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But he doubted that she wanted or needed him with her today. He might have claimed responsibility for her, but it didn’t mean she felt the same way about him.

So he followed behind Webb and sat down next to him at the end of the aisle.

He glanced at his watch as time went on and voices started to get louder. People were shifting around in their seats and staring back at the door.

Waiting.

The funeral celebrant wasn’t here, and neither was Aimee.

He glanced up as people around him started to speak louder and saw Kirsten walking down the aisle looking furious. She spotted him and stopped in front of him, her hands on her hips as she glared down at him.

“I thought you were here to take care of her. Wasn’t that the deal? Wasn’t that what you’d said you’d do?”

He stood up, alarm filling him. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Ed won’t let her bring in Kevin.”

“Who’s Ed?” Honey asked.

“And who’s Kevin?” Keira added.

“Ed is the funeral director,” Kirsten said, giving them a curious look.

“And Kevin is Aimee’s emotional support rat,” Ammo said. And those were words he never thought he’d string together.

“That is so cool,” Honey said. “Zander, can I have an emotional support rat in the bunker?”

“No,” Webb said in a sharp voice.

Honey glared at him.

“Not sure about a rat. What about a hamster?” Zander suggested.

“I would totally rock an emotional support hamster,” Honey said.

Webb just groaned.

“Well,” Kirsten said as she looked at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to go tell him he’s being a fucking asshole and to let her bring in Kevin.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Kirsten said, pumping her fist into the air. “Let’s go.”

“I want to go too,” Honey added.

“And I’m coming as well.” Keira stood. “How dare he not let her bring in Kevin.”

Ammo sighed, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop the two women.

Outside, he found Aimee standing with a short, skinny, bald man.

She looked pale and nearly in tears. Anger filled him as he strode toward her. Her hair moved, and he saw Kevin poke his head out. The older man, who had to be Ed, took a step back, giving her hair a horrified look.

“It’s . . . it’s in your hair!”

“Well, where else do you expect an emotional support rat to be?” Honey said, coming to stand beside Aimee.

Aimee gave her a shocked look. Most people looked at Honey like that. She wasn’t exactly subtle in the way she acted or dressed, although she’d toned it down today. She was wearing a tight black top with a wide tutu skirt. Half of the skirt was black and the other half white. On her legs she wore thick tights. Again, one side was white and the other black. But the opposite in color sides to the skirt. And she had on a pair of black lace-up Doc Martens.