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He’d injected enough firmness into the order to at least catch her attention, give her pause, but even if he barked at her like a drill sergeant, Brick knew her compulsion to get up, not worry her family, would propel her off the bench.
However, if she stood up, she was going to pass out. Snow had more color than her face. When she wilted, Rory noticed immediately, pivoting his chair in her direction. He’d been watching her during the service almost as closely as Brick had.
Daralyn was already headed toward Les, but Brick moved purposefully up the path toward her and Rory. By the time he’d closed the short distance, Thomas had glanced over his shoulder and murmured to Elaine. When she noted Les on the bench, she began to backtrack.
Brick shook his head, lifting a hand. He intended to be a gateway; he would let them pass if they insisted, but he would do his damnedest to keep that from happening. He could feel Les’s agony. She was terrified she would detract from the significance of this ritual because of her own shit. Though no one else would feel like that, it was how she’d be thinking of it in her head, making her lightheadedness even worse, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
“I’ve got her,” he said quietly. “We’ll be there in a minute. Please. She’s okay.”
Thomas and Rory glanced at their mother. Elaine pressed her lips together. Probably surprising them all—even Brick—she took Thomas’s arm again. A simple serenity gripped Daralyn’s features. “He’ll take care of her,” she told Rory. “He’s the one who’s supposed to take care of her.”
Brick guessed it made the most sense that Daralyn, a female submissive herself, interpreted and was more reassured by his words and gestures, his body language, than any of the others.
Brick met Rory’s gaze. Yes. I will take care of her. Always.
After another assessing moment, Rory wheeled his chair around to follow Elaine. Marcus brought up the rear. He gave Brick a confirming look before following the rest of the family.
Brick returned to her. Shit, her shoulders were rising and falling fast, her fists against her chest. She was panicking, fighting herself, and bringing on a worse reaction, just as he’d feared.
He dropped to his heels next to her, putting his hand on her back. “Breathe. Listen to my voice, and breathe.”
She’d seemed quiet this morning, and when he’d learned the morning’s agenda included a visit to the cemetery, he figured that was the primary cause of her pensiveness. The loss of their father was still a big hit for the Wilder kids. Les herself had likely been focused on that, and not on what had blindsided her.
Of course walking through a graveyard, where there would inevitably be children’s graves, would cause her issues. He’d anticipated it, keeping her to the rear, and being prepared to do what he’d just done with her family.
“They’ll meet us there,” he told her. “We’re by ourselves. Just breathe, baby. You’re not ruining anything. You’re okay. I’m here.”
Her breathing was evening out, the hand clutched on his coat sleeve less desperate. When he gauged the timing was right, he drew her to her feet. Her arms slid under his suit jacket, and she held onto him, her face hard against his chest, shoulders trembling.
“I took him away from her. How can I ever…oh God, Brick. It’ll never be okay.”
“No. It’ll never be okay. But other things will be. Life is more than our losses and mistakes, Les.” He injected the edge into his voice she needed, and tipped up her chin. “Time. You need time. Llanzo’s mother needs time. Life goes on. Simple truths. Hold onto me, and let that be enough for today.”
“I’m…we should catch up to them.”
“Did you eat anything this morning?”
“No…Easter lunch is huge. End of Lent and all.” She gave him that tremulous smile. “I’d throw up if I ate anything right now.”
“We’ll catch up, but only if you lean on me. Okay, doc?”
They made their way along the path. As they went over a slight rise, a semi-circle of crepe myrtles a couple hundred feet to their left showed their destination. The Wilder family was there, with the exception of Marcus, who had remained on Brick and Les’s path. Keeping an eye on them, in case Brick needed backup.
“She’s okay,” Brick answered his silent look. “Should have eaten something this morning.”
“I’m good, Marcus. I’m just being stupid.” Les already looked painfully embarrassed. She’d never been comfortable at the center of attention.
Seeing it, knowing it himself, Marcus acted accordingly. “You’re not being that at all. Come on, let’s head that way.” He flanked Les’s other side. With each step toward the rest of the family, Brick felt her reclaim her grip on her self-possession, just like she had for the M&M. It was a well that most of the time seemed astonishingly limitless.
Deep enough to drown her when she lost her grip. It was why she had him, though. That was what a Dom was supposed to do. The kind of Dom he wanted to be, at least.
Once they reached the others, she stepped away from Brick and Marcus, joining her mother and Daralyn. Daralyn had divided her flowers into two small bouquets, and she handed one to Les. As the three men watched, the two younger women placed the bouquets in the smaller containers mounted on either side of the stone.
When Les and Daralyn stepped back, Elaine put her bouquet in the larger middle container, kneeling to arrange and spread it out. “We love you, Robert,” she murmured. “I know you’re so proud of these wonderful children of ours.”
Brick saw Rory swallow, a muscle flexing in Thomas’s jaw as Marcus put a hand against his back. Les stood alone, facing her mother. Before Brick could close the distance between them, Elaine’s gaze met hers. She turned toward the rest of the family.
“Les and I are going to walk a little bit. We’ll meet you at the rotunda.”
