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“You willing to be my plus one?”

“To a funeral?” I whispered, somewhat surprised by how quickly they would organize such a thing.

“More like a celebration.”

“What?” The word flew out, despite my hand being on my lips.

“A celebration of his ride, his life.”

“Oh,” I nodded, finally understanding.

“Y– yeah I could do that.”

Chapter Seventeen

Beneath Church Clothes

C.C.

I couldn’t say what time Daisy and Eric walked out of that hospital. The sound of her opening the door woke me up. Brenna was already standing outside the car, having, apparently, called their attention to us.

“Well, it’s good to see you again, little buddy.” I looked back at Eric in the mirror.

He didn’t answer me, but I wasn’t put off none. The kid looked like he’d been through hell and back. Daisy kept him securely at her side, petting his arm and hair all the way to the curb in front of her house.

“We appreciate everything…” Daisy began, only to trail off when she noticed me shaking my head.

“Ain’t nothing to appreciate. It’s the least we could do, Daisy. Ya’ll, get some rest,”

“A good shower and rest, I’ll be by later to check on you,” Brenna promised.

Daisy flashed her a smile that seemed to take all of her energy.

We remained at the curb until she got the front door open, then I coasted back down the block.

“Where do you stay?” Brenna awkwardly asked, when I reached the first stop sign.

“On the edge of town. Across the street from Edy's trailer park.”

I didn’t wait for her to ask, I turned at the four way and gave her the formal tour.

“That bakery there has the best cinnamon rolls. Thick and dripping with icing.” I turned onto my lane and motioned toward the convenient store, “They got sixty cent soda pop that hit just right in the summer months.”

“That doesn’t look like a trailer park.” She laughed, when we coasted past the entrance to Edy’s.

“Nah, it's just a few on the road and two or three in the back. Most of ‘em are decent, except that asshole directly across from me. Him and his woman fight all day long, their girls are nice and respectful, though, don’t know who could have raised ‘em.”

I snorted and noticed the bike in the yard up the street.

“And that one is yours?”

“Mhmm.”

It wasn’t much, but it was mine. The place had been a low purchase in need of a few easy fixings, but she’d come a long way over the last few years.

“You got coffee in there?” She side-eyed me.

“No,” I admitted, slowing down just in case she were inclined for a visit, “But, I got sweet tea.”