Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (32 page)

“I think we need to start over.” He bats his eyelashes and shoots me a sexy smile. “I’m Jackson Avery.”

What a goofball. I smack his hand away. “Get over yourself and help me do the dishes.”

He grins and follows me to the sink. “So we’re friends again?” he asks in my ear.

Ignoring the shiver that runs through me, I nod curtly and shove him with my elbow so I can get some space. The last thing I need right now is Jax clouding my head.

After we get the kitchen clean, I settle at the table with my laptop and my mom’s bills.

“So what’s the plan for next semester?” Jax asks.

Keeping my eyes firmly planted on the bills in front of me, I say the words I’ve been dreading. “Can’t afford to go back. Not right away at least.”

“Did your mom have any life insurance?”

I nod and explain my cashflow problem. But regardless of the bills or tuition, my mom’s funeral is my priority. My eyes well up for the millionth time this week.

Jax reaches for my hand as someone knocks on the front door. Susan doesn’t wait for me to answer it. Instead, she pokes her head in.

“Dani?”

“Back here,” I call out as I blink the tears away.

My mom’s best friend is bundled in a thick coat, hat and scarf. After unwrapping a few items of clothes so I can see her face, she digs into her pockets and pulls out my credit card.

“Tomorrow is all set, honey,” she says. “The memorial starts at eleven, and the funeral procession starts around noon.”

“Thanks, Susan. I don’t know what I would have done without you this week.”

She smiles sadly and pats me on the shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

I glance down at the white piece of plastic in front of me as anxiety coils in my belly. “Am I maxed out yet?”

“Nope.”

My head tilts as I look at her sideways. “Really? I thought you said it would cost about nine grand.”

She shrugs. “Honey, sometimes things just have a way of working themselves out.” She looks to Jax and grins. “Son, are you enjoying our fine weather?”

He smiles back, and they chat like they’ve known each other a lifetime. I’m still scratching my head about the cost of the funeral when she leaves. With a trace of a migraine still spotting my vision, I decide to worry about it tomorrow.

It isn’t until morning that I realize I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to my mother’s funeral. Travis finds me sobbing on the floor of my closet, and he tucks me under his arm, sets me down on the love seat and riffles through my clothes until he finds a black wrap-around dress.

I hiccup. “That’s not mine.”

“Sweetheart, it was in your closet, and it’s your size. I’m not good at math, but I’m guessing two and two equals four, so that must mean it’s yours.”

“Your folksy logic is pissing me off.”

He smirks and throws it at me. “Put it on.” It lands on my head, and I roll my eyes.

Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed. I leave my hair down because I don’t have the energy to do one more thing. “Is this okay?” I ask.

Travis looks me up and down. “Yeah. You look hot.”

I stare at him dumbly. “I’m dressing for my mother’s funeral.”

“Trust me. She’d think you looked hot too.”

I shake my head at him. My typical responses—a laugh and a sarcastic remark—are a distant thought as I walk downstairs. When Jax sees me, he stops mid-step, and his eyes widen.

“What?” I ask, self-conscious now.

“Nothing. You look beautiful.”

I bite my cheek, unsure how to respond to compliments on a day like today. I frown, feeling like I can’t make sense of the world anymore.

As though understanding my inability to function, Jax walks me to the closet and helps me put on my coat. I go through the motions. One arm, then the other before we walk to the car. I watch the muted world outside as we drive to the funeral home.

I’m burying my mother today.

Funerals are done for the living. It’s a way to deal with the passing of a loved one because my mother can’t appreciate the color of her casket, the bouquets of flowers I bought to decorate the room, or the headstone I had engraved.

She’ll never know I can’t afford to go back to Boston.

As we walk through the front door of the funeral home, I choke back a sob at the thought that I lied to her and can’t finish my degree at BU.

“Come on, sweetie,” Travis says as he hands me a tissue.

He wraps an arm around me and holds me in a hug. Jax walks ahead to talk to Susan, who is congregating with a dozen of my mom’s friends. I eye the podium, and the blood drains down my body as I realize I should have prepared something to say. At some point during the last few days, Susan mentioned something to that effect, but between the booze, Travis and Jax shocking the hell out of me by visiting, and the trauma of waking up on Christmas morning to find my mother cold and stiff in her bed, I forgot.

Panic overwhelms me, and suddenly I can’t breathe. Blood is pounding in my ears.

“Honey, sit.” Travis guides me to a chair in the front row, and I feel him motioning to someone. Jax walks up on the other side of me and pulls me to his chest.

“Breathe, baby. It’s going to be okay.”

Thankfully, Susan gets up first and talks about how brave my mom was in the face of cancer. She shares beautiful stories about their time together as neighbors for twenty years. I tune out, the ache of hearing so many painful memories overwhelming.

When it’s my turn to speak, Travis walks me to the dais and holds my hand until I grab hold of the podium. Taking a deep breath, I decide to ignore all the people who have come, and I just start talking from the heart.

“One of my mom’s favorite quotes was by Hemingway, who said that ‘the world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.’ The rest of the quote is actually atrocious—something about how those the world doesn’t break, it kills—but my mother, the eternal optimist, preferred to ignore that.”

People in the crowd nod, offering sad smiles. Jax sits in the front row, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed.

“I can’t say anything about her life that would do her justice except that despite all the hard times we had, and there were many, I never felt the pressure of the world—the weight of what stood to break her, to break us—because she protected me. Until this last bout with cancer, I honestly felt that each battle she faced made her stronger. Even cancer made her this incredible life force.”

I wipe away the tears coating my cheeks. “She and I are different in so many ways. Where I am scared, she was brave. Where I want to hide, she took chances. Where I hate being hurt, my mom said the hurt made her feel alive.”

Bringing the tissue to my nose, I sniffle.

“She thought I was brave for going to Boston for college, but I could take that chance because I had her in my corner. I had her to cheer me on, to push me to be better, to help me find my way, and I know not everyone is as fortunate.”

Jax raises his head, and we stare at each other.

Looking away, I clear my throat. “I guess I hope to embrace the challenge of life and love the way she did even though it’s easier to run and it’s easier to hide.”

Turning toward the casket, I stare at the large framed photo Susan had printed. “Mom, thank you for taking the risks and feeling the breaks and letting yourself be strengthened by all the bullshit in this life.” I cover my mouth, unable to speak. I can’t see anyone through the tears in my eyes. I take a shuddering breath. “You’ve been telling me lately that if I’m going to curse, to say it like I mean it.” I laugh as I think about what I want to say. “You were the best fucking parent. I love you, and I hope to make you proud.”

Travis helps me walk back to my seat as everyone applauds.

“Why are people clapping?” I ask Travis. It’s a funeral. Who claps at a funeral?

“Because that was fucking incredible.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

- Dani -

All I can do is stare at the headstone.

I had ordered a simple, flat grave marker because three hundred dollars was all I could afford. The one in front of me is an upright stone in two tones. On the polished black side, it says, “Beth Hart, beloved mother and friend.” On the polished grey side, a cutout butterfly perches as though it is about to take flight. It’s lovely, but astronomically out of my price range.

I glance around at the stones nearby, which are all flat, like the one I thought I had bought. My mother’s gravestone is enormous in comparison, like it belongs in the other lot with the family plots and expensive mausoleums.

“This has to be a mistake,” I whisper to Susan, who has her arm looped through mine. “This one costs like three grand. And they told me it wouldn’t be ready for a week unless I paid extra.” I remember flipping through the brochure and being aghast at the prices. “I… I can’t afford this.”

She pats my hand. “It’s all taken care of, honey. Stop worrying.”

“Did you pay for this? It’s beautiful. I know she’d love it. If you can wait until this summer, I can pay you back.”

Susan turns to me. “You don’t have to because I didn’t pay for it.”

Now I’m confused. “Okay,” I say slowly. “Who did?” Maybe Mom’s friends in her book club pooled their money together.

She turns me around until I’m facing Jax who is standing on the other side of the tent, talking quietly to Travis. “That’s who you should thank. Jax paid for everything today. He wanted you to think I covered these expenses, but that wouldn’t be right. You should know that lovely boy did this, and he picked this headstone, specifically requesting the butterfly after he saw your mother’s stained glass in the kitchen. He paid extra to have it ready today.” She nods toward him. “He’s a keeper.”

Then she walks off, leaving me with my mouth gaping open.

I wait until we’re in the car to freak out. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Jax, you said we’d be friends. How can you lay down twelve grand for my mother’s funeral? Wasn’t money at the heart of our little misunderstanding?” The irony of the situation is not lost on me.  “Would you do that for any friend?”

“I don’t know about
any
friend.” He looks at me sideways as he pulls onto the highway. “But I would for my girlfriend. In a heartbeat.”

I still, not knowing what to say. Behind me, Travis kicks my seat, and I shake my head. “I thought you don’t date. I thought you don’t have
girlfriends
.” Or at least not anymore. “I mean, not since Giselle.”

“I don’t. But I’d like one.”

“Just one?” I look over at him, almost afraid of the answer.

“Just one. Just you.”

Numb from the funeral, I can’t seem to process his words. We’re quiet the rest of the drive. Even Travis is silent. When we get to my house, Travis immediately disappears upstairs, but I’m not quick enough to do the same. Jax grabs me the moment my coat is off and wraps me in a hug, pressing me to his hard body.

“I’m so sorry you had to bury your mother,” he whispers. Feeling his arms around me makes me relax. “She sounded like an amazing woman.” I press my cheek to his shoulder and close my eyes, bracing myself so I don’t cry. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I swallow back tears and focus on taking deep breaths.

Jax strokes my head. “Let’s do this, Dani. We’ll go slow. But I want you in my life, and I think you want me too.”

He nuzzles in my hair, and I close my eyes, surprised by how good it feels to be in his arms. He runs his nose against my jaw, and I inhale his scent. I could get lost in the way he smells and how he holds me. So lost.

That thought alone makes me stop. I put both hands on his chest and push him away so I can look him in the eye.

“I appreciate everything you did for me today, but if we’re being honest, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

He stares back, not flinching.

“I’m okay needing to prove myself to you.” Ignoring my hands, he tugs me closer until we’re nose to nose. “Let me prove it. That I can be yours and only yours.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you because I know I’m an idiot sometimes, but I want to try, and maybe if you help me, I can be more for you.” He takes a deep breath. “I want to be more for you.”

I’m at a loss for words.

He stares like he’s trying to memorize my face. “I swear you’re the only woman I want. Even when we were apart, you’re the only girl I’ve thought about.”

I wiggle out of his grasp. “You slept with other women.” My eyes dart down as I remember his date in the limo.

 “I haven’t slept with anyone in months. Yeah, I’ve gone out with other people, but I swear I haven’t slept with anyone.”

I find that hard to believe, and I half laugh. “So you haven’t slept with anyone since Thanksgiving?” I stare at him, daring him to answer.