I feel his chuckle as he whips me around and locks me in a hold.

“What are you going to do?” he taunts, tightening his arms around me as I squirm. “Come on. What do you do?”

He only hesitates a moment before he releases me and digs his fingers into my stomach, tickling me. I curl up, trying not to laugh as both of us fall to the mat, my back crashing on top of his chest.

“No, no, no…” I hug myself against his onslaught, squirming and wiggling as I chuckle. “Stop!”

He finally does, placing his hands on my waist as I drop my head back to his chest and we both try to catch our breaths.

“Pretty sure you’ll all just need to chaperone me everywhere, because this is useless,” I tell him.

His chest shakes with a silent laugh, and within a moment everything is quiet as I lie there.

My body starts to warm, and my smile falls as I feel him under me, aware of every ridge of his muscles. Every bulge of his… body.

I turn my head, looking at him, and I see the embarrassment in his eyes, because he knows I feel it.

I made him hard.

My skin tingles under his fingers, and as he caresses my hips with just the barest touch, my eyelids flutter.

His eyebrows pinch together. “What is this?” he murmurs.

And I feel his fingers slip under the string of my panties.

He follows the fabric over my hip where it sticks out of my jeans all the way to the back where there’s almost nothing.

He knows what kind of panties I’m wearing, and his breathing turns labored.

“I got some in town today,” I tell him.

I like how they feel. How they look. The girls at school were wearing sexy underwear years ago already.

But he looks at me like he’s scared of me, and I rub my nose, seeing his Adam’s apple move up and down.

I didn’t mean to unnerve him. It’s not about sex. I just like feeling different and buying something Tiernan de Haas would never buy.

This is what comes with raising a teenage girl, Jake. He’ll see them in the laundry at some point.

“Tiernan?” Noah calls. “Your phone is ringing!”

I draw in a breath and slide off Jake, hearing him clear his throat as we both pull up to our feet.

Running into the house, I grab my phone off the island, seeing Mirai’s name light up on the screen.

I answer it. “Hey.”

“Tiernan,” she bursts out, sounding relieved to reach me. How long had the phone been ringing? “So good to hear your voice,” she says. “I haven’t heard from you. I was anxious to see how you’re doing.”

Jake steps into the kitchen, closing the door and catches my eyes as he walks for the fridge.

My pulse still races. “I’m good,” I tell her.

“You like it there? Everything is…fine?”

“Yeah.” I linger around the island as Jake cracks open a beer. “They keep me busy. Lots of sun and fresh air.”

“That’s good.” Her voice is gentle. Sweet. Had it always sounded like that? “As long as they’re kind to you.”

“Yes,” I say, knowing Jake is listening. “They’re kind to me.”

I meet his gaze, smiling as he rolls his eyes and smirks.

“Listen, I didn’t want to bother you,” she tells me, “but your parents’ funeral will be the day after tomorrow.”

I blink, looking away from my uncle. The funeral. Guilt overtakes me. I hadn’t thought about it in days.

I actually hadn’t thought about my own parents’ funeral.

“I’m really sorry about the rush,” Mirai continues. “With certain attendees, we were pressured to work around their schedules.”

I nod. “Of course.”

I feel Jake watching me.

“You don’t have to come,” she informs me. “Everyone will understand.”

My stomach sinks at the thought of getting on a plane. The idea of leaving here—going there… It’s the last thing I want to do.

But I don’t hesitate.

“Get me a flight, okay? Tonight is fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Jake sets his bottle on the counter, planting both hands as he stares at me.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Talk soon.”

“Okay,” she says. “Give me an hour.”

I hang up, and Noah must’ve heard, because he’s walking over as soon as I set the phone down.

“You’re leaving?” he asks.

But I look at my uncle. “My parents’ funeral is the day after tomorrow,” I tell him. “She’ll try to get me a flight tonight. I hate to ask, but can you give me a ride to the airport?”

“You sure you want to go?” He narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. You can stay. Or I could come with you.”

“You can’t,” I say. “The McDougall customization is behind. I’ll be okay. It’s fine.”

He pauses, the wheels in his head turning.

After a moment, he walks to the wall and grabs a set of keys.

He pushes them over the counter to me. “Take one of the trucks,” he says. “Park it at the airport, so it’s there when you come back.”

I stare at the keys.

There’ll be things to deal with at home. The house, the accounts, Mirai, the condolences, obligations they had with charities and fundraisers and…

“You’re not coming back,” Jake finally says when I don’t take the keys.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. My throat fills with a softball-sized lump that hurts so much. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t…

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. For sure.” I finally look up at him. “There’s a lot to deal with there. I can’t say how long I’ll be.”

He stares at me, and Noah has nothing to say for the first time since I’ve been here.

Jake sighs and picks up the keys, shoving his beer over to Noah before walking off without another look in my direction. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

Tiernan

It’s not raining.

I thought that was how it was supposed to be during a funeral.

Like in the movies. It always rains.

The shadows of the trees glide over the windows of the black limo as we ride through Glendale, on our way to the cemetery. I lean against the door, Mirai sitting across from me as the procession carries my parents to the chapel first, our car following.

Of course, it’s a beautiful day. The sun never failed to shine on my mother.

But then I roll my eyes behind my large, black glasses, letting out a quiet sigh. Yeah, I should totally say that in my eulogy. I’ll have the whole congregation rolling with laughter at all the cheese.

Jesus.

I stare out the window, rubbing my gloved hands together, but still, nothing comes to mind. Not in the thirty-six hours since I’ve been back in California. I can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound like a lie.

I mean, they weren’t without talent and beauty. Why can’t I muster a single heartfelt word to offer up at that podium to fulfill my final duty as their daughter?

I should be able to do that.

But no. Every sweet, saccharine lie makes me feel like a fraud, and I can’t utter the words, because I’ve lost the stomach to live in a way that isn’t genuine.