Page 84 of Peaches

I hold up the hanger in my hand so he can see the apparel bag. “We found you a nice suit,” I declare. “Kasey and I weren’t exactly sure of your size, but there’s two in here, just in case.”

Brooks looks back and forth between us, eyes glistening. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Kasey and I follow him into the house, and while Kasey helps him get dressed, I clear the living room and kitchen of all the empty bottles and dirty dishes, doing what I can to erase the evidence of his pain in case the boys come back here tonight. It’s obvious Brooks has been lost in his own mind, using whiskey to drown out what he’s feeling, and my heart squeezes at how lonely and scared he must feel. How broken his heart is.

We’ve given him space long enough, I decide. From now on, we need to be here with him to help him get back to living again, no matter how long it takes.

When Brooks and Kasey come back out from his bedroom, Brooks is dressed in an all-black suit. His dark hair is swept to the side, mostly dry now. Of all my brothers, I look the most like him. We both have the same dark curls, same gray eyes, but where I still carry some of the boyish features of my youth, Brooks is all hard edges. His jaw is sharp, his nose steep, and the weight of his grief makes him look even older than he is.

Still, he looks good. Ready to honor the happy and love-filled life of his wife.

When he looks at me, I recognize the uncertainty in his eyes. So I move to him, wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders, and say, “You look perfect, brother.”

* * *

The funeral is beautiful,though difficult to get through.

We kept it private, holding the quiet ceremony on a section of land that grows wild near a trickling creek where the gravestones of past Bennetts are scattered within the tall grass. Soon the land will be covered with wildflowers, and it feels fitting for Melody to be here when they bloom.

From the moment we step out of the herd of trucks that bring us all here, the boys and Brooks are already crying. But Brooks seems to be aware that they need him as he holds all three tight in his arms as they lean on him and each other. By the end of the short ceremony, most of our faces are wet with tears—including Dad’s. I was honestly surprised to see him come down the stairs today on the lift Mom installed years ago, but I’m thankful for his show of support. I know it means something to Brooks.

Sawyer is the only one who doesn’t succumb to tears, though I know he’s feeling emotion just the same. It’s in the way he keeps pressing a hand against Wells’s back, a tell he’s always had that he’s feeling nervous or troubled. He’s never been able to express himself as easily as the rest of us.

Olivia stands by my side the whole time, squeezing my hand. When the emotion becomes too much—when it’s Olivia’s face I see in that casket as the fear of losingherrages through me—she pulls me back with her hand on my tear-streaked jaw and her lips quick on my neck.

We watch as the boys take turns dropping pictures they drew for Melody in the ground with her, their eyes wet and noses red. It’s going to take them a long time to heal from this, but as I look around at the dozen of us gathered together beneath a hundred-year-old oak tree, I know together we can help them through. For the first time in my life, I realize the weight of our struggles doesn’t need to just fall on me. That, as a family, we can bear it together.

When the ceremony is over, Olivia and I head back toward the trucks with Wells, Layla, Sawyer, and Kasey, giving Brooks and his family some space to just be together. Mom pushes Dad’s chair through the aisles of other gravestones as they take a moment to visit his parents and grandparents, and all the other Bennetts who came before the ones that are here now.

Later, we take an hour or so to refresh at home before all heading to Wild Coyote for a celebration of life. Though we kept the funeral private, Mom reached out to some folks from town to invite them to the bar for an opportunity to show Brooks and our family support. While I doubt anyone will grieve Melody the way we do—no one ever tried to get to know her like they should have—I know without a doubt the bar will be packed with the folks who thrive on the pain and suffering of others.

The thought irritates me beyond belief. “I don’t even want to go to this,” I mutter darkly to Olivia, who’s helping me back into my jacket. We spent the last half hour lost in each other above the bar after I opened up to her about how scared I felt during the funeral, how I can’t stand the thought of losing her.

Her nails painted my skin in half-moon indentations as I sunk inside of her against the wall, and I want to tattoo them into my skin so they stay forever. It undoes something inside of me, to be marked by her. To be changed by this so completely I know there’s no going back.

“We have to,” she says softly, smoothing her hands down my lapels.

I know she’s right. I’m surprised Brooks is even willing to be here, but I imagine that, for his wife, he’d show up just about anywhere. “Can we make a safe word?”

Her eyes spark. “A safe word for the party?”

I nod, stepping toward her so our chests are pressed together. “Yeah. Like if I need an out from a bad conversation, I can use ‘rope’ in a sentence and you’ll know that Idesperatelyneed you back up here so I can tie you up again.”

“Who the hell do you think I am, Rhett?” she chides, swatting at me.

Mine. The word blares to life in my mind, drowning out any other coherent thought. I reach to press my hand around her throat to remind her of it. “Olivia,” I rasp as my thumb slips down her skin, tracing her hard swallow. Her eyes grow dark as her mouth parts open, and I struggle like hell to stop myself from kissing her now. From licking into her mouth with all the need burning inside of me. But I hold it together, forcing a polite smile. “Is that a no?”

She laughs, playfully pushing me away. “If you behave for the whole night, you can tie me up for as long as you want after.”

My blood heats at the thought.

I watch as she slips on her earrings in front of the mirror, her brow wrinkled in concentration. She’s my wildest dream come true, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows how fucking gone I am for her. Making sure she understands just how deep this goes for me, how I don’t stand a chance against the way I feel for her. “I’m never going anywhere, peaches,” I say, the words out before I can catch them. “You have me, for as long as you want.”

She turns to look at me, eyes shining. “You have me too, Rhett.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

OLIVIA

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