Page 39 of With You Forever

Seth releases a frustrated exhale and takes another long swig of whiskey. “Why’s it gotta be Lacey? Why’s it gotta be any of us? It’s bullshit.” He straightens up, rips a hand through his hair, paces the porch. “We’ve had so much bullshit these last three fuckin’ years.” Seth roves his eyes to Luke. “You losin’ Sal.” To Griff. “Alabama gettin’ hurt.” Now Jace. “And you and Emmy Lou goin’ through so much shit, and now Lacey could—”

He cuts off as Lacey passes by the sliding glass door.

Lacey happy, laughing, pulling Sal along with her to the bar, breaks something in Seth.

He turns away, unable to finish the sentence. His vision blurs as hot tears cloud his thoughts.

Lacey could die.

The thought’s like organ failure, total body and mind shutdown.

“Oh fuck.” Seth presses palms into his wet eyes. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want to break down, but his boys gather around him. Silent. Steady. Telling him it’s okay if he does. Telling him they’re here.

“Let it out, man,” Jace says.

A shaky shudder rips out of Seth. “She’s only thirty. She’s too young. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Luke holds his stare. “She doesn’t. And you don’t.”

“I can’t lose her.” Seth grips the neck of the whiskey bottle and looks out at the sky. “She’s gotta be okay. She has to be.”

Because if she’s not okay, Seth doesn’t want to be.

“You ain’t losin’ her. You’re gonna get married and life’s gonna work out.” Luke wipes his own eyes and grabs Seth’s arm. “It’s gonna work out. We got you.”

Throat bobbing hard, Griff tilts his beer.

Jace nods. “Always, man.”

Seth wipes his eyes. The words, the reassurances from his brother, from his friends, are like a balm. His chest, his heart, feels looser than it’s been in a long time. Seth exhales. Lifting the whiskey bottle to his eyeline, he says, “Wasn’t plannin’ to cry after just one drink, but here we are.”

With a snort, Griff jerks his head toward the house. “C’mon. You need somethin’ to take your mind off this shit.”

Seth grins. “More whiskey?”

“Nah,” Jace says. “Somethin’ better.”

“Somethin’ stronger.” Luke grins, slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Music.”

The night’s a blur of drinking and dancing, of music and laughter, especially when the Brothers Kincaid and Griff take the stage. Despite Seth’s hand, they play long and loud into the night. Finally, around midnight the guests slowly trickle out, leaving only their core group remaining. They sit curled up on the L-shaped leather couch, the slider doors thrown open, the buzz of the night outside.

Sal sinks onto Luke’s lap, her eyes bright yet tired. “I don’t think I’ve been up this late since Vegas.”

“Face it,” Jace chuckles, a cold beer in his hand. “We’re old.”

Emmy Lou yawns, rubbing her stomach. “We’re pregnant.”

“Still, you danced your ass off,” Alabama adds. There’s glitter in her hair.

Emmy Lou flaps her arms. “Gotta get that funky chicken down right.”

“For the kids,” Jace adds, and everyone laughs.

Lacey, sitting beside Seth, stares up at his handsome face as he laughs right along with everyone. Carefree. Happy.

Not like earlier tonight. She had seen him on the front porch with the boys, his posture stiff. And his face—pained.

So much pain.

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