Jack pressed his lips together and then folded the paper, tucking it into his jacket pocket. He took off his glasses, and Shepley walked him across the stage as the tune of one of Thomas’s favorite songs began humming through the speakers.
Jack sat next to his brother, and they comforted each other while the music played. Even Abby and Travis were crying. Abby hugged Liis, while Travis rocked Stella, touching his cheek to her forehead, tears dripping from the tip of his nose. I intertwined my fingers with my husband’s trembling hand, squeezing hard. He wiped his cheeks, sucking in a breath between quiet sobs. As I scanned the faces of our family, we looked so broken, so lost. My breath faltered, watching a local pastor take the stage. He would attempt to offer comfort and pray for our loss, but nothing would take away the pain. Not even God. I looked at Trenton, watching him let his tough-guy persona fall away in front of a huge crowd without a second thought. It was heartbreaking to watch men fall apart—men who could face anything else without flinching. Now, pain flooded in with their every breath, and I sat in the midst of Thomas’s brothers, wishing I could take their pain away, wishing mine would somehow disappear. It was too much to process. The music only made it hurt worse, so I decided to feel nothing, the way I did when I was little and my father was hitting my mother.
Several cars were parked in the drive, spilling out down both sides of the street in front of Jim Maddox’s home, just as I’d pictured. As the news of Thomas’s death spread, more people would arrive, bringing casseroles and sweet memories.
I swallowed, bracing myself for condolences. Jim was the father who would bury his first-born. Liis was the widow. I was the sister-in-law and the ex-girlfriend. I felt like my grief ran deeper than Falyn’s or Abby’s, and that spawned guilt. My stomach sank, and my nose burned. There was nothing I wanted to do less than walk into the house and play the part of supporting wife and sister-in-law and ignore that Thomas was also my first love, that we had shared a bed more than once, and we had almost moved in together. He had loved me, and I would have to pretend none of that existed out of respect for his wife and my husband.
Trenton squeezed my hand. “I know,” he said simply. With two words, he set my mind at ease, expressing both understanding and unconditional love. He’d forgiven me the night before for my lies and omissions. It wasn’t okay, he pointed out, but it was understandable, and he loved me anyway.
A black sea of friends and extended family milled about the house, trudging over the carpet Diane had chosen, through the rooms Thomas had once played in, and where they were once a complete family that death hadn't touched. This was why Diane had made Jim walk away from the police force. This was why she made him promise not to let the kids follow in his footsteps. Once Death took Diane in its arms, Jim and the boys have all been waiting for it to come for them. It became real then, a tangible thing, because it didn’t just happen to someone else. It happened to her. Their everything, their sunshine, their constant. And then she was a memory that faded with each passing day. Trenton had said he’s struggled to remember the sound of her voice and the exact color of her eyes. The moment she’d passed, they had seen Death, and Death had seen them.
Taylor and Tyler were sitting around the dining table in front of homemade dishes and a stack of clean plates. Their wives sat next to them, attempting to help them carry the pain. Because it wasn't going away. It would never go away. No matter how many times they yelled, threw punches, or lost their tempter, they couldn't win.
Ironically, Travis was taking it the best. He was making sure the brothers had water or beer, and that they were comfortable with the number on the thermostat. Trenton and Shepley were still angry with Travis, and the twins were still on his side, but they couldn't fight one another today. They needed each other to get through it.
Abby stood out from the rest in a muted blue dress, sitting in the corner where Liis had been a few days before, glaringly without Carter. I watched as she fussed with her dress, tugging at the too-tight parts and pulling at the square neckline to cover the bulging breasts of a new mother.
"You look beautiful," I assured her.
She rolled her eyes. "Thank you. It's tighter than I thought it'd be, but I didn't really have anything for the occasion."
"It's perfect," I said. "I have a lot of black. You should have called."
"Nothing in your closet is going to fit me right now," she said.
"I'm actually a little surprised Travis isn't scrambling over here to keep you covered.”
Travis had been known for complaining when Abby wore something too revealing or too tight, aware of his own jealousy. In the beginning, he was trying to be proactive to avoid a fight. But after they were married, something changed, and Travis wasn't as sensitive. Still, Travis unaffected by the overabundance of cleavage was serious progress.
"Good for you," I said, crossing my arms and sitting back. The somber faces in the room reminded me why we were gathered at Jim's, and the sickness that had settled in my stomach in the last week had returned. It wasn't just grief. Something was off, and I couldn't quite figure it out. Travis and Liis were leaning on each other quite a bit, and Abby—though typically stoic—didn't seem as affected by Thomas' death. "Abby," I said. "If you knew something else ... about Thomas ... you'd tell us, right?"
Abby sighed. "When I left the hospital without my son, I cried for a full hour. I didn't want to, but I had to, so I did. I left him there alone to come here to be with family. And I'll go straight back to the hospital when this is over. I've done that every day for nearly a week. Hold my son, careful of the wires and tubing attached to him. Worry, enjoy my time with him, feel guilty being away from the twins, and then tell him goodbye, cry, and leave."
I waited for her to make her point, but she didn't seem to have one. I took that as her way of telling me my question was inappropriate, and she was just going to talk about what she wanted.
"He's doing better, though?" I asked.
"Getting stronger every day. We're hoping he can come home next week."
"You're a good mom. I know it's hard."
"Having your heart split into three pieces, walking around vulnerable outside my body? Some days it's torture. There are no words to describe how frightening, wonderful, awful, and exhausting it is. Worrying seems like second nature. It's a part of me because I love them so much, even before they were born, that if something bad happened to them, it would be worse than death. I hear about children dying, and I find myself apathetic because if I think about it too much, I'll break down. People say it's every parent's worst nightmare. It's not a nightmare. You wake up from nightmares."
"Motherhood sounds ... lovely," I said.
"You'll see," Abby said, wiping her wet cheeks.
I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not sure I want to."
Travis walked toward us, having just said goodbye to someone on the phone. He tapped the display and dropped the sleek tech into his suit pocket. "NICU says he just had lunch. He's an animal ... Hey, Cami."
"Hey," I said.
"Where's Trent?" he asked.
"I think I saw him go into the living room," Abby said.
"Straight to Dad," Travis said, sitting down with us. He picked at a hangnail on his thumb. "He's always been a daddy's boy."
"Don't pretend you aren't. That you all aren't," Abby smirked.