Page 26 of Never Forget
"I'm so sorry for your loss," Amber said. Her voice was appropriate, her expression appropriately sad. She reached out and touched my arm. "Sam has told me so much about your brother."
"Thank you." I shook her hand. "This is my boyfriend, Mark."
Amber shook his hand, offering the same polished condolences. They exchanged a few words I didn't catch, and then Sam's eyes met mine.
"I'll find you after," he said.
I nodded. They moved to find their seats.
Mark's hand found mine again. "You ready?"
I wasn't. I didn't think I ever would be.
"Yes," I said, and let him guide me toward the front pew.
The service passed in fragments.
Captain Sutton spoke first. He talked about Jack's dedication, his courage, the way he treated every call like it mattered because to him it always did. He talked about the kind of firefighter Jack was, the kind of man. His voice was steady until the end, when he had to stop and collect himself before he could finish.
Then Sam stood up.
He walked to the podium like a man approaching his own execution, his jaw tight and his hands gripping the edges of the wood. He looked out at the crowd for a long moment before he spoke.
"Jack Donovan was my best friend."
His voice cracked on the last word. He paused. Breathed. Started again.
"I've been trying to figure out what to say about him, and the truth is, I don't think words are enough. Jack wasn't the kind of man you could capture in a speech. He was the kind of man you just had to know."
He talked about growing up together. About the trouble they'd gotten into as kids and the men they'd become. About joining the department and finding a brotherhood that felt like coming home. About the way Jack loved Rosie, loved his family, loved this job that had ultimately cost him everything.
"He was the best of us," Sam said at the end. "He always was. And I don't know how to do this without him."
He stepped down from the podium with tears on his face, and I watched him return to his seat beside Amber without looking at me.
Then it was my turn.
I don't remember walking to the front of the church. I don't remember what I said exactly, only the shape of it. I talked about the boy who became my father when I was fifteen. The man who made sure I ate breakfast before school and helped me with homework I was too proud to admit I didn't understand. The brother who told me to go to New York and chase my dreams, who called every Sunday without fail, who never once made me feel guilty for leaving.
I talked about the firefighter who ran toward danger to save people’s lives. The father who adored his daughter. The man who always put everyone else first.
By the time I finished, I couldn't see the congregation through my tears.
Mark was waiting at the end of the pew. He pulled me close and held on while I fell apart.
The cemetery was cold.
January in Havensworth rarely dropped below freezing, but today the wind cut straight through my coat and left me shivering as we gathered around the grave. Rosie was with Loretta at the house. We decided she was too young for this. I didn't want her to see the hole in the ground where we were putting her father.
Mark stood on one side of me, Sam on the other. I leaned into Mark, letting his arm anchor me.
The minister said words I didn't hear. Then they began to lower the casket.
Inch by inch, it disappeared into the earth. I watched it go and felt the finality of it like a door slamming shut. I reached for Sam's hand. His fingers closed around mine and held on tight.
This was it. This was goodbye.
People began drifting toward their cars. The reception was at the church hall, but no one seemed in a hurry to get there. They lingered in small groups, talking quietly, delaying the moment when they would have to return to normal life and pretend the world hadn't just lost one of its best.
