to a day. There is no guaranteed timetable.”
Mekena’s mouth was open as she looked around, her tears coming as fast as her breath, and he wasn’t sure what she was thinking. As she let him go, she walked to the bed and looked down at her sister, her hands shaking. She couldn’t contain herself anymore, and the words just shot out of her. “I hate that you did this. I hate who you became. God, I’m so mad at you. For this. For hurting us, but damn it, Skylar, I’ll always love you. I’ll always remember the time we made clothes out of boxes, and then Mom made us put on real clothes to go to school. But you brought our box hats because you said we needed them. I’ll remember how you tried to teach me to dance, but we all know I suck at that. Or how I taught you how to do long division so that you would ask Matthew if he liked me. How you taught me to put on eyeliner, though I don’t wear it as much as you did. Or how you knew I stole all your clothes even when I wouldn’t wear them out of the house—” Her voice broke, and Markus reached out, taking her in his arms. She leaned her head on his shoulder as she closed her eyes. “I’ll remember the good, not the bad. I wish I could forgive you like Markus has, but that person wasn’t my sister, and I’ll forever hate her. But I will always love you. I will, I’ll always love my big sister,” she said, breaking down against him as the sobs left her in a soul-shaking way. She trembled against him, and he held her as she turned in his arms, clinging to him.
And there he would stay, holding his second chance, for as long as she wanted…
…as her sister died.
Desolation.
Hollowness.
Empty. Mekena just felt empty.
As the rain pelted the umbrella Markus held, Mekena leaned into him, her tears falling down her face as fast as the drops did from the sky. It figured it would rain on the day of Skylar’s funeral. It was like the world was crying for the girl who was lost due to poor choices and drug abuse. Beside her, her mother was crying so hard it physically hurt Mekena. Her father was stone-faced, strong for her mother as the minister said words. Mekena had no clue what he was saying because she wasn’t listening.
She was trying to keep it together.
And boy, was it hard.
Markus’s hand snaked around her waist, holding her in close as his lips pressed into her temple. Avery and Jace were behind her, Avery’s hand in hers from one row back. It was just a simple little movement, but it meant the world to Mekena. Avery’s gesture wasn’t the only one that meant everything to Mekena, though; it was all the people who showed up. Claire had flown in, even with everything that was going on with Jude. He had been traded to Minnesota and they weren’t even settled, but she came. Jayden and Baylor had come and Lucy and Benji, along with Autumn and River. Even Markus’s parents had shown up, and that blew her away.
But it was hard to be thankful when, inside, she was dying. As she looked at the urn that held Skylar’s body, her lips trembled while her heart broke. This was real; Skylar was gone, and all Mekena could do was try to take each breath slowly, one after another. She hadn’t thought this through. She hadn’t realized how much this would hurt. But really, why would she have ever thought to consider what she would feel if she lost her sister? That wasn’t something people thought about. They thought of happy shit, not life-altering, sad shit, but that was Mekena’s situation, experiencing the pure shit of life.
She hated it all. Glaring at her sister’s urn, she shook her head. She didn’t understand why they had to cremate her. Yeah, she was broken and they wouldn’t have been able to have an open casket, but why were they burying it? Why didn’t they just bring it home, keep it at the house? Why did she even care? Why was every single feeling eating her alive?
When Markus’s lips pressed into her temple, she closed her eyes, thankful for him. He had stood beside her as Skylar died, and it hadn’t been a quick process. They watched her, listening to her slowing heartbeat for three hours before the beeping stopped and they were met by only a long beep that the doctor had to come in and shut off. As Mekena had cried from her soul, he’d held her and continued to do so through the night and for the last three days. He cooked for her and her parents, helped pack up Skylar’s things, and even mowed the lawn for her dad when he couldn’t get out of bed.
But most of all, he was there. She couldn’t thank him enough for that. No matter what, he knew she could look over and he’d be there. It was an extremely overwhelming feeling of comfort, and she couldn’t help but love him a little more for it. She didn’t deserve such adoration from the man who was hurt by the very person who had passed.
But Markus only cared for her, not the past.
As the rain picked up, the sounds surrounding her were weighing her down. People were crying, her mother was a howling mess, and her father kept choking on something, maybe his sobs, she wasn’t sure. But it was all too much to take. Mekena wanted to leave. She wanted to get in bed and not move. She wanted to fall into a hole because, damn it, she blamed herself.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew she’d failed Skylar. She should have been there. She should have helped her, seen the warning signs, the cry for help, and been there. Instead, she blew her off, cut her out, and ran. She ran from her problems—from Markus, from Skylar—and what did that get her? Two years of loneliness, anger, and heartache toward Markus and hatred for her sister. As much as she wanted to believe Skylar heard her words in the hospital, she knew she hadn’t. She was already gone and would never know that Mekena had forgiven the girl who had been her sister. Mekena couldn’t even remember the last thing she’d said to Skylar. Was it that she hated her? Had she even told her she loved her in the last year or so?
Lord, what had she done?
As her vision clouded, she shook her head, unable to take it anymore.
“I want to go home,” Mekena whispered, and Markus looked down, his eyes full of concern as he stared into her flooded ones.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I want to leave.”
“Baby, it’s not over.”
“I don’t care. I want to go home.”
Markus looked around to the minister then her parents before looking back to her. “Can you hang out ten more minutes? It’s almost over, surely.”