“It was a lovely funeral,” someone says, passing by. The wife of an employee. Someone. Dunno who. Dunno that I care.
“Thank you,” Nat says, taking the casserole dish that’s shoved into her hands. “I’ll just go put this away. Won’t you have a seat? The family’s in the main parlor.” She hustles past, a flash of black in her dress, her pretty legs set off by her heels. Feels wrong to be checkin’ out my girl’s legs at my brother’s funeral, but I don’t know what else to do.
Just so fuckin’ glad she’s here at my side.
I pushed her away when I got the news, I think. I was in shock. Don’t even know half of what I said. I just know that she stormed away, cryin’, and then came back. She came back for me, and that’s when I lost it. Bawled like a baby on her shoulder and told her about Seth’s—
Fuck. I rub my mouth. Can’t even say the word. Can’t. Doesn’t seem real that my youngest brother’s gone. Doesn’t seem right that I should be at his funeral a little over a month after we were just at Eddie’s funeral and I decided to change my life.
At least now I’ve got Nat. I don’t know what I’d have done if she wasn’t here.
She’s been amazing this week. Ivy’s struggled, thanks to her own grief and her pregnancy. Boone’s been a mess. Me too, really. Knox has been distant. Gage has been drunk. We’re all miserable. But Nat just stepped in and took over funeral arrangements. Wanted to make it easier on everyone, so we let her. She and Ivy worked on it while me and my brothers tried to figure out what to do with the Price Brothers now that we’re four instead of five.
Just the thought makes my eyes sting. Fuck. I stare up at the ceiling even as people file into the parlor and start murmurin’ condolences to each other. Gage sits next to me, a beer in his hands—Seth’s favorite beer. For the first time in the last week, he isn’t tippin’ a bottle back to his mouth. He’s just holdin’ it, empty.
Think he’s the one that’s takin’ this harder than all of us. I’m tore up, but Gage . . . he’s broken. He and Seth were closest out of all of us—both in age and in friendship.
“I’m the one that nagged him to go back to work,” Gage says suddenly.
“Huh?” I look over at him.
Gage stares at his beer, expression hollow. “I told him that Boone wanted him to show his stuff. That he needed to make us proud. Everyone did their turn on a rig, you know? Didn’t matter that we had money. It was a pride thing. That’s what Price brothers do. We roughneck. And he didn’t wanna go.” He rolls the bottle back and forth in his hands. “I talked him into it.”
“You didn’t know,” I tell him, the knot back in my throat. Seems permanently lodged there lately. “It was a freak accident. Equipment slipped. It happens.” I wiggle my toes in my boot, because every time there’s a rig accident, I think about mine and what it cost me.
Cost Seth his life.
“I should have known,” Gage says bitterly. “Seth was such a dumbass, you know? Never paid attention. That’s why his rig had an accident—he always got distracted. The others won’t say whose fault it was that the pipe got loose, but you and I both know he was a lazy little fuck.” He gets up and suddenly flings the beer bottle across the room.
It crashes against the wall, leaving a wet splat, and the wake goes silent.
“Can’t stay here,” Gage says, and storms out of the room.
Natalie comes in a moment later, eyes wide. Her gaze goes to the stain on the wall. “I’ll get some towels.” She races away and comes back a short time later, shooing Ivy away from cleaning it up. She’s got it.
She’s takin’ care of all of us, I think. Nat hates seein’ people hurt. She just wants to make it better.
I don’t deserve her. She’s too good.
I watch, aching, as she picks up glass and then hurries off to dispose of it. I worry I’ve fucked things up between us. That night, I know I hurt her feelings. She came back anyhow, and I cried on her shoulder, but ever since then, I know I’ve been distant and preoccupied. It’s like everything that happens this week is another stab in the gut. Meetings with shareholders to determine what’s going to happen to Seth’s share of Price Brothers Oil. Meetings with lawyers to determine how his estate will be settled. Meetings with employees to fill out work reports. Meetings with the funeral home. It’s a never-ending parade of reminders that my little brother, who had his entire life ahead of him, lost it all on a simple rig accident.
And I haven’t been dealin’ with it too well. I haven’t touched Nat in days. I’ve wanted to. God, have I wanted to. But it feels wrong to touch her and be happy to have her in my arms when Seth’s gone. I feel guilty for the contentment I feel when I wake up with her in bed, curled up next to me. I don’t know how to handle it.
So I don’t, and I suspect that just makes things worse.
Nat hasn’t said anything to me, but she has to be imagining the worst. How can she not? I haven’t been the man she deserves. Not lately.
Someone comes and sits down next to me. I straighten, about to tell them to fuck off, when I realize it’s a heavily pregnant blonde woman. Ivy. She settles in the chair next to me and then rests a hand on the top of her belly, a handkerchief clutched in her fingers. “Mind if I sit for a few? Baby’s feeling a little heavy today.”
“Course not,” I tell her. I put a smile on my face because she looks so tired and worn. She’s due in about two weeks and she looks exhausted. This hasn’t been easy on any of us, but I know Boone’s takin’ things real hard because he feels like a father figure to all of us. Fuck, who am I kiddin’? We’re all wrecked. But I feel like I need to be lighthearted so Ivy doesn’t worry. “Junior there sittin’ on your bladder?”
“Not Junior,” she tells me, as we launch into our familiar game.
I take up the reins. “I’ve been thinkin’ you should go with somethin’ close to Boone’s name. Like Bud. Or Bo.”
Ivy looks over at me and just gives me this sweet, content smile. “We decided on a name last night, you know. It’s going to be Seth.” She rubs a hand down the swell of her belly. “I think he’d like that.”
“He’d fuckin’ love it,” I tell her hoarsely. My vision blurs and doubles. Fuck. I’m gonna bawl like a baby right in front of Ivy. Goddamn it, but I miss my little brother. I miss him so much.
Wordlessly, Ivy offers me her handkerchief.
I take it and blow my nose loudly. “Thanks.” As I do, Nat sails past, another dish in her hands. She’s talking animatedly to a couple that have come in, showing them around the house. Distant cousins, I think, judging by their clothes. Or employees of PBO that worked on a rig with Seth. Dunno. There’s a strange mix at this wake—some of the folks are dressed in Armani suits and wearing gold jewelry. Some are just wearin’ their best Sunday shirt and jeans, ’cause that’s all they’ve got that’s proper. All that matters is they’re here to show respect, and I like that Nat treats ’em all like close personal friends of the family, even Seth’s stoner buddies that show up and huddle in the corner.
“She’s been such a big help this week,” Ivy says in a soft voice. “She knows we’re struggling and she’s been doing whatever she can to help out. I’d have been lost without her.” She looks over and smiles at me weakly. “Wynonna wasn’t much help. Finals and all that.”
I nod slowly. “She’s got a real soft heart. Hates seein’ us hurtin’.”
“She’s wonderful, Clay.”
“I know.”
My sister-in-law reaches over and pats my hand. “Just making sure you do. I know you paid her to be your girlfriend, but I can tell that you care for her. You just make sure you tell her that at some point, okay? Girls like to be told that sort of thing. I know you boys all think it’s just implied, but it’s not.”
I nod.
“I just don’t want you to let her get away.” Ivy rubs her hand slowly up and down her belly again. “Boone told me about the past, when you two broke up. You deserve happiness. Just don’t let it slip between your fingers.” She gives me a self-deprecating little smile. “Look at me, lecturing you like I’m the great love expert or something. I just like her and I’d like a sister-in-law at some point. And I think she’s good for you.”
I kinda think she’s good for me, too. “I’ll tell her. I promise.”
Natalie
I’m exhausted after the wake. Hours after the guests have gone, I’m with the kitchen staff, cleaning up the endless piles of dishes. Ivy’s upstairs sleeping—she’s far too pregnant to be helping clean up. The brothers are all upstairs playing cards and sharing memories of Seth. He loved poker, Clay told me last night, and so they wanted to play a few hands in his honor after his funeral. I totally understand, and I’m keeping busy while Clay gets the grief out of his system. There’s a mounting list of chores to be done, and I’m used to cleaning until late, thanks to my one-woman show at Dad’s museum. So I find the vacuum in Ivy’s enormous house and clean while the others occupy themselves with their grief. I’m not good with it, I don’t think. My mother died when I was young, and my father’s side of my family was pretty much dead and gone by the time I showed up. I’ve never had a big extended family, never had siblings. There’s been stepmothers, of course, but I didn’t cry when they left. I can’t imagine the grief that Clay is going through right now.
So I do what I can to help out.
I hate seeing him hurting so much. Every night, he doesn’t want to make love. He just pulls me close and holds me for hours on end. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t get angry at the world that took his brother from him. But he needs my touch. Even when I wake up in the morning, he’s still wrapped around me, as if he’s terrified I’m going to leave him.