36| Goodbye

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The funeral is set for Friday. I don't speak to anyone in the days leading up to it, nor train or go to school. I hole up in my bedroom, curled on my side in a fetal position, and cry until it hurts.

It was a pulmonary Embolism. Or at least, that's what I think Hayden said. Coach was being treated for blood clots, but one found its way into his lung. By the time Hayden found him, it was already too late.

The night I got the call, I'd buried my face in Nico's chest and cried until his skin was soaked. He'd cradled me to his chest, holding me up as my legs gave out, then walked us back until we fell against the bed, where he held me all night while I cried.

I was gone by the time he woke up. Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn't bear looking him in the eye after that, so I grabbed my things, pulled on my clothes, and drove home through a hazy blur of tears, only to face my furious mother, who'd been unable to reach me all night. It didn't matter. She took one look at me and hugged me. It's strange how tragedy does that. One minute, you're fighting; the next, you're holding them so hard that you can't comprehend letting go.

When Friday comes, Dad and Cody spend the morning putting their suits on. I slowly leave my bed and walk over to my closet, taking out the black dress Mom picked out the night before. It's simple, elegant, and appropriate for a funeral. I put it on and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy from crying, and my hair is a mess. I grab a brush and try to smooth it out as much as possible.

Daisy comes over just before we leave. She hugs me for a long time, like pieces of me are broken, and she's trying to keep them together. I hug her back, knowing that if I speak right now, I'll cry, and I don't want to cry.

It hurts.

She pulls away, wiping a fallen tear from her cheek before squeezing my hand. I nod as if to thank her, and together, we cross the drive to the car.

The drive to the church is silent. My parents had never met Coach, but they insisted on attending his funeral when they'd heard about his passing. If they had met him, they'd have loved him too.

I keep my eyes fixed on the window. We pass a row of huge mansions with pristine lawns and state-of-the-art fountains. This part of LA has always felt huge, but it's not. It's a tiny slice of a life most people never experience, and it took seeing Coach try his hardest every day to see it.

My eyes are still on the window when Cody reaches out and takes my hand. He squeezes it tight, his little fingers warm and comforting in the silence. I smile slightly, squeezing him back, preparing myself to get through this.

It's not long before Dad kills the engine. The church's parking lot is packed, and I recognize some kids from the gym at the entrance with their parents. Wiley hovers behind a tall, lithe woman, her dark hair slicked back into a bun. Auden stands a few feet away, shifting from one foot to the other, while a man who looks just like him talks to the pastor.

Inside the church, people begin to fill up the foyer. It has light wooden floors and stained-glass windows that let the sunlight trickle in. For a second, the sunlight hitting Jesus makes it look like he's glowing.

My legs tremble, and I follow the stream of funeral-goers into the sanctuary, where I spot Hayden beside the casket. He's wearing a suit, the first I've ever seen him in, and he's reading from a piece of paper.

He looks strong on the surface, but his face has an unusual hollowness, and his eyes are shadowed with circles. Given how close his dad was to Coach, he knew Coach better than anyone. Today must be killing him.

Maddie stands beside him, wearing a black lace dress. Her hand is in his, intertwined so tightly that it's hard to tell where his fingers end and hers begin.

I briefly think of Nico and feel guilty. The others still see him as some traitor and would hardly appreciate his presence, but if he could be here, he would. The reason he joined in the first place is because of how much he respected Coach. It hurts me that he couldn't say goodbye.

The strong scent of lilies fills my nose. A woman I don't recognize walks past with the flowers and catches me looking before smiling. "They were his favorite," she says and carries on.

I take in the pews filled with people, some crying and others sitting silently. The casket is at the front of the church, surrounded by bouquets. The woman takes her bouquet of lilies and places them gently on the top.

The pastor tells us the service is starting, and we all take our seats. Mom sits on one side of me and Daisy on the other, each taking my hand in theirs. Cody sits between Daisy and Dad, and when Daisy slips her hand into his, he squeezes it tight.  

I don't remember much about the service. I just know there's a lot of crying and laughing. Hayden gets up to speak at one point, and when he becomes too emotional to continue, Maddie grabs his hand and takes over.

My chest seems to cave as I focus on my feet. I told myself I wouldn't cry today, but every single word is like a knife to the chest, twisting that little bit deeper. Coach should still be here. Out of everyone, he deserves to be, but he isn't, and it's not fair.

As the service ends, the pallbearers come forward to carry the casket out of the church. We make our way to the cemetery, where the final prayers are said, and the casket is lowered into the ground.

Part of me thinks it should be raining. It never rains, but we're broken and crying, so the heavens should be crying, but they're not. Instead, the sun peeks through a cover of clouds, winking at me.

After the funeral, the wake is held in the gym, so that's where everybody goes, from Hayden and Maddie to the guy who delivers the mail. A hundred bodies gather outside until the street is crowded with people.

I head upstairs with the others, hiding near the heavy bags as I take in these unfamiliar faces. I'd known Coach had touched the hearts of many people, but I could never have envisioned this. It offers me the tiniest sliver of peace.

"Hey," says a familiar voice, and I turn around.

Maddie stands before me, holding a cup of something pink. She smiles and steps forward, using her free hand to squeeze my arm tenderly. "Are you okay?" She shakes her head before I can answer, looking embarrassed. "That's a stupid question, I know."

I try to smile. "It's fine."

She tries to smile too. "He was proud of you, you know. He couldn't believe how much progress you'd made in the ring. I know he wasn't always good at showing it, but he believed in you, Cassie. He believed out of everyone, you had the power to save the gym."

The flame in my stomach ignites. She means well, but hearing her say this only angers me, and not because I'm angry at her but at the world. I'm so fucking angry, I can't breathe.

"I don't understand," I say, my voice cracking. "I don't understand how he was fine one moment and gone the next." I have to stop talking because if I don't, I will cry.

"I know," she says softly, brushing my arm, "and I know it's not much, but when you're ready, Hayden agreed to take over your training before the fight."

It feels like a punch to the gut. "It doesn't matter anymore. I quit."

Her eyes soften. "Cassie–"

"I mean it," I say. "I'm done. What's the point, Maddie? Coach was this gym. Without him, we have nothing."

Her face crumples, and I can tell she's trying her hardest to be strong, but her voice quivers anyway. "That's not true. It's okay to be angry, Cassie – that doesn't mean you give up."

"Is it?" I say, "because I'm not just angry. I'm furious. And when I think about him spending those last minutes alone–" My voice cracks, and I let out the tiniest sob as she hugs me, but I can't take it anymore. I can't take any of it. "I need some air," I say and head outside.

Across the street, a hooded Nico leans against Box Inc. He straightens at the sight of me and does a brief sweep, but he needn't have bothered. We're the only ones out here. He walks over, slow and deliberate, as if giving me a chance to bolt, but I'm too exhausted to go anywhere, so I stay where I am.

"Hey," he says and pauses. Just like Maddie, he'd wanted to ask if I'm okay, but he knows I can't answer that.

"Hey," I say back.

A minute passes, and his eyes soften. "I was going to call you," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, "and then I realized I didn't have your number. Didn't even know where you lived." His eyes flash with guilt as if it's his fault he hasn't been around, but it's mine. The truth is, I was avoiding him – I think he knows it too.

"Come here," he mutters and pulls me closer, bundling me to his chest.

I sink into him instantly, and his body feels so solid that my legs give in, letting him hold my weight. With the shakiest breath, I press against his neck, breathing in his fresh cotton scent. We stay like this for a very long time.

A/N

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