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Kenna braced herself.
“Officer Wilde asked if you could attend the funeral with your... escorts.”
She meant Kenna’s FBI protection. She’d texted Hunt earlier asking if there was any way she could go.
“I wanted you to hear it from me. The answer is no. Not because of any malice, but because I want the focus to be on him, not your presence there. Tomorrow will be about his work, his friends, and his love for his students. The funeral I want to be about the family.”
The punch of hurt to her heart pained her. She held back tears. “Of course. Whatever you want.” She’d been prepared for the police and FBI to deny her anyway, but having Mrs. Perry do it herself cut deep.
“I’m sorry.”
She was, too. “Don’t be sorry for taking care of yourself and your family and asking for what you need. I don’t want to be the cause of any more pain for you.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way, especially since he cared for you.” Mrs. Perry’s words held all her sorrow. As much as she didn’t want Kenna at the funeral, she also regretted her decision to deny Kenna an invitation to attend.
“I understand. I will abide by your wishes and tell you now, you have my wholehearted condolences for your loss. I am truly sorry for what’s happened. I will never forget your son. I will always think of him with warm feelings and good thoughts about the memories we shared.”
Mrs. Perry sniffled. “You’re a good person. I appreciatethat you suggested the kids all wear yellow ribbons in remembrance of Marcus tomorrow. That’s very sweet of the children to do for him.”
“I wish we were celebrating Marcus for a different reason.”
“I know you do.” Mrs. Perry gathered herself with a deep breath. “He loved being at the school and coaching. He loved helping young people.”
“He will be missed by me and so many others,” Kenna choked out past her tight throat. “Take care, Mrs. Perry.”
“Stay safe,” she said back and hung up.
Out of sheer frustration, she slammed her head back against the wall, then buried her face in her knees and wrapped her arms around them and let the tears fall. Her shoulders shook with every wracking sob.
Ziggy whinnied and stomped his hooves.
Someone put a hand on her shoulder, brushed at her hair, and pressed something to the stinging stitches. “You’re bleeding,” Max grumbled. “You tore two stitches. What were you thinking hitting your head like that?”
Ziggy bent his head low and nibbled her hair.
“Back off.” Max pushed Ziggy’s big head away. Max’s body shifted and he slid his hands under her arms and pulled her up.
She went, because what else could she do, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she focused on the feel of his hands on her. The way he kept her steady. The warmth she felt being this close to him.
“You’re upsetting my horse,” he grumbled some more.
She tried to pull away, but he held on to her. “I’ll leave.” She needed to get away from him before she did something stupid and threw herself into his chest, held on to him for dear life, and hugged him until it didn’t hurt anymore.
Max sighed. “You’re bleeding. You’re crying.”
She didn’t really care, but she sucked in a steadying breath, because it seemed those two things bothered him. She wiped at her tears and nearly fell over when the room took a spin.
“Whoa.” Max scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the stall.
“I’m fine.” She did not feel fine.
“What’s happened?” Mike asked.
“She tore her stitches and nearly passed out. Get the truck door. We’re going back to the hospital.”
“Max, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re fucking not. But maybe you can convince the doctor to say that after he checks you out and fixes your stitches.” He set her on the seat in the truck.
