Free Graveminder by Melissa Marr

She politely nodded and calmly accepted hugs and arm pats. I can do this. She was only there for the last hour of the wake, but it felt longer than any she could recall. Even Ella’s.
    Thankfully, Cissy and her daughters had left just before Rebekkah had arrived. Overcome by grief , William had said with a stoic expression.
    Then the viewing was over. William took charge of the mourners, and Byron came over to her side.
    “Do you want a minute with her?” he asked.
    “No. Not yet.” Rebekkah glanced over at him. “Later. At the gravesite.”
    “Come on.” Byron deftly avoided several people who wanted to speak with her and led her back into his home.
    “I could’ve stayed,” she murmured as he closed the door behind them.
    “No one’s doubting you,” he assured her. “We have a few minutes before we go to the cemetery, and I thought you might want to catch a breath.”
    She followed him into the kitchen. Her dishes still sat on the table. “Thank you. I know I keep saying it, but you really have been better to me than I deserve.”
    To avoid looking at him, she busied herself rinsing her cup and plate.
    “Our ... friendship didn’t die for me,” he said, “even when you decided to stop returning my calls. It never will.”
    When she didn’t reply, he came over and took the cup from her hand.
    “Bek?”
    She turned, and he folded her into his arms.
    “You’re not alone. Dad and I are both here,” he said. “Not just last night. Not just today. But for as long as you need.”
    Rebekkah rested her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes for a minute. It would be so easy to let herself give in to the irrational urge to stay next to Byron. In all her life, no one else had ever made her want to stay in one place; no one she’d met since she left Claysville had made her want to think about commitments. Only you , she thought as she pulled away. She didn’t admit that. Not to him. He wasn’t hers. Not really . Not ever.
    Rebekkah smiled and said, “I’m going to freshen up before we go.”
    She felt his gaze on her as she walked away, but he didn’t say anything as she fled.
    When she returned from the washroom, William and Byron stood waiting.
    “She didn’t want a procession. It’s just us. Everyone else has gone ahead.” William held out his hand. In it was the tarnished silver bell Maylene had carried with her to the graveside.
    Rebekkah felt foolish for not wanting to take it. She’d stood here innumerable times when William wordlessly held that same bell out to Maylene. Slowly she wrapped her hand around it, tucking one finger inside to keep the clapper still. It was meant to be rung at the grave, not here.
    She turned to Byron to escort her to the car for the graveside service, just as William had once escorted Maylene. Byron would take her where she needed to go. His presence at her side since she’d returned last night felt right, just as it had when she first moved to Claysville, just as it had when Ella died, just as it did every time she saw him.
    I can’t stay here. I can’t stay with him. I won’t.
    As she clutched the bell in her hand, Rebekkah slid into the slick black interior. She put a hand out for the door, effectively blocking him from joining her. “Please, I would prefer being alone.”
    A flash of irritation flared in his eyes, but he said nothing about her rejection. Instead, his professional guise reappeared. “We’ll meet you at the cemetery,” he said.
    Then he closed the door and went over to the waiting hearse.
    I can get through this without him ... and then leave.
    Without Maylene, Claysville was just another town. It wasn’t really home. She’d tricked herself into thinking there was something special about it, but she’d lived in enough places to know better: one town was no different from the next. Claysville had some odd rules, but none of that mattered anymore. Maylene was dead, and Rebekkah had no reason to keep returning here now.
    Except for