I laid my head against my grandpa’s chest, hugged him and cried.
“Dammit, Jilly,” my brother Jace said from the foot of the bed. I didn’t dare look at him. Or any of my brothers. We all knew how the other felt, and our grief hung in the air like a thick fog. I wanted it to go away. I wanted Jilly back. It was too fast, too soon. I wasn’t ready for this.
The staff allowed us time to mourn and say our goodbyes, and then it was time to leave. We all dragged out into the waiting area, and the moment we stepped into the room, Brax jumped to his feet. His gaze drifted from my mom, to my brothers, to me, and without words, he knew. I could see it in his eyes, and how those strange blue orbs softened. I walked to him, and without even thinking, allowed his embrace.
“I’m sorry, Gracie,” he said against my temple. “Damned sorry.”
My tears fell, and I shook, and Brax’s arms tightened around me. “I am, too,” I said against his chest. He held me that way for a while.
We followed my family home to the ranch, and Brax held my hand in silence the whole way there. The sun was just starting to rise, edging the tree line as we pulled onto our drive. When Brax parked, he left the engine running and stepped out. My mom and brothers walked over to meet us.
“Gracie, I’ll get a room in town,” Brax told me. It was cold out, and his breath puffed white in front of him.
“Nonsense,” Mom said. “You’ll stay here and I won’t hear any more about it.”
Brax looked at me, and I gave him a nod. I was positive he wasn’t sure what to do, but there’d be no arguing with my mom. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“Sadie.” My mom gave him a wan smile.
Brax smiled back. “Sadie.”
Mom, my brothers by her side, left us at the truck and wandered into the house. Brax grasped my hand. “Are you okay with this? Swear to God, I’ll go if you’re not. It wasn’t my intention to make you uneasy.” His nose was turning red from the cold.
“I know that. I’m fine with it,” I answered. My voice sounded hollow. Shallow. Soft. “Thanks. For being here.”
His wraithlike eyes regarded me. “Thanks for letting me.”
We stared in silence for a moment, then Brax reached behind me and grabbed our bags from the bed of the truck. “Ready?”
Suddenly, realization crashed over me, leaving me short of breath, panicky, and I leaned against the truck. “Not really,” I said quietly. A subtle shaking began in my body, and it rapidly grew. Tears welled up, spilled out and fell in frozen little trails down my cheek. Inside the house, everywhere, was my grandfather. How could he be gone? Oh, Jilly …
Brax dropped the bags and pulled me against him. I went easily—a little too easy, maybe—and his warmth, the strength in his arms embraced and comforted me. I cried into Brax’s shoulder, and he stroked my hair and held me close as grief flooded me.
The next two days blurred by. Two older men, a little younger than Jilly, had shown up at the ranch the day after Jilly’s death. Retired Rangers, they’d served with my grandfather and assured Mom his funeral expenses were taken care of. I could literally see the relief wash over her. Meanwhile, chores still needed to be done and horses needed to be cared for, and we all pitched in to get it done. Brax was right there, mucking out stalls and feeding animals, and his rough Boston mannerisms seemed to take a step back as he conformed to life at a ranch. The second he’d finish one chore, he’d ask for another. Yet as busy as we all kept, the pain stayed. Laid heavy on my shoulders—on all of us. Jilly’s presence was everywhere … and nowhere. It was so weird, him being gone. Sometimes I’d look up a little too fast and I’d think he was there, leaning against the horse pen, his booted foot propped on the bottom rail, his hat pushed back and a stream of dirty swear words flooding from his mouth.
Neighbors brought more food than fifty people could eat in a month. Every few hours, another car or truck would slowly make their way up the drive, dropping off casseroles and cakes and homemade bread.
“Is there a food committee or something?” Brax asked.
I looked at him. “The food? No,” I answered, and shrugged. “It’s what we do. It’s death. Birth. Marriage. Divorce.” I smiled. “It’s … Texas.”
I couldn’t sleep, so I sat in the family room by the fireplace, watching Walker, Texas Ranger because Jilly and I had watched every single episode together. Brax watched it with me until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Vaguely, I remembered being carried to my bedroom and tucked in. I woke up thinking it was all a bad dream, and Jilly was in the kitchen scrambling eggs. It wasn’t, and he wasn’t, and sooner or later I’d have to get a damn grip on it.