Page 2 of Unbearable

“How are you feeling about the trip?” she asked as she slumped to lie down on the bed, spreading her arms out with a sigh.

“I think I am more nervous to go back for the first time than I am sad about the funeral,” I admitted. “Even if that means I am delaying the emotions,” I said while packing a few black outfit options for the funeral, depending on how the weather played out.

September in southern Oregon was a gamble. One day, it could be seventy with not a cloud in sight, and the next, my windshield would need to be replaced because of freezing rain.

“I’m just a call away if you need to talk,” she said.

“Thanks, Noah. I left all the takeout menus on the fridge.”

“What would I do without you? I don’t even know the names of the places we go to. There’sthat taco place, orthe Italian place with the really good cheesecake.” She scrunchedher nose, the way she always did when she was worried. “How long are you staying?”

“I’m taking a month off, but I’ll probably only be there for a week. I don’t think I can handle much more than that.”

“Yeah, can’t risk running into a certain hot, grumpy cowboy, huh?” she teased.

My eyes rolled. “I might not even run into him while I am there.”

I was full of shit, and she knew it. Woodstone Falls was a small town with a population not much larger than the number of books I owned. I wasn’t about to escape anyone, let alone the one person I was trying to avoid. The universe simply worked its magic like that.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She laughed.

My palms were itchy as I sat on the uncomfortable wooden pews, listening to my father give the eulogy. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting colorful patterns on the worn wooden floors. Deciding I couldn’t sit for another moment, I stood and politely excused myself, walking out of the church. The doors creaked as I pushed them open, the cool brass handle smooth under my palm.

Crossing the threshold of the doors was freeing. I couldn’t take another damn moment in that dusty smelling church. The scent of old wood stayed with me as I stepped outside. I took a deep breath, attempting to gain some sort of regulation in my body.

My heavy breaths started to slow as I took in the fresh mountain air. Although my tailbone still ached, my heartbeatstarted to return to normal as my eyes adjusted to the light outside. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few wispy clouds drifting lazily by.

I really tried to sit and focus on the eulogy, but with running on little sleep, my emotions running rampant, and returning to Woodstone Falls for the first time in a decade, I couldn’t handle it.

I wanted to be there for my family, and I loved my grandpa, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for the moment I could return to Seattle and get back to my life. Being out of my routine made me uncomfortable, craving more stability.

I was hit with a crisp fall breeze and took another deep breath. The nostalgia started to creep in, as I remembered this small town where I grew up. The mountains in the distance were lightly dusted with white, while colorful leaves fluttered in all the trees. There was nothing quite like southern Oregon this time of year. The vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows of the leaves painted a picturesque landscape that you might find on a postcard.

Standing on the front steps of the church, I heard the creak of the church doors behind me. Turning, I saw my twin brother, Dorian, approaching. He moved with a quiet grace along the stone pathway, his tall frame and dark hair catching the sunlight filtering through the trees. As he reached me, he opened his arms, and I leaned into his embrace. His arm enveloped me, pulling me close.

“It will be over soon,” he murmured into my hair.

Dorian’s dark eyes, usually serious with others, held a softness as he looked at me. He had always had an innate understanding of my emotions, despite his broody demeanor with everyone else. I was sure he knew I wasready for the day to end before the thought of running out mid-ceremony even crossed my mind.

Growing up as the only girl in the James household, there was never a dull moment. The house, a large but cozy ranch house, was always filled with the sounds of laughter and playful bickering. While there was boundless chaos between the four of us, there was also unwavering love and support that defined our family.

Of all my brothers, Dorian and I had the closest relationship. He was protective but never overbearing, always making sure I was okay. As kids, we’d spend hours exploring the woods behind our house, building forts, and pretending we were adventurers. Those memories felt like a lifetime ago, a stark contrast to the reality we now faced.

I could always count on Dorian. He was my rock, my constant. He knew me better than anyone else, even if I didn’t voice my thoughts. The way he sensed my need for comfort, even without words, was a testament to our bond.

“I’m okay. Just needed a moment,” I admitted, pulling away slightly but keeping his arm around me for support.

His brown eyes, so much like our father’s, were filled with understanding. He nodded, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down on us. The wind rustled the leaves, a gentle reminder of the passage of time. It was comforting in a way, knowing that despite everything, some things remained constant.

The doors open again, and we turned to see Colt and Sawyer, their faces solemn.

“We’re almost done,” my eldest brother, Colt, said, his voice low. “Just a little longer.” Colt was terse, always thestoic one of us. Most likely because he had to grow up overnight when our mother died just as he was entering adulthood.

Sawyer offered a small smile. “We’ll get through this together,” he said, his optimism shining through.

I took a deep breath, feeling the strength of my family around me. The ache of loss was still there, but it was tempered by the love and support of my family.

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