Chapter 77: Chapter 77
The church was too quiet.
Too reverent, and too heavy. The church came with the kind of silence that clawed at the inside of your chest like grief had taken physical shape.
Candles burned on the altar, flickering like they were shivering, and outside, rain whispered against the windows like the sky couldn’t keep its sorrow to itself either.
Celeste stood at the back of the church, her fingers wound tight around the program. The words blurred every time she tried to read them. "In loving memory of Eleanor Cross."
Nana.
The woman who had taken her in when she was nothing but a mess of uncertainty and bruised hope. The woman who had loved her like a daughter. Who had loved Dominic with the kind of gentleness that made people believe in goodness again.
She inhaled sharply, catching herself.
Dominic.
He sat on the first pew, next to Roman, his elder brother. Roman had an arm around Dominic’s back, his eyes fixed on the priest speaking at the altar. But Dominic hadn’t moved since the service started. Not once.
Not even when the hymn played, and they all had to stand. Not even when the priest mentioned Eleanor’s name. Not even when Roman gently leaned over and whispered something close to his ear.
His hands were clenched over his knees. Jaw locked. Shoulders taut beneath the black suit. He was the perfect description of a man carved out of grief.
Celeste couldn’t help but ache for him. She ached for herself, too. But mostly for him. Nana had been his soft spot, and now she was gone.
She walked slowly toward the pews. People had already filled them up. Amara sat on the other end of the aisle, her eyes rimmed red but dry now. She gave Celeste a small nod, a silent offer of support that Celeste returned with a faint touch of her hand against Amara’s shoulder as she passed.
She slid into the pew behind Dominic, her presence quiet, careful. She didn’t reach out to him. Didn’t speak. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words since they got the call three days ago, and he told her about it.
He didn’t even speak when he finally arrived at the Cross estate at the last hour. Not when the doctor said there was nothing else they could do. Not when he signed the release forms, blank-faced. Not when they took Nana’s body away.
He’d simply whispered, "Alright," every time he had to. And then nothing more.
Celeste folded her hands in her lap, trying not to look at him too long. Trying not to cry. Not again.
The doors at the back creaked.
Landon.
He walked in like he belonged there. Which, unfortunately, he did. Nana was his grandmother too.
Even in grief, he had that smug entitlement about him. Dressed in a perfect tailored suit, his expression somber, and his presence still wrong. Celeste didn’t miss the flicker of disdain in Roman’s eyes when he turned to see who had entered.
Landon didn’t approach the front. He sat farther back, two rows behind Amara. Celeste glanced once over her shoulder. He met her gaze.
There was something in his eyes. Something bitter. Or maybe calculating. She couldn’t be sure.
The service moved on.
The priest spoke of Eleanor’s kindness, her warmth, her charity. Stories were told about how she made strangers feel like family. How she could disarm a room with her laughter. Celeste could almost hear her voice. Almost.
Celeste hated how people who didn’t even know her had something to say.
Then finally, Roman stood to speak. He cleared his throat, holding a crumpled paper in his hand. However, he didn’t read from it.
"She was our anchor. For Dominic and I, she was the only one who didn’t ask us to be anything other than her sons. She didn’t care about the family name. She didn’t care about the business or the blood. She cared about whether we ate. Whether we slept. Whether we were breathing without pain."
His voice broke.
Dominic didn’t look at him.
Roman inhaled and steadied himself. "I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she hugged. Or how she prayed. Or how she always knew when I was lying. Even when I was good at it."
That drew a soft laugh from a few of the guests. The kind of laugh that ached.
Roman stepped down after a few more words from the heart.
The priest invited anyone else to speak, but no one moved. Celeste wanted to. But her legs didn’t work.
Dominic stood.
A few heads turned in surprise. He walked to the altar, slow, deliberate. The silence grew thicker. Even the rain seemed to stop.
He stood before them, hands at his sides. And for a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly, his voice low: "My mother once told me that love wasn’t something you earned. It was something you gave."
He looked down. "She gave it. Always. Unconditionally. Even when I didn’t deserve it."
Celeste’s throat tightened.
He didn’t say more. It felt like what he said was him trying to fulfill all righteousness by saying some last words as her son.
He walked back to his seat without looking at anyone. And when Celeste turned to watch him sit, she saw his hands shaking slightly.
His face was stone, but she caught that slight movement that shattered her heart badly.
After the service, people moved to the cemetery for the burial.
It was colder there. Wind cut through coats, but Dominic didn’t flinch. He stood at the head of the casket, looking down, his arms crossed over his chest. Roman stood beside him. Amara and Celeste stayed behind them, flanking.
Landon hovered like a shadow at the far edge.
When the casket was lowered, Dominic didn’t even blink. There was no reaction from him. Celeste waited for it. She prayed for it, even. Just a crack. Something to show he wasn’t entirely gone. He was beginning to scare her by being this way.
Dominic just said, "Goodbye," and turned away.
Celeste followed him, quickening her steps to catch up.
"Dominic," she said softly.
He didn’t slow.
"Dominic, talk to me."
"Not now, Celeste."
She stopped walking.
That was the most he had said to her in three days.
He kept walking.
Roman caught up to her. "Give him time," he said. "He’s drowning in it. He just doesn’t know how to come up for air."
Celeste nodded, eyes burning.
At the far end, Landon watched it all.
And for the first time, even his eyes seemed to flicker with something like guilt. It was fleeting.
Celeste turned back to the casket as they began to cover it. She whispered, "Thank you, Nana," and tucked a white rose into the soil.
Dominic didn’t look back.
He got in the car and left.
Without a single word to her, or a glance.
Celeste, broken-hearted, finally let the tears fall. He was becoming so different.