Page 62 of Wild Rivals

I smooth my hands over my black knee-length dress and check my reflection one last time before heading downstairs. Mona dropped the dress off yesterday afternoon. She looked as distraught as I feel, but I could tell she was trying to hold it all together for me. That’s all anybody has been trying to do. It’s as if they don’t want to show me their pain.

A fresh pang of guilt hits me in the chest as I remember all the people that work for us. I should check in with them, but I’m not ready to face their sympathy. Besides, Mona has everything in hand.

I can’t bring myself to worry about the ranch—which is a first for me—because today is Daddy’s funeral. It’s our last chance to say goodbye to him as we remember the man that held our family together after we lost Mom. We’ve kept the ceremony small and it will be conducted graveside. It’s what Daddy wanted, at least according to his will. We have the official reading in a few weeks, but I’m not sure I can face it.

Guests fill the house, spilling outside as they wait for the service to start. I move through the house searching for Deacon, Rhett and Sawyer, nodding as I pass relatives or friends I haven’t seen in far too long.

My brothers are waiting outside on the front lawn, dressed in black suits as the sun beats down on them. I step out onto the porch, and they look over at me, each of their faces showing their own grief as they offer me soft smiles.

“You okay, Mads?” Sawyer asks, coming to a stop at the bottom of the front porch steps and holding his hand out to me.

I can only shrug, afraid that if I speak, I’ll cry again. It feels like all I’ve done this past week. I slide my hand into his and allow him to guide me to him, before he pulls me into his side and presses a kiss into my hair as the others gather round.

“He should be here soon,” Rhett says, his voice wavering slightly before he clears his throat.

I reach out and squeeze his hand; he’s still the baby of the family and yet he’s been so strong through all of this.

As if on cue, the black hearse rounds the bend in the distance, crawling slowly along the dirt track. I watch with tears in my eyes until it’s nothing but a black blur in the distance. When I blink, fat droplets fall down my cheeks unchecked, and I turn away, unable to watch. As if not watching it will somehow make it not real.

Standing at the top of the porch steps is Wyatt. I want to run to him but force myself to stay put. He looks sad, which I guess is expected at a funeral, but it feels like there’s more to it than that. After all, it’s not like he was close to my dad.

And there goes that guilt again.

“Hey,” he whispers, coming to a stop in front of me.

Behind him, standing by the front door, I catch sight of his mom, brothers, and sister, their partners, as well as his cousins, Autumn and Olivia. The fact that they showed up chokes me, but it’s the sympathetic looks on their faces that nearly undoes me. I remember attending Wyatt’s dad’s funeral, years back. Daddy had said it was the right thing to do, so it’s nice that they’re here for him today.

Reaching out, Wyatt wipes away the moisture on my cheeks with his thumb, and I allow myself a moment to lean into his touch as I close my eyes.

Focusing on him, I rasp, “Hi. Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear that’s come loose from my ponytail, and I bite the inside of my cheek. His touch is so gentle, like he doesn’t want me to hurt any more than I already am.

God, I’ve missed him these past few days.

The thought barely forms before the sound of car doors opening and closing behind me sends a fresh wave of sadness through me.

Why is this happening?

Why did he have to go?

I don’t understand.

I just want my dad back.

“How are you doing?” Wyatt asks, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s like being pulled back to the surface when I’m drowning.

His concern feels like too much, and as I stare into his blue eyes, I feel a pressure on my chest because he’s being so kind and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.

“I’m fine,” I reply, staring out at the mountains in the distance and begging for them to give me some of their stillness.

As if he can sense my walls being stacked up, Wyatt dusts his lips over my knuckles as he says, “I’m here for you, Mad. Please, don’t push me away.”

I don’t want to. But I know it’s the right thing to do.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he doesn’t need to feel obligated to be there for me, but Deacon calls, “Maddie, it’s time.”

Swallowing down the nausea sitting at the base of my throat, I allow myself one last look at Wyatt before I turn in Deacon’s direction. My legs wobble as I cross my front yard, my eyes locked on the casket sitting atop the flat bed dray. We’re burying Daddy next to Mama in the family cemetery about a twenty-minute walk from the main house. We’ll follow behind as the horses pull his casket along, just like we did with Mom.