Page 25 of Never Forget
Mark and I stood near the front, receiving mourners as they filed past. His hand was warm in mine, steady, and every few minutes he would squeeze my fingers gently as if to remind me he was there. Hundreds of people moved through the line. Havensworth had turned out for Jack Donovan, and I wasn't prepared for how much it would undo me.
The department may not have given Jack official recognition, but the men who worked beside him were giving him theirs. I saw them filling the pews in dress uniforms pressed sharp, white gloves bright against navy fabric, badges covered with black bands. Men from Station 33 sat shoulder to shoulder with crews from stations I didn't recognize. They had come anyway, all of them, even though the city said my brother's death didn't count.
Mark's thumb traced a small circle on the back of my hand.
"Miss Donovan."
I turned. A man in a pristine dress uniform approached with his cap tucked under his arm. He was older, late fifties perhaps.
"Deputy Chief Graff." He extended his hand. "I wanted to offer my condolences personally."
I took his hand. He was composed, unhurried, a man who had clearly done this many times. But there was nothing perfunctory about it.
"Your brother was one of the good ones," he said. "If there's anything the department can do for you or for Rosie, I want you to reach out. Personally. I mean that."
"Thank you for coming," I said. "It would have meant a lot to Jack. This is Mark."
Mark stepped forward and offered his hand. "Thank you for being here, sir."
Graff shook his hand and nodded before he moved on to a cluster of firefighters near the side aisle. He stopped to speak with them, his hand clasping one man's shoulder, his head bent to listen.
Mark leaned close, his lips brushing my temple. "You're doing great," he murmured. "I'm right here."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Jamie!"
I turned toward the voice and found myself wrapped in a fierce hug before I could register who it belonged to. The smell of vanilla and something floral hit me first—I was sixteen years old again, crying on Megan's shoulder while the world fell apart around me.
"I'm so sorry." Megan pulled back to look at me, her hands still gripping my arms. Her eyes were red. "I'm so sorry we're seeing each other again like this."
Megan Carter. Megan Davis now. The girl next door who had been more like an older sister than a neighbor. Who had taught me how to braid my own hair and helped me survive the worst year of my life. I hadn't seen her in person since Sarah's funeral.
"Thank you for being here," I managed. "Megan, this is Mark."
Megan turned to him with the kind of assessing look only a best friend could give. Whatever she saw must have passed muster, because she pulled him into a hug too. "Thank you for taking care of her."
"I'm trying," Mark said, and the honesty in his voice made my eyes sting.
Danny stood beside her, one hand on the small of her back. He and Megan had been together since high school, and he'd become like family over the years. He was a firefighter too, stationed at a different house, but Havensworth was small and the firehouses all knew each other.
"Jack was a good man," Danny said, turning to me. "One of the best I've ever known.”
I couldn't speak. I just nodded and let Megan pull me into another hug.
"We'll catch up properly after," Megan whispered against my ear.
They moved on. Mark's arm came around my waist, pulling me against his side for a moment. I leaned into him, letting myself be held.
I found myself scanning the room. Sam had been with me every day this week, but I hadn't seen him yet today. I wondered where he was.
Then I spotted him approaching with a woman beside him. In his dress uniform, he looked like a stranger. Formal. Official. One of the men who had come to bury my brother.
The woman was pretty, with honey-blonde hair, very well put together. She moved like someone who had never doubted her place in any room she entered.
"Jamie." Sam stopped in front of me. "This is Amber. My girlfriend."
I hadn't known he had a girlfriend. The information landed somewhere in my chest and stayed there, though I couldn't have explained why it mattered.
