“Yeah, but it’s not going to be the same without him.”

Her soft breath fluttered across the back of my neck as I linked a hand over hers where it was lying on my stomach.

“No, it won’t, but you’ll do your best to make his memory live on.”

Damn straight I would. It was the least I could do after everything Phil had done for not only me, but the rest of the wayward souls I called my family.

The next few days were chaos. I felt like I was the eye of a storm that raged around me. Saint got down to business before the sun even came up. She made the arrangements for his body to go where it needed to and to be handled in the way Phil’s last wishes asked for. In a matter of hours Phil’s condo was full of people. The girls all banded together to work on the funeral arrangements. Since Phil was going to be cremated, a viewing was set up for a few days from the day he passed. I had lost the ability to speak, to interact, and was just responding when spoken to, so it was up to Saint to run the show. My girl who was shy, hesitant, and nervous, took charge just like she did in the ER and I couldn’t have loved her any more if I tried. I could tell my friends noticed the way she rallied for me, propped me up, and they all fell a little in love with her as well. There was no doing any of this without her.

The guys were all tasked with alerting everyone of Phil’s passing. Phones were constantly going off, questions and answers were flying; one day faded into the next and I was in the center of it all, mostly numb and unresponsive. At some point I think Rule noticed my comatose state, and while there was a lot of business and details that still had to be handled, celebrating Phil’s life and the wonderful person he was definitely needed to be first on the agenda, so he asked Rome to put together a wake at the Bar on the fly. We were Donovans after all, so it was only fitting.

It was sometime into my third Jameson and Coke, with Saint propped up against my side while the Pogues played “Waltzing Matilda” and “If I Should Fall from Grace with God” on the jukebox, while everyone told sloppy sad stories about how Phil had impacted their life, that the chill and unresponsiveness finally started to fade. I was sad, I was lonely, I was scared, but more than any of that, I was determined to do my old man proud, and that was what he would want me to focus on.

I pulled Saint close to me. I kissed her on the end of her freckled nose and told her, “Thank you.”

She wrinkled her brows up at me. “For what?”

For everything, but that didn’t really cut it. “For being you.”

Her eyes got all shiny and bright silver like they tended to do when I said something that got to the heart of her, and she hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I let go, told Phil good-bye in my head, and raised a toast that had everyone hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs. It was a rousing send-off, a proper way to say farewell. All of the people Phil had touched, the family he had helped build, honored his memory and each other while getting properly sauced and living life with no regret.

The viewing was the next day. The girls had found a nice little church close to downtown and it was almost filled to capacity. Phil had a legion of friends he rode motorcycles with, old navy buddies—including Cora’s dad, who was holding baby Remy, a bunch of lifelong clients, and enough ex-girlfriends and lovers that all I could do was shake my head and high five the guy in my head.

All of the gang were standing outside greeting people as they walked in. It was an odd sight, all of us that were normally so colorful and bright dressed in shades of black and gray. Even Rule’s hair was a somber, solid black for the occasion. I loved that they all wanted to surround me, that I had a bunch of arms ready to hold me up if I was going to fall, but I felt pretty solid as long as Saint didn’t wander too far from my side. She was the rock I needed to stay grounded to here and now.

From inside the church, Johnny Cash’s version of “Danny Boy” started to play and I was subjected to a backbreaking round of man hugs, and heartbreaking hugs and kisses from the girls. Cora was openly crying already and I had only ever seen her do that when she was pregnant and when Rome got shot. Rule’s winter eyes also looked a little glassy and sharp, but he buried his face on top of Shaw’s head to hide it as they walked inside.

I clasped Saint’s hand and brought it up to my lips so I could kiss her knuckles.

“Ready?”

She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut again with a frown when the sound of high heels on cement suddenly interrupted us. I couldn’t believe she was here or that she had the nerve to bring him. I scowled at both of them.

“What are you doing here?” There was no hiding the bite in my tone.

My mom cleared her throat. “Really, Nashville, how would it look if we weren’t here?”

Seriously? I felt my back teeth snap together.

“I don’t care how it looks. This is a time for Phil’s family, the people that loved him. You made your choice and it wasn’t either of us, so you can just go.”

I felt Saint’s fingers curl around my elbow.

“You’re being ridiculous.” To my mother I always was.

I opened my mouth to retort when Grant decided he was going to jump into the conversation.

“You always were a selfish brat. Now move out of the way before someone comes out and walks into this scene. Stop being undignified … if you can manage it.”

I saw red. I was going to rip his throat out. I was going to break his nose. I was going to … pull my outraged girlfriend back because she stepped in front of me and jabbed the tip of her finger right in the center of Grant’s tie. It was rare to see her get so heated, so I took a step forward to put a hand on her shoulder just to keep her steady.

“How dare you?” She was furious on my behalf, fuming and fully in the midst of a redheaded fit of temper. It was awesome, but Grant narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “You’re nothing but an elitist bully. You were so fortunate to have a chance to raise a happy and healthy child, and yet you threw that away. Nash is a million times the man you’ll ever be.” Her eyes flashed as she looked between my mom and Grant. “You’re selfish and awful and you deserve each other. You didn’t earn the right to have Nash as a son.”

Grant made a strangled noise in his throat and took another step toward her. I reached around Saint and put a hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back. I made sure he understood the seriousness of what I was saying to him in my tone.

“If you so much as look at her wrong, I will break every bone in your body, and then when they heal I will break them all again. When I was a kid you were a dick and I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m not a kid anymore so you might want to watch it.”

“Are you threatening me?” He sounded indignant and prissy.

“No, I’m just telling you how it is. I don’t want you here, either of you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have to go give my father’s eulogy.”

My mom looked like she wanted to say something else, but just like she always did when Grant started to lead her away, she went willingly. I looked down at Saint and gave her a lopsided smile.

“Let’s do this.”

She clasped my hand and lifted one rust-colored brow at me. “Your real name is Nashville?”

I did something I never thought I would do on such a rough day: I laughed. “Yeah, and never mention it again.”

I walked into the church and sat her down next to Cora, who immediately wrapped my girl up in a hug. I kept going to the podium that was set up off to the side of the urn and little memorial the girls had created. There were pictures of Phil throughout the years, his first tattoo machine, his leather jacket, the bars off his navy uniform … it was a fitting and thoughtful tribute. I looked at it out of the corner of my eye, cleared my throat, and let my gaze wander over the crowd.