"I'm getting sick and tired of funerals," Sam mumbled dropping at the table in their grandmother's kitchen.

Tom had to agree. Even if Grace's memorial service didn't even compare to Kyle's in terms of emotional strain, it actually had a body and they did bury something. It had been short, to the point and eventless for once, even if he'd half expected his mother and Kay to have another go at each other over the casket. Fortunately, no such thing happened. Unfortunately, Ron had decided to disappear right after the service and was not picking up his phone.

"Do you think Ron's going to be okay?" Tom asked. He hadn't liked the air of complete misery swarming around his uncle.

"I don't know," Sam said, rubbing his eyes. "But I've decided to believe that he's a grown-ass man and should be able to take care of himself."

Tom wanted to believe that too, but ever since they'd called him three days ago and let him know, Ron had been quiet, jumpy and seemed pretty out of it. If he'd known where his uncle went, Tom would've followed him just to make sure he was alright.

But, to be fair, he could totally see Sam's point. His twin had taken care of the funeral preparations again. Their mother wouldn't touch it since she and her mother-in-law hadn't been very close, Ron was too unbalanced by the news and a wanted criminal to boot, while Bill had only come as a guest, just like he had at his own son's memorial. They could still hear him upstairs, searching through all the rooms as if looking for stuff he could easily pillage.

Tom had no idea how to feel about any of that. He was very aware that his grandmother had been executed, but the idea was so ludicrous, he couldn't come to terms with it. There was shock, there was some pain, but most of all, there was a feeling of uncertainty that crawled under his skin and wouldn't let him sleep. For a second, he wished he could go home, but their work was far from over.

After the service, Sam had suggested that the girls go home with the kids to spare them of the dreary atmosphere and potential family fights that could follow. After helping them search the house for a potential will, Jerry had gone home too for a few hours to take over handling Michael and give Sarah the chance to rest.

Only Jessie had stayed behind to help, a silent buffer between them and Bill, but now she was getting ready to leave as well. Tom's gaze flitted absently to the back door where she and Jimmy stood in threshold, talking in hushed voices.

And on top of all that, everything felt so wrong without Kyle.

"So, does Bill inherit everything now?" Tom asked, even if he didn't care much.

"Technically him and Ron. Don't think that Ron living on the run impairs his right to inheritance. But Angie would know more about that."

If only Ron were there to make sure his rights were preserved. It was maybe weird that Tom was so worried about him. If he stopped to think about it, he sort of saw a lot of himself in his uncle. Random, sassy, not the biggest fan of responsibility... That was his youth, right there. Except he'd grown up and now had a family he loved to death and a son that looked a lot like Ron.

With loud thumping steps, Bill made his way down the stairs, a box under one arm.

"Well," he said, stopping in the doorway, "I guess this is it."

"What, you're leaving already?" Sam asked, turning to him.

Bill threw a fleeting glance towards the door and his mouth twisted into a snarl. "Not just yet, it seems."

Tom followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. Yes, Jimmy and Jessie were still in the doorway and their foreheads were pressed together, but it wasn't like they wouldn't move to let him out.

"Why must all of you do that?" Bill muttered the moment Jimmy leaned over and he and Jessie kissed.

Tom turned away from them. "What is it with everyone in this family and PDA? They're technically alone out there. Let them be."

Bill huffed. "It appears like the sensible line in this family is dying out."

Tom had to agree, since Ron wasn't a judgmental asshole, so that just left Bill.

"I meant shouldn't you wait to talk to Ron?" Sam said, fortunately steering the conversation from things that made Tom want to punch Bill in the face.

"What for?" Bill asked with a shrug. "If he wanted to talk to me, he'd be here. But he was always an overdramatic brat, stomping off when anything upset him."

"His mother just died," Sam retaliated, a hint of outrage in his voice. "Your mother just died."

Bill waved them away. "My mother has been dead for years as far as I'm concerned."

"What's wrong with this family?" Jimmy asked, entering the conversation.

Bill threw him a fleeting look, but most wisely didn't make any comment about him blocking the doorway.

"Did Jessie go?" Tom asked.

"Yeah. Figured Angie and Kay might want help with the kids." Jimmy zeroed in on Bill and the box under his arm. "Are you leaving already?"

"I hear the 'good riddance' in your tone, boy."

"Don't call me boy. If we're relatives by blood, that doesn't mean you have the right to act as if we're family."

"Hey, guys, not the time," Sam said, sounding exhausted. "We're all grown-ups here, sharing a sad family event. I think we can all agree that we loved grandma, one way or another, so let's just... not. I've had enough of dramatic family funerals."

Bill seemed to soften at this, even if Jimmy's shoulders were still tense.

"If you don't want to wait for Ron, that's between the two of you." Sam sighed and glanced around the kitchen.

A flash of longing and pain painted his face and Tom's own heart squeezed as he realized Sam had probably spent a fair amount of his childhood in that house.

"Did you come here often?" he asked.

"When we were kids. We used to come here from school and wait for Mom or Dad to pick us up whenever they were done with work. I used to do my homework on this very table."

Tom smiled. The image was so sweet and sad at the same time.

"Jerry and I have so many memories in this house."

"Do you want to buy it then?" Bill asked.

The spell was instantly broken. Sam stiffened and turned to their uncle.

"Excuse me?"

Bill gave a one shoulder shrug. "I'm selling it, but if you want to have it, I don't care who I'm selling it to."

"So let me get this straight," Jimmy said, and seemed to grow in size in his anger. "You want to sell Sam the place where he grew up. A place he's likely to inherit anyway after you're dead."

Bill gave another shrug and Tom felt like dislocating his shoulders to stop him from doing it.

"Not if I sell it."

"Shouldn't you at least consider letting Ron have it?" Tom asked, trying to keep his voice as pleasant as possible. "I mean, it's his as well. And he needs a safe place to crash."

Bill huffed. "Crash indeed. Ron doesn't deserve anything until he gets his shitty life in order."

"Didn't you grow up in this house?" Tom tried again.

This time, Bill's expression softened a little, but it only lasted a second until it turned back into one of supreme indifference. "No. My parents sold the house I grew up in right after I left home. Then Freider sold that one and used part of the money to buy this house for our mother and the rest to buy the house your mother lives in. This building means nothing to me."

"It might mean something to Ron," Jimmy pointed out. "You don't have anyone you need to sustain and shit money. Why can't you just let him have this? He's your brother."

Bill gave Jimmy a once-over. "You shit money, too. You buy it, or any other house, for him."  And just like that, he twirled around and was out the back door.

"I'm going to wring his neck," Jimmy said between his teeth.

"Get in line," Sam mumbled, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Tom wanted to punch Bill's face in too, but he wanted to make things work for Ron more. "I'll try to talk some sense into him. He should at least stay and wait for Ron."

"Good luck. I can't do it," Sam said.

Probably because he had more history with Bill. Tom didn't like him either, not after he knew what an abandoning douche he'd been with Billy. But he was still aware that they used to eat food from his pantry and that he'd unknowingly paid a lawyer to get him out of jail. So there was just a tiny bit of gratitude there he could work up from.

Bill had rounded the house and was already halfway to his car when Tom caught up.

"Come on, don't do this," he said. "What harm will it do for you to stick around another few hours? Maybe Ron will show up and you can deal with this."

Bill stopped and seemed to analyze him. Tom waited too, aware that he had to be patient if he wanted a positive result. And for some reason, he really did. Maybe not just for Ron, but to feel the satisfaction that his father's brothers could act like family.

"Look." Bill sighed. "I like you. I think out of all my nephews, I like you most. Not that fussy Jerry, or that picture-perfect Sam, or that Jimmy who's just a keg about to explode. I like you and I liked Kyle. That's why I'm going to tell you this. Don't try to pretend that you understand this family."

Tom blinked. "This family as in my family?"

"No. As in my family. My parents were neglectful, so in love and entranced by each other that they always put their children second. There was a bitter rivalry between us kids because of that. I couldn't wait to get out of that house. Ron was fucking four when I left. I don't even know him and don't give two shits about him. He's not my responsibility."

For a few seconds, Tom could do nothing but stare. What the ever-loving fuck was that man talking about?

"He's still your brother. You're the one who left. How your parents acted was not his fault. You said it yourself. He was four."

Bill looked less than impressed with the obvious logic. "When my father died and my mother was committed, Freider got the house, Ron's part and Ron. I got my share and left. I was out. The fact that Freider fucked up is not on me."

Tom had no idea why the criticism directed at his father annoyed him, but it did. "It was your job as much as Dad's to look after Ron. Don't think throwing money at it solves problems."

"Let's not get into that. I want to still like you." And Bill turned his back on him and continued his way to his car.

Tom stood rooted in the middle of the path leading to the front door, wondering if he should follow and continue this. Bill had guessed where this was going. Tom was one second away from bringing up how he neglected Billy in a similar manner from Ron. How he threw money at him even if that wasn't what Billy wanted or needed. Hell, a part of Tom even wanted to shout that Billy was alive, see if that at least would get a rise out of that asshole.

Instead, he said nothing, frozen by the disfunction he hadn't seen, hadn't heard about. Did Sam know? Should he bring Bill inside and force him to repeat all that?

But he didn't. He just stood there, watching his uncle get behind the wheel, put the box on the passenger's seat and start the car.

In a flash of blazing flames and thundering boom, the car exploded. The heatwave crashed into Tom with a force that propelled him backwards. His back hit something hard and the wind was knocked out of him. A hot piece of metal flew towards him and rammed into his chest with crippling force. Something seemed to crack inside him as the sharp pain he came to associate with broken ribs stole the last bit of breath he had. His eyes watered from the heat and once his chest managed to rise for much needed breath, smoke entered his lungs instead of air.

For a moment, panic overwhelmed him, but as the adrenaline kicked it, so did his synapses. It hurt like a bitch, but he wasn't dead, just a little hurt. He'd ended up with his back against the wall, the door of Bill's car in his lap. Even if his vision was blurred and his hearing fuzzy, one thing was crystal clear.

Bill Grant was not going to sell the house.

🧭

Being away from it all brought on the dreams. And dreams were the worst.

"You're kidding. What do you mean you can't swim?"

She shifted her weight, her expression bouncing between bashful and defiant. He liked that about her, the fire simmering beneath the surface, like a volcano ready to explode.

"So what?" She narrowed her sky-blue eyes. "Or are you offering to teach me?"

He could never back down from a challenge, so minutes later, they were by the school pool. She wore a white bikini very unfit for a lesson and he found himself watching her differently. She looked amazing, unlike the annoying little princess draped in overalls he'd come to know.

"What?" she asked.

The dream didn't care what. It never cared about sense or conversation as it morphed memories and drew the essence out of them.

Their words didn't matter or the way in which she finally accepted to get into the water. All that mattered was her fear, her inability to fight it and the fact that she ended up wrapping herself around him to avoid drowning.

It broke him. It broke her as well.

The heat of her body took him off guard. The way in which her fingers dug into his skin, the way her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Nothing's gonna happen. The pool is shallow."

Her terrified eyes focused on him. "It's not. It reaches your neck. I'm much short than that."

"I'm standing."

Not for long.

"This was such a bad idea," she whimpered. "Help me get out."

"Why not learn as long as you're in?"

"Learn what?"

Her panic was endearing. It made her seem less cold, more real.

"So you do have things you're afraid of," he said with a smile.

"Don't you?"

He did, many. And she knew at least some of them. The realization had her grip loosening and she stared him straight in the eyes.

It was odd. It felt different. She was no longer the ice queen. She was a blazing inferno.

"Millie," he whispered.

It was all it took. Her lips landed over his and he fell into it like a fool. His hands grasped her, enjoying the feel of her skin. It didn't matter that they barely knew each other, that they didn't even like each other, that he hadn't even considered her attractive until he saw her almost naked.

But she was. And her kisses were like fire.

The dream didn't care what happened next. It fast-forwarded to other things, other times. The only constant was the feel of her skin, the passion of her kisses. Of his. He never let her lead. He could outdo her in everything, passion included.

"You're such an overachiever," she said with a laugh.

"And isn't that what you love about me?" he teased.

"I do love you. And I always will."

Lies. Nothing but lies. Just like her name.

Millie.

"Hey, get up."

Darkness was better than the present or the memories. Why was sleep so hard?

"I'm almost at full strength, so trust me, you wouldn't want me to slap you awake."

Pain. The snark. Shit.

His eyes shot open and focused on Kyle. He crouched in front of him a wry smile on his face which made it clear what had happened.

"Was I mumbling again?" he asked, his voice croaky.

"Not exactly. Outright speaking this time."

Damn it. Damn his subconscious and the grogginess coming with being out without actually resting. "Sorry to be boring."

Kyle straightened, his right eyebrow slightly raised. "You're definitely not boring. She really did a number on you, didn't she?"

Sleep still clung to him as did the sound of her voice. "Who are you talking about?"

"Millie."

The dreaded name. The lie. "Just ignore me."

"I try to. But it's not exactly fair since you grill me about everything I mutter." Kyle handed him a bottle of water. "Look, I know you hate it, but it seems to be getting worse. Maybe you should talk about it. I've learned it helps."

Yes, of course. He should totally share. "What the hell do you even care?"

"Because you wake me up and because you're always cranky afterwards. You're annoying enough without being cranky."

"Oh, fuck off, brat."

Kyle let out a hallow laugh and sat cross-legged in front of him. "Three days ago I would've let this slide. After all, it's none of my business. But... Well, we're moving, getting closer. I'll need you sane."

He had a point. The brat had a damn point. But he wasn't going to admit it. So he crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

Kyle waited for a few moments then let out a heavy sigh. "Here's what we're going to do. You don't have to be specific. No names, places or anything. Just what bugs you. And in turn, I'll tell you something about myself that you don't know."

He gritted his teeth. Damn, he was actually a little curious. "Why do you assume there are things about you I don't know?"

"Um, all the questions you've been asking lately? Plus, you only know facts."

And facts were the least interesting. But he wasn't going to admit that he was intrigued. "What makes you think I want to know anything else?"

Kyle drummed his fingers on his chin. "I'll go first then. My father cut me out of his will."

The news had his jaw dropping. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Kyle grimaced. "I acted like I didn't care. Which was true up to a point. I didn't need his stuff. But the gesture itself..."

This was indeed fascinating. "Did it crush you?"

He raised his eyes, a frightening determination in them. "No. It just made me realize I never really had a father."

The words were heavy with meaning and made him almost squirm for some reason. He'd sort of known this, but hearing it out of Kyle's mouth was odd. Maybe because it was something so deep and personal and he was choosing to share it with him. There was no constraint. No explanation as to why he was doing it. And he'd been right. It was interesting.

Kyle leaned back on his hands, leaving himself open. "Your turn."

He narrowed his eyes. He'd never taken this one to be proficient at mind games. He was, after all, maybe the most straightforward of the lot. And yet his openness, his confusion was making him feel as if he should reply in kind.

No way. No way am I sharing this.

But then again, he didn't have to share the specifics. And he knew Kyle was right. That talking about it would lessen the hold the nightmares had on him. He'd done it before. Just not to him out of all people.

"Let me help," Kyle said. "When did you meet Millie?"

The sound of her name made him flinch. He hadn't said the name out loud in years. This had to stop. It was stupid and not what he needed right now. He needed a clear head.

"In high school," he finally said.

Kyle hummed. "Senior year?"

"Yeah. She was a junior." Irrelevant information.

"Was it a good time?"

He hesitated as he tried to identify the purpose of the question, the risk of the answer.

"Look," Kyle said, his tone a little impatient. "I already know you were in love with her. And given that you still dream about it, it's obvious that it meant a lot."

"Oh, shut your mouth."

"I'm not an idiot. And I know all about things meaning a lot. I also know a lot about pretending they don't."

"Is this about your father again?"

"My father, my mother. The rest of my relatives who stood by and did nothing."

He tilted his head. "Do tell."

"Do you know?"

"Know what?"

"Why my parents left me with Max when I was two?"

It was one of the few things he didn't know. "Do you?"

"No." He heaved a sigh and got back to his feet. "I never asked." He leaned over and picked up his backpack. "If you don't want to talk, fine. Continue dreaming. Maybe you actually enjoy it."

He stood, too, grabbing his own luggage. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Kyle shrugged. "Nothing. Just that if I'd be dreaming of Kay every night, I wouldn't want it to ever stop."

His words turned his blood to ice. "It's not the same. You got your happy ending."

"I'm lost in the jungle with you. Everyone thinks I'm dead. How happy is my ending?"

He huffed. "Please. You have a family. Kids."

"Why don't you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably because I was too busy getting stabbed in the back by the people I trusted."

"Is that what Freider did?"

What the hell? It was so obvious, he didn't even see the point in denying. "In maybe the worst way possible. And no, before you ask, it doesn't even concern Millie. Don't make connections that are not there."

Kyle froze, obviously making the connections. He should've kept his mouth shut, but the frustration wouldn't let him. Neither would the exhaustion that made everything blurry and paralyzed his limbs.

"I'm not going to ask," Kyle said to his surprise. "We don't have to talk about Freider. Just Millie. Because it's not his name you're mumbling."

Yet. And the thought that he would start soon scared the shit out of him.

🧭🧭🧭

And we have a chapter. Yay us. And more stuff is happening. Interesting stuff.

I'm very curious regarding your thoughts seeing that a lot of things were revealed here. A bit of much needed Grant family history, some old buried memories, an explosion and a POV you were probably long awaiting.

So yes, Bill might be dead and almost took Tom with him. And Snitch is definitely not doing well. Then comes Kyle who applies the same strategy he did with Kay on him. 

Don't forget to vote and comment for support. Here's to hoping I actually get more writing done.