“Dad—he was cremated. He and his family are buried around the base of this one.” Brady murmured, gesturing at it. “There’s a spot for Tan and me, too, apparently. I’ve never looked.”
Jake nodded, reading the name over again, tracing the curve of theBwith his eyes, seeing the dates, the rock uncovered by the chisel still milky white, waiting for rain and winter to weather it to the darker patina the others already had. He glanced over the other names, and there was Veronica beside it, her birth and death dates. Underneath that was Tanner and Brady, their birth dates but no death date. Peony was not, which irked him a bit. She had as much right to be buried as a West as anyone.
As Jake scanned the rest of the granite, over to the other side, in not quite as fresh but nonetheless newly chiseled letters, was his name, the same way.
“Fuck,” he whispered, and pointed. “He put me on here too.”
Brady crouched and ran fingers over the lettering, then looked back at Jake with raised eyebrows. “Well, look at that. We never noticed at the interment. Dirt was heaped up, maybe it was hidden by some of the flowers.”
It hit Jake squarely in the chest as he stood there, and he couldn’t breathe, narrowing in on his own name, the hair on the back of his neck rising as his unease took hold.
His dad was in the ground in front of him, and someday he would be too. He’d never dealt with death like this before, at least not so directly and visibly. It was fucking scary to contemplate, and he hadn’t even known the man. He had actively hated him for most of his life.
Did he still hate him? It was a huge question, and it added pressure to the weight sitting on his chest as he stood there. He let out another big breath, looking away, the tension cording across his shoulders. They were here for Tanner, not this, and he forced himself look for him instead of focusing on the mild panic creeping across his body.
They heard a cough, and Jake stepped around the monument to find Tanner sprawled out, his back propped against the stone, the bottle of Crown Royal in his hand almost empty. The view of the Rockies from this side was spectacular, and obviously why this hill had been sectioned off. Jake looked at the hazy peaks in the distance before squatting beside his brother. Brady had done the same on the other side, a hand already on his shoulder, which Tanner shook off.
Bloodshot eyes turned Jake’s way, then back to the horizon. Tanner had been crying, or he was already completely drunk, Jake wasn’t sure. Brady hung his head but Jake caught the look on his youngest brother’s face that said he was in uncharted territory, just as much as Jake was. Jake immediately steeled himself like he did when he had to talk his mother into a cab or help her in the door of his apartment.
He stuffed all the worry and unanswered questions deep down inside and went calm.
“Come to rub some salt in?” Tanner rasped, and took a long pull from the bottle.
The liquid sloshing against the glass was such a familiar sound, Jake swore he’d been transported to a back kitchen somewhere in the city. A gentle breeze and the smell of fresh-cut hay were the only reminders that it was a different time, a different family member.
He reached out and took the bottle from Tanner, who let it go without a fight, fingers slack, hand falling to his lap. Jake gave him a gentle nudge.
“Move over.”
Tanner shuffled sideways, and Jake lowered himself down beside his brother. Brady sat down cross-legged where he was, and the three of them went silent, looking across the fields toward the mountains. The breeze lifted Jake’s hair off his forehead, and he took in yet another deep, cleansing breath, filling his lungs.
From this vantage point, he allowed himself to find calmness in the fresh vibrancy around him. There was no dirty concrete, no skyscrapers blotting out the sun, no smog that could make you choke, no sirens that made your ears bleed.
Right now, there was only peaceful, centering, open space.
“You know, Dad used to tell meOne day this will all be yours, son.” Tanner’s voice was slurred, and he flailed his hand out in front of him. “Bullshit, all of it.”
“Not bullshit. It is yours,” Jake replied, catching Brady’s eye.
Brady nodded but thinned his lips, squinting back out at the mountains in the distance.
“It is bullshit. He never told us ’bout you, or that my own brother isn’t—”
Tanner hiccupped and stopped talking, squeezing his eyes shut. He was beyond drunk, but not to the point where he was going to toss his cookies back up. At least Jake hoped not. The truck ride home would suck if Tanner did.
“I don’t know what’s right anymore,” Tanner added finally, which was the heart of the issue. His father, whom he had looked up to his whole life, had lied and kept the truth from him. Jake understood that now more than ever.
“I get it. Peony told me on one of the first nights I was here that Brett looked for me after my mom left, apparently never stopped, even long after he had you two. My mom always said that we were kicked out, that my father was a good-for-nothing asshole who didn’t want me. That we were better off without him.”
“Really?” Brady said, finally speaking. “That had to be really tough to swallow as a kid.”
“Well, apparently he . . . he was an asshole,” Tanner spit out, and sniffed, running the back of his flannel shirt cuff under his nose. “He knew you weren’t his, Brady. He had to.”
“Maybe. But here’s the thing, Tan. It doesn’t matter anymore,” Brady said, and stood up quickly, looking over his shoulder.
Jake followed Brady’s gaze, and Chip’s brown muzzle popped around the corner, his ears forward, nosing Brady, who grabbed his reins. Chip dragged him forward toward Tanner, seeing his human on the ground.
Jake sensed that Brady was really uncomfortable, unsure of what to say or do, and the distraction was a welcome one as Brady busied himself with looking the horse over.
