I stepped further into the seating room, my eyes sweeping over the familiar faces—Kirby, Danielle, Joe, Kendall, Paul, and, of course, Killian. They were all seated in a loose circle, the air thick with an awkward stillness that only grief could bring. Some had their hands folded in their laps, others stared blankly at the coffee table as though it might offer a distraction from the inevitable.
Matthew Reeds, mom’s long-time lawyer, stood as I approached. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, his suit crisp despite the summer heat. He had that same kind of warm, steady presence I remembered from when Mom used to drag me along to his office as a kid.
“Hello, Matthew,” I greeted, my voice softer than I intended.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said gently, his eyes softening in a way that made me
