Reaching the doors, Sage keeps me with him while he holds one open for my parents and Chris to precede us before leading me inside. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and when they do, I notice the woman standing just inside the front room. Studying her from where my feet have suddenly gotten too heavy to move, I squeeze Sage’s hand.

I saw a picture of Ginny Mavis once when Kelly showed it to me on her cell phone, but where that picture had been bad, showing a frail woman who smoked too much, drank too much, and wore too little clothes, the woman standing before me is in even worse shape. Since that picture was taken, she has lost twenty pounds she couldn’t afford to lose. Her dyed black hair has grown out three inches, leaving a stripe of almost white down the center of her scalp. Her skin is wrinkled and pale, almost yellow from lack of nutrition, and obviously, her smoking and drinking has gotten even worse.

“Kimberly?” she prompts like she has no idea who I am, and the twisting in my stomach moves to my heart.

“Ginny.”

She lifts her chin an inch then moves her eyes over me before they land on my family that’s gathered close.

“I didn’t know you were bringing people with you.”

“Sorry,” I say, not really sorry at all. I wouldn’t have been able to make it through these last few days without these people, and I’m not sure if I would have found the courage to come without their support.

“I guess it don’t matter now,” she mutters, and I fight the urge to yell at her, to scream and ask, How? How can she stand a few feet away from the daughter she gave away after losing the daughter she raised? How can she stand there and act like this moment isn’t an important one? “We should get this done. I need to be on my way. I got things to do.”

“Get this done?” I breathe as my throat starts to tighten around a lump forming there.

“Yeah, I ain’t got all day,” she clarifies before she moves her eyes to my parents, who I can feel bristling at my side. “I got work. Ain’t no one givin’ me any handouts.”

“Jesus fuck,” Sage growls, and she looks at him.

“You’re right. We do need to get this over with,” Chris says, stepping in front of us and blocking her from view. “Have you spoken to anyone since you arrived?”

“No, ain’t no one been out here since I got here.”

“All right, why don’t you come with me and we’ll go find someone to help us?” he offers, taking her arm like a gentleman and leading her away.

“Di… did that just happen?” I ask, and Sage gives my hand a squeeze while my mom takes my other hand in hers, holding it tightly.

“This will all be done soon,” Dad mutters, and I pull in a much-needed breath then let it out slowly.

“What do you mean you divided the ashes?” I hear shouted, and I force my mom and Sage to release me so I can take off toward the sound of Ginny yelling. Walking quickly past a row of caskets, I make it to an open door at the end of a long hall, where I find Ginny, Chris, and an older gentleman, who must be the funeral director, arguing.

“You told him to divide her ashes?” Ginny yells, looking at me as I step into the room, and I nod.

“Ma’am, please keep it down,” the director urges quietly, while Chris takes a step back from Ginny when she tries to take a second, much smaller box from him.

“Who gave you the right to do that? Who do you think you are?”

“I….” My hands ball into fists, and my jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised I don’t break any teeth. “I’m no one, and no one gave me the right to do it, but I did it anyway.”

“You have no fucking right to any part of her,” she seethes, and my throat burns as I try to swallow down the tears climbing up the back of it.

“I asked them to put a little of my sister’s ashes in a separate box for me so I could have them blown into two glass balls. One I was keeping for myself and one I planned on giving to you.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” she hisses, and my eyes slide closed as I feel Sage get close to my back—offering support, giving me what I need, him not having any idea he’s even doing it or how much I need it.

“Please give her both boxes.” I open my eyes, and Chris, who is holding the smaller box in his hand, shakes his head. “Please,” I plea, and he reluctantly hands it over while the older gentleman gives her the larger box. “Thank you,” I say quietly, and then I turn around, not giving Ginny another glance. I let Sage lead me out of the room and down the hall. Stopping before we reach the door, I turn back around, realizing this isn’t over yet. “I still need to pay for the cremation. I—”

“We’ve got it, honey,” Mom murmurs, reaching out to give my arm a squeeze. “Why don’t you let Sage take you out to his car, we’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, fighting back tears I refuse to let fall. I won’t cry here. I won’t do it where there is a chance Ginny could see me break down. She doesn’t get to know she hurt me.

“Come on,” Sage urges gently, gathering me against his side. As I’m tucked under the protective strength of his arm, he leads me out of the building and back down the sidewalk toward where we parked when we arrived. As soon as we reach his car, he opens the passenger side door, moves us around so that, even though we are still out in the open, we are blocked by the door and tinted window.

Wrapping one arm around my back and his other hand around my skull, he tucks my face against his chest then drops his head until his mouth is near my ear. “You can cry now.”

Clinging to him, the tears I’ve been holding back begin to fall. I wish I could say I was only crying for my sister, but in truth, I’m crying over the woman who gave birth to me. But I promise myself these will be the only tears I ever shed over Ginny Mavis.

“You okay, honey?” Mom asks, and I turn to look at her over my shoulder from where I’m sitting in the front seat. As soon as my parents and Chris came out of the funeral home, Sage told me they were approaching, so I quickly wiped away the tears on my face and got in the car. Once he slammed my door, I expected him to walk around to the driver’s side, but he surprised me by stopping my parents and Chris to talk to them. It gave me some much-needed time to get myself under control before they all got in the car.

I know my parents understand I’m upset, but I don’t want them to worry any more than they have. They already feel guilty they have to leave tomorrow to get back to work, and I don’t want to add to that remorse. “Honey?” Mom prompts, and I come out of my head and nod.

“I’m okay,” I assure her, seeing the worry and anger in her eyes. “Promise.” Sage reaches over to take my hand and pulls it to his lap.

“That woman isn’t worthy of the air she’s taking up by being alive,” Dad grumbles, and I turn around to look at him. Those words were not only harsh but also full of pain, and that statement coming from my dad means he’s upset.

“Dad—”

“No, don’t try to make me feel bad for feeling that way. She was a horrible woman when we met her at the hospital when we adopted you, and she hasn’t changed. The only thing I wish was different is that she would have let us have Kelly, too.”

“Me, too.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying, and Sage’s hand squeezes mine.

“Sage,” Chris interjects a minute later, and I look at him to find his eyes on Sage’s in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah?” Sage answers.

“You know how to get into someone’s house unnoticed, don’t you?” he asks, and I wonder where the hell he’s going with this.

“Why?” Sage questions, instead of answering with the fact he has no idea of how to get into someone’s house unnoticed, making me raise a brow.

“I want to break into Ginny’s house and get that box,” Chris explains casually, like he’s talking about what color the sky is and not about breaking and entering then robbing someone.

“Chris, that is not happening.” I shake my head at him.