Page 121 of Talk Wicked to Me

Baz and Tank exchanged a knowing glance, and Baz said, “I made a promise to someone special.”

“Speaking of someone special,” Tank said. “I think if Ash were here right now, she’d be right in the thick of it with the girls.”

“Hell yeah, she would,” Gunner said.

“For about five minutes,” Baz said. “Don’t you remember how she couldn’t sit still? She was always running around and dragging our asses somewhere.”

His brothers laughed.

“She was a pistol,” Tank said.

“Every time Sid calls me a pain, I hear Ashley calling me Dwayne the Pain.” Gunner shook his head. “God, I miss her.”

“You and me both, bro.” Baz held up his drink. “To the best sister to ever live.”

“Hear! hear!” his brothers said, and they clinked glasses and drank as Rosie and Junie ran over cheering, “Papa Tank!”

Tank set his glass on a table and scooped them up, one in each arm. “What’cha need?”

“You,” they said in unison, giggling as they wrapped their skinny arms around his neck.

“You’ve always got me.” He kissed their foreheads.

Baz hoped one day Brennan would feel the same about him.

“How’re you boys holding up?” their mother asked as she and their father sidled up to them holding hands. She had ridden on the back of their father’s bike on the ride that morning, and they’d been inseparable today.

“Good,” they all said. It was a rough day for all of them, but there was no need to voice it to the parents who had lost their daughter.

“We got Papa Tank!” Rosie exclaimed.

“I see that,” their mother said.

“We’re heading up to the stage,” their father said. “Are you about ready, or do you need some time?”

Baz and his brothers exchanged a glance, Gunner and Baz nodding to Tank, who said, “We’re ready.”

As their parents made their way to the microphone, the din of the crowd quieted. Their father spoke first. “For those of you who don’t know us, I’m Conroy Wicked, and this is my wife, Ginger. We’d like to thank you for coming out today and helping us raise awareness about suicide and support those of us who have lost loved ones. We lost our daughter, Ashley, when she was nineteen to what we’d thought was suicide. We later found out that wasn’t the case. We lost her to an accidental overdose. The thing nobody tells you about losing a loved one is that the pain doesn’t change when the reason does…”

Baz’s throat thickened as Emerson came to his side, and Leah and Sid went to Tank and Gunner. He put his arm around Emerson, whispering, “Are you okay? Is this too hard for you?”

“No,” she whispered. “There’s so much support for everyone. It helps. It’s my turn to be here for you.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her temple, holding her tighter as his father talked about shedding light on grief, and compassionate hearts working together to bring awareness to issues that could lead to suicide or drug use, and his hopes for creating safe environments where people feel comfortable asking for help.

His father put a hand on his mother’s back, giving her the floor.

“Our world is too big and too beautiful for anyone to ever feel alone,” his mother said. “If you have lost someone you love, this floor is open for you to share about them, so we can honor them, too. But first we’d like to invite our sons, Tank, Gunner, and Baz, to say a few words about their sister.”

Baz hugged Emerson, wanting to take her up onto the stage with him, but Leah and Sid had been in their lives long before Emerson was, and they weren’t heading up there. “Love you,” he said, and then he and Gunner waited as Tank set Junie on her feet. But Rosie clung to him like a koala to a tree and said, “I go with you!”

“Rosie, Mama said no,” Junie chided.

“Stay with me, Rosie.” Leah set Leo on his feet and reached for her, but she buried her face in Tank’s neck.

Tank looked pleadingly at Baz and Gunner, silently asking if they were okay sharing the stage with Rosie. Baz grabbed hold of that gold ring, nodding, and looked at Gunner, who said, “Hell yeah,” and went to get Sid.

Baz reached for Emerson’s hand. “Will you and Brennan come with me, darlin’?”