Tanner grabbed it and Jake hefted him up, Tanner’s other hand going out to steady himself as he found his feet, swaying a bit. He blinked a few times and then planted himself against the stone pillar, obviously dizzy.
Jake gave him a once-over just in case, the habit long ingrained in him from his mom, because she usually had some sort of cut or torn clothing, and he stopped his hand halfway toward his brother. This was not his mom, and Tanner was not in need of coddling. He frowned and stepped back, looking away from him, stuffing his hands in his pockets. When Jake looked back at Tanner, he blinked in surprise, because tears were spilling down Tanner’s face.
Shit.
That was not something Tanner would want him to see, so he reached forward and pulled him into a hug, bracing for a punch or a shove.
Surprisingly, Tanner didn’t push him away, but instead leaned into him and put his arms around him. Jake held him up, letting him get it out of his system, and cleared his throat because he didn’t want to cry either. But, as he held Tanner, a strange unplaceable emotion overtook him. This man, his brother, the one who had hated him on sight, needed him.
Tanner let go after a few moments, shrugging up his shoulders and wiping at his face, not meeting Jake’s eye. It was really significant what had just happened, and Jake patted him on the back, wanting to maintain the contact for a moment more, to reassure himself that this wasn’t some anomaly. Maybe he’d needed that hug as much as Tanner had.
Jake glanced at the big headstone, then reached down to pick up the mostly empty bottle of booze, the familiar feel of the cold neck grasped in his fingers a reminder of how many times he’d held an almost empty bottle wrestled from his mother in his hands before herding her into bed to sleep it off. The scent of the whiskey reached his nose, and he looked up and around at the beautiful view, the silent, stoic gravestones, feeling at odds with the serenity, inside him a chaotic mess. Maybe he would bury his mother here, when she passed. Maybe then she would finally be at peace.
Maybe he would be too.
It clenched his heart, and he took a deep breath in, then out, trying to push the resentment and regret away from his body. He didn’t want to feel this way anymore, and he certainly didn’t need to feel it right now.
“Listen. I resented this man my whole damned life. You resent him now. I think that’s enough resentment for an entire lifetime,” Jake blurted as he turned the bottle in his hand and looked back at his brother.
“You gettin’ head-shrinky on me now?” Tanner mumbled, cocking his head. “This snowflake bullshit ain’t gonna—”
“No. Just want to be done. How’s about we let this shit go, right here?” Jake interrupted him impatiently. With a flourish of the bottle, he paced around to the front of the headstone, looking for his father’s name. Tanner followed him, a confused look on his face.
“What’re you doin’?” he mumbled, still not steady on his feet, his voice slurred.
Holding the bottle up, Jake slowly poured out the remainder of the amber liquid on the stone. It splashed over the freshly carved words then flowed along the edge and into the bright green square of new grass where his father’s remains were placed. He waited until the last drop was done and then pierced his brother with a look that hopefully conveyed what he was trying to do.
Jake wanted to bury that resentment here. Release it so he could move on. He had to; it was holding him hostage, preventing him from truly letting himself be present, no looming deadline of what would happen when he could leave people and a home he had come to truly give a damn about.
No holding back on being with a woman who could very possibly be the one.
“No matter what happened in the past, or what happens now, he was our dad. This place is his legacy, no matter which one of us is on the deed.Nothing changes that. This place is your home. He may have dragged me into this mess to appease his own failure, but—”
Jake stopped as Tanner went wide-eyed and then looked away.Yep. This was getting emotionally uncomfortable, but it needed to be said. He needed to have Tanner understand what it meant for him to have been brought here, the change that was happening in him.
“And I’m glad for it, because I found a family that—even if some of them are assholes—cares about each other.”
Tanner snorted a chuckle and leaned his shoulder on the smooth stone obelisk, leveling one of his patentedyou’re an idiotlooks at him.
“I’ve never truly had that before,” Jake added, which wiped the look right off Tanner’s face as quickly as it had appeared.
Jake waited for the smartass quip, but none came. It was tacit approval of what he’d said, so Jake clenched his jaw and set the bottle down beside the wet patch of ground, like a symbol of finality, leaving it here to make a point that it was done.
“I’ll go wait at the truck. You say your piece and meet me there, if you can walk a straight line.”
“Don’t need to. You said it,” Tanner said, and started weaving his way down the hill toward the truck.
Jake fell into step with him. As he did, Tanner put his arm up and around Jake’s shoulders.
“You’re a good man, Jake,” he slurred quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Jake couldn’t respond, the heaviness of what he’d done balancing out the weight of the bond he’d just forged with his brother, making him feel oddly centered yet newly burdened. So he put his arm up over Tanner’s shoulders as well, and they walked down to the truck together.
Chapter Thirty-one
Peony strode into the living room with a cup of steaming coffee and handed it silently to Tanner, who was slumped over on the couch. He took it wordlessly and held it in his hands, turning it slowly. Liz crossed her arms, tapping her foot and glaring at him, waiting for an explanation she wasn’t sure she was going to get, just yet.
Jake and Brady were on the other side of the room near the entryway. Jake’s arms were crossed as well, and he looked as angry and tense as she was, his jaw tight, his eyes snapping.
