“Once you have everything loaded up,” he says, his arm tightening around me. “Take it out to my place. We'll deal with it from there.”
Will dips his head, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. “I can do that.”
He looks back at me then, his eyes full of something achingly kind.
“Olive,” he says softly, “again, I’m real sorry for your loss. Ms. Lura was one of the good ones.”
My throat tightens painfully. I nod, blinking hard, trying to hold it together.
“She was the best,” I manage, my voice cracking despite my best efforts.
Will gives a small, respectful nod, then heads toward the porch where the Chief's team is already beginning to gather.
The moment we’re alone again, Liam turns me into him, wrapping me up tight. His hand slides up and down my back, slow and steady.
“You're not alone in this, honey,” he murmurs against my hair. “Not for a second.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing him in, grounding myself in the solid, immovable truth of him.
“I know,” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to frame my face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that escape despite everything.
“Come on,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Let’s go say goodbye.”
My heart clenches, but I nod, letting him guide me to the truck and letting him carry the weight with me.
The ride to Sheridan is quiet, heavy with everything we aren’t saying aloud. Liam drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh, telling me without words that he’s not going anywhere.
When we pull up to the funeral home, I spot Ruby and the rest of Lura’s friends gathered outside, dressed in their best Sunday clothes, clutching tissues and dabbing at their eyes.
Ruby sees me first. She hurries over, wrapping me up in a hug that’s tight and trembling.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “She looks so good. They even painted her nails red.”
A watery laugh escapes me, surprising us both.
“She would have loved that,” I say, blinking up at the sky to try and stop the tears from falling.
Because, God, she would have.
Lura loved anything bold, anything that made a statement right down to her nail polish. Ruby squeezes me tighter, then pulls back just enough to frame my face between her soft, wrinkled hands.
“She’d be so proud of you, Olive,” she says, voice trembling. “She loved you like her own.”
My breath catches, a sob building in my chest, but before it can tear loose, Liam is there, his hand sliding into mine, grounding me with his warmth. I lean into him, grateful beyond words. Ruby gives me one last squeeze, then steps aside to let us pass.
Together, hand in hand, Liam and I walk into the funeral home, where Lura is waiting.
I lose it the moment I see her.
Lura’s body lies in the casket lined with soft pink satin, her hands folded neatly, her nails painted a perfect, bold red. Just like Ruby said. Just like her. It’s too much. The dam inside me cracks wide open, and a sob rips from my throat before I can stop it.
“I know she was ninety,” I choke out, clutching at Liam like he’s the only thing keeping me standing. “I know she lived a wonderful, full life.”
I press my face into his chest, the tears coming hard and fast now, unstoppable.
“But I selfishly wish she was still here with me.”
