Sleeping was ultimately the hardest task of the night. I lay there, unable to fight the gnawing suspicion that something bad was on the horizon. Situations like this wouldn't end well unless Ambrose opened up about what bothered him. He's hurting, he's lost, he's shouting for any form of attention anyone could see, but he wasn't ready to let us in.

It's unsettling seeing someone so full of spirit and energy suddenly become this hollow shell.

I had to get him to open up as soon as possible before the crushing worry I'm feeling started flashing worst-case scenarios in my head. Giving up, I wandered out of my master's room and into the living room to check up on Ambrose. His body slouched over on the couch, his arms reaching to the floor while his face was squished into the harsh surface of an inexpensive sofa.

My finger lightly traced the apples of his cheeks, causing him to stir and shift forward into my touch. Like kittens do. I wished I knew how to get him out of this funk, to be the happy-go-lucky guy from a week ago. The truth was, I don't even know if he could return to that person, but I knew holding everything inside would only lead to destruction.

Lightly tapped footsteps caught my attention as I saw Declan scratching the back of his head with a yawn. We shared an innocent smile before his eyes draped over Ambrose's sleeping frame.

"Has he woken up yet?" Declan whispered.

I shook my head. "No, I just couldn't sleep, so I came out here to check on him."

He slowly nodded. "Do you mind if I make some tea? I kind of have a headache from Lana crying. She's like a little baby sometimes."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll help since I think tea would do me some good," I responded, standing up from my spot beside the couch.

Surprisingly, Declan found the teapot in seconds while it took Ambrose twenty minutes to find it when he wanted to make hot chocolate weeks ago when I ran into Colton. He placed it onto the electric stove while I gathered two mugs from the cabinet and dropped tea bags into them. Seconds later, the annoying chirping noise from the teapot permeated the room and Declan shut the stove off.

We sat on the island on opposite sides as I mixed in honey and sugar for a sweeter taste while Declan just drank his. The only sound coming from us was our spoons clinking against the glass mug. It's pretty awkward, to say the least. Lana was naturally a chatterbox, but Declan was the contrary.

"It's nice to see you guys together," Declan said, staring off into the distance.

My eyebrows knotted. "What do you mean?"

He took a hefty sip of his tea. "I'm not as dumb as the others. I knew something was up from the moment I met you. I know you guys started dating to make Lana jealous." I nearly spat out my tea. "It didn't take too long to pick up on clues and see his intention behinds them."

I blinked and rubbed my eyes to make sure this wasn't a dream. "Were we that obvious?"

Declan shrugged. "At the Halloween party, yes, but when I saw you guys at the beach... I questioned if I read the situation right. But as a guy who fell in love with a girl who moved in with my family and annoyed the living hell out of me in the beginning... I realized the same thing could've happened to you guys."

I took another sip and hummed with delight. "Yeah... Life surely had an odd way of bringing us together. Do you feel any resentment towards Ambrose for pinning after Lana for all these years?"

He smiled back, just a little. "No, he made himself pretty clear on our wedding day, but I did hope one day he would let go of her because I never plan to."

A laugh bubbled out of me. "It's funny to hear how whipped the amazing Declan Novak is. Ambrose always told stories that wouldn't put you in the brightest light."

"I would be surprised if he didn't." He pressed his lips together. "I know I can be an insensitive asshole at times and unpleasant to be around, and sometimes I might not treat Lana the way she should be, but I'm trying my best to work on it. Because I'll be damned if I fucking lose her over an idiotic mistake."

I snorted, trying to hide the insecurities I was feeling. "All the stories I've heard about her and little conversations we had proved she's one of the kind."

From the corner of my eye, I caught a ghost of a grin looming on his lips. "Yeah... she's an oddball, but she's my oddball... My missing half."

Declan always gave the aura of a narcissistic, arrogant jerk, but hearing him speak freely about how he viewed his wife was adorable. So fucking adorable and cheesy and I loved it. I wondered what Ambrose would say about me if people asked. What stories he would repeat endlessly until people begged him to stop.

If he even felt that way about me...

"What are you thinking about?" Declan asked, his dark brown eyes piercing through mine in an exposed way.

I shrugged. "Ambrose... and Lana."

"Mmm," he hummed, nodding his head.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm not going to force you to talk about something you aren't ready for," Declan replied, pouring another batch of steaming hot water in his mug.

I sighed. "I-I don't even know where to start. I love Ambrose like a lot like so much I didn't even think it's possible or healthy to feel this way, but I can't help but wonder if our relationship was hopeless from the start. Our relationship was based on a lie, on two influences, but while my reasoning never brought anything to question, his did."

"You're talking about how he wanted to date you to make Lana jealous?" He frowned.

"Yes. I know they have a special type of bond that I wouldn't dream of taking away from him, especially with the limited number of people he kept close to him, but what of his bond with Lana is more special than mine? I'm terrified of losing him, and sometimes I lay down at night wishing our relationship never began so I wouldn't be in this predicament," I said, feeling the weight of chest lifting for finally ranting about this to someone other than myself.

"Alright, I'm not going to lie. I'm a pretty shitty advice giver, but I'll try my best. Believe it or not, I think Ambrose loves you too, but he's a fucking idiot s-."

"Hey! Don't call him that," I shouted a bit too loudly, feeling a coat of heat creeping up my cheeks.

Declan froze for a second. "Sorry. Anyhow, what I was saying before being rudely interrupted was, I think you should share your concerns with him. It's hard. I know even I still struggle to share my thoughts with Lana and we're married, but it might cure your uneasiness. I would like to add he hasn't been clingy towards Lana anymore. He used to call or message her like five to ten times a day, but now she's lucky to get a text every few days."

My eyebrows shot up. "You think it's because of me?"

"Most definitely."

Declan's advice made sense. In a relationship, the most important key factor was communication and while Ambrose and I didn't exactly struggle in that department, it didn't mean I didn't keep things hidden. It's just I'm petrified if I bring it up, Ambrose would question and realize the tremendous mistake he made in dating me. Anyhow, this wasn't time to focus on these insignificant problems.

Not until Ambrose was better.

"Declan?" A light, muffled voice came from the hallway.

Her footsteps could be heard from miles away from how loudly her slippers squeaked with every step. Lana's hair was tousled into a messy nest, her cheeks stained with slight marks of mascara.

Declan sprung up from his chair with a concern glimmer in his eyes. "Yes, babe?"

Lana moaned as she stretched her arms over her head. "I was just wondering where you went. I hate waking up to you, not next to me." She clung to his arm, resting her head on his chest.

He pressed a small peck on the top of her head. "Sorry, babe, I didn't expect to take this long. Davina and I were just talking."

Lana randomly waved at the wall since her eyes were sealed shut. "Oh, hey Davina! Sorry if I'm interrupting I can just wait in the ro-."

I laughed. "Don't be silly. Cuddle Declan until he suffocates."

She giggled. "I plan to. Goodnight. Talk to you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

Ambrose's face didn't look half as bad once Lana disinfected his wounds, and Declan stitched the top of his cheek. It's right under the scar his father gave him when he was younger. Even with his best friends around, Ambrose hadn't uttered a word besides asking for breakfast before locking himself in his bedroom.

Eventually, time dawdled on and it was about an hour until his father's funeral. All of us dress in black attire and relaxed in the living room together watching flicks. But the worrisome knots in my belly didn't let me enjoy a single second of it. Giving in to my guiltiness, I knocked on the door and waited for any noise.

"Yeah?" He shouted.

"It's Davina. Can I come in?" I asked, leaning my head on the door.

Ambrose opened the door so abruptly, I almost lost my balance. He looked okay. Curly dark hair looked the same. Brown eyes were alert. Sexy muscles ripping from his tight tuxedo and beneath his sweats. When our gaze locked, there wasn't a hint of emotion behind them.

"Hey," I say softly, kissing him. "Are you okay? What have you been doing?"

His lips brushed mine, but the kiss lacked his usual warmth. "Just been working on the eulogy. Is everyone ready?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We're just waiting for you."

Ambrose's face grew tenser as he struggled to wrap his tie around his neck. "I'll be ready in twenty seconds... If I could get this stupid freaking tie to work."

"I got it," I replied, replacing his hands with mine.

"Thanks, D." Ambrose exhaled. "Do you think after the funeral we could go out to a bar to celebrate or whatever you're supposed to do after a funeral?"

I bit my lip. "I'm not sure if you should be drinking right now."

His eyebrow rose. "Are you really giving me drinking advice?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm just looking out for you. I don't think mixing alcohol with your suppressed emotions is a good idea, especially with assault charges lingering over your head."

Ambrose scoffed. "You aren't my mother, so stop treating me like a kid and act like my girlfriend."

"Could you stop projecting your anger towards me? As a girlfriend, I should be concerned when my boyfriend starts acting out of character." I grabbed his chin, trying to get him to face me. "You hate drinking, remember? So why is that the first thing you run towards?"

"Because it's a cycle and I'm the next one on the list," Ambrose blurted, forcing his face out of my grip.

"You don't have to be..." I whispered.

My heart sliced into tiny pieces. Ambrose dropped onto the unmade bed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Can we please just stop fighting? I can't take another thing right now, D. I'm drowning in problems."

"Then why can't you tell me about them?"

He sprung up, his dark eyes piercing through mine. "Can you just drop it? Everything will be fine after this stupid funeral is over. Okay? So please let it go for me?"

I sighed. "Fine..."

Ambrose's uncle must have worked tremendously to put this funeral together. Honestly, it annoyed the hell out of me. We had to watch the burial of a man who didn't deserve it. Hopefully, he was boiling in hell for everything he put Ambrose through. In life and after. The benches were filled to the brim and the only person I recognized was his mother.

I gazed at Ambrose, who's still surveying the guests. My eyes softened as I watched his Adam's apple bob frequently as if he was loaded with jitter. The pastor took his place in front of the sandy oak casket and began performing a sermon. It went on for longer than I imagined, but maybe it's because in tv shows they only showed snippets of real-life funerals.

"Amen." The pastor closed his eyes. "At this time, I call on Ambrose, James's son, who wants to start us off by saying a few words." Ambrose's body tensed beside me when the pastor called his name. I placed my hand on top of his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"You ready?" I whispered.

Ambrose nodded, standing up from the bench, and began walking up the carpet steps. A gasp escaped from my throat when Ambrose tripped over his step before grabbing the podium to stay upright.

Sweat drenched his forehead as he moved the mic closer to his lips. "Hi, I-I'm James's son. Ambrose. Um." His eyes scanned around the room and I noticed on the way they widened he forgot his speech. "He is....Um. He was...Um." He glanced back at the pastor, his hand covering the mic. "Can I go later?"

The pastor nodded, sending a reassuring smile towards Ambrose. "At this time, I call on Albert, one of James's co-workers, who would love to start us off by saying a few words."

Ambrose's face was pale white, looking as if he was seconds from puking. I knew this eulogy was a bad idea. But I couldn't be like that right now. He's on the verge of losing it and I wanted to be the one to hold him together.

A wrinkly old, short man walked onto the stand. "I knew James Bright for almost twenty years. He was a good friend, top-notch carpenter, an absolutely devastating chess player, and a dedicated father. But if you were to ask him this last role was the most important."

Ambrose scoffed under his breath. "Is this a fucking joke?"

The other guest shot him a concerned and confused look.

"James told me time and time again how his son Ambrose was the greatest gift he'd ever received. A gift he cherished, a gift he never wanted to relinquish."

Ambrose burst into a hysterical fit of laughter causing even more glances in our direction. But I didn't give two shits, this whole funeral had to be some kind of sick joke played on Ambrose. Or had his father played the lovely father role perfectly in front of others?

"Maybe Amby should get a breath of fresh air," A younger man, resembling a few features his father had said, turning his head around to meet Ambrose. "Your mother doesn't appreciate the disrespect by the way."

Ambrose scoffed. "Disrespect? So laughing at his funeral is disrespect, but watching him hurt me all these years wasn't?"

His mother swung around, her eyes bloodshot red from the tears narrowed in murderous slits. "Amby. Please don't. We're paying respects to your father."

With aggravation written on his face, Ambrose thrust the pamphlet towards the grieving pair. "Fuck him." His mother audible gasped, covering her mouth dramatically as if was such a surprise for Ambrose to think this about him. Ambrose hadn't waited for another word and dashed out the funeral.

I would've faked a sympathy expression, but his parents were assholes so I didn't bother and went ahead after Ambrose. On the way out, I signaled for Lana, Declan, Meadow, and Catalina to remain inside until Ambrose calmed down.

As the sun dawned on my skin, I watched as Ambrose held onto the tree bark, barks of laughter exited his lips. "Can you believe that idiot? James Bright was a dedicated father." He mocked the speaker's tone. "Don't even get me started on Uncle Craig taking my mother's side."

"Are you okay?" I searched his face.

His bitter laugh echoed between us. "Jesus, how many times are you going to ask me that?"

I took his hand. God, it felt like ice. "Until you tell me the truth."

He sighed, throwing his head back with an irritated groan. "Oh my god."

"Sit down." I have to forcibly tug his powerful body beside me on the bench, but even after he submitted, he stared straight ahead instead of meeting my eyes. "What's happening? I'm begging you to let me in."

"Jesus. What does it matter?"

"Because it matters, Ambrose." I started to feel aggravated. "Clearly, it's tearing you apart and I think it's time to talk about it."

Another bitter laugh escaped from his throat. "Talking about it won't achieve a damn thing. But fine. You want to know what I'm feeling? Angry because everyone in there is treating him as some kind of saint. But for the most part, I'm so fucking happy. He beat me. Not gonna do that again now is he?"

I flinched at the sharpness of his tone. "Ambrose..."

"How else do you want me to phrase it, D? I'm happy. I'm really happy because he's dead! He's gone for good!"

My spine stiffened. "You don't have to be sarcastic. I get it."

"No, you don't. You don't get it. You think I'm going crazy, I see it in your eyes. Why is it so hard to believe that I'm okay? That I'm happy? Why do I have to feel sad about a man who only left me with scars?" His hoarse outburst cracked my heart in two.

"You guys had a complicated relationship."

His silence irked the living fuck out of me.

"I hate him. I'm so glad I never have to see him again," Ambrose replied, his voice low and sullen.

Before I knew it, Ambrose leaped onto his feet and hurried towards the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" I shouted, tired and heartbroken.

"Away from you! Away from everyone! I just want to be alone," he yelled, picking up the pace when he glanced back to see me following. It wasn't until a rough, heavy hand gripped my shoulders, letting Ambrose escape.

"Just let him cool down... It's not going to end well if you follow him now," Declan stated, as a tender hand rubbed my lower back.

It was Lana.

And that was the thing that caused the faucets of water to drip from my eyes.

Poor Ambrose 🥺🥺. Davina is doing her best too but it seems to be not working 🥺... Do you guys think Ambrose can get out of this funk?

Love you guys and can't wait to read your comments!!!