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They stand, milling about, almost as a receiving line for people as they meander back to their cars. Pop stands on the far end, surrounded by family friends who speak words I can’t hear. He nods and offers a shadow of his true smile, all the while allowing his gaze to dart back to the square hole in the ground just past his shoulder.
“Anybody up for drinking ourselves into oblivion?” I ask when we get back to them. Leave it to me to have my priorities straight.
My brothers meet my gaze. Braxton nods. Exton jerks his head once, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. Layton shrugs.
“Where to? Braxton’s? Home?” I try not to choke on the last word. Home will always be Mom and Pop’s, even if I have my own place outside of the ranch gates.
“My place,” Brax offers. “We can always stumble over to Pop’s or the barn. Eli, you in?”
“Let me take Ma home, and I’ll be there. Going to hit the liquor store on my way. What’re we drinking?”
“Vodka or gin,” Layton says.
“Beer for me. After whiskey,” Exton offers.
“I’ve got rum and tequila,” Brax states.
“Is Everclear too much to ask?”
Four sets of male eyes pin me, and as if it were orchestrated, in unison, the men nod. But it’s Pop’s voice that cuts through their silence. “Yes.”
“All right.” I nod to him before turning back to the bro crew. “All right. I’ll drink whatever. Don’t even care what it tastes like. Brax, do you have Cointreau?”
“Yep.”
“Limes, Elias, if you don’t mind.” I turn on my heel and walk away. I need to get home. To get out of this wretched black dress, to pull my long hair back in a ponytail. To throw on something comfy and snuggle my dog. “See y’all in a few.”
Someone’s going to say I was rude for not greeting and thanking our guests. They can suck it. I’m not being impolite. I’m not the hostess of an event. I appreciate them coming but don’t want them here. Hell, I don’t want to be here. None of us wants to be here.
The sound of shoes crunching on soft grass greets me as Layton’s long strides catch up to mine. He says nothing, but climbs in the passenger seat of my Wrangler. It won’t be long before the top comes off for the summer, but I couldn’t roll up at the cemetery like a douchey surfer or weekend rock crawler.
Layton turns off the radio, and we ride in silence until we get out of the cemetery grounds and onto the street, when he rolls down our windows, closes his eyes, and slumps in his seat. He’s six three and shredded. It might be the off season when he’s not in his peak physical condition, but his non-peak is more than most elite athletes at their best. His normally imposing form is diminished. We’re all off kilter without Mom.
“Take the long way?” His eyes are still closed, and I pretend not to see the lone tear roll down his cheek.
“Absolutely.” I grab a hair tie from around my gear shift and throw my hair up into a messy knot before taking the next left instead of the right I’d normally take to go home.
We ride on old country roads, those that dip before cresting into well-known valleys and sharp, blind curves. Within minutes, Lay has loosened his tie and reaches for the radio before thinking better of it. We spend almost an hour just letting the sun warm us and the breeze cool us.
No music.
No conversation.
Finally, he turns and drops a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks. I needed— well, just needed to not be there.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I guess we should head back. Next time, top off and doors off and no fucking funerals.”
“You got it, Lay.”
We make it to my house. Not rushing or taking shortcuts, but not stretching it out any further either. “Amazing how much I can relax with a decent drive.” Or ride. Or with decent music I think, but don’t say out loud, mostly because I don’t have to. He knows me. I’m never without music. That drive was silent for Layton because he needed it. I’d have had some Johnny Cash or Don Williams playing.
“I’ll stay here. Go get changed. You can send Looney Luna out if you want.”
“Roger that.” I hop out and make my way to my front door, leaving it ajar for Luna. I strip out of the dress I hope to never wear again and throw on joggers and a tee with some running shoes. I yank a brush through my hair that is wind-whipped and knotted. It goes right up into a ponytail. A quick washcloth across my face removes the bulk of my foundation, stained by tear streaks, and cleans up the black mascara marks smudging under my eyes.
I’m out the door in under five minutes to find Layton in the driver’s seat and Luna with her head poking out the back window. Her tail thumps against the seats, whipping into Layton as she does.
