Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TRIPP
TWO WEEKS LATER
N ever did I think that I would be dressed in another black suit so soon.
Difference was, this time, it was someone on our side.
I would be lying if I said it's been all rainbows and sunshine since I have been home from hospital; it's been hell.
But I won't give up.
“Ready?” Dixie's soft voice pulls me from my thoughts, her hand resting on my shoulder. Looking up at her, I smile. She is so beautiful. Wrapping my fingers around her delicate wrist, I lower my lips and kiss softly over her pulse point.
Mom and dad are waiting outside for me, Pacey is up and about, slowly, but he is up. I cast my eyes to my crutches, but I know it's going to be a long day, I don't know if I have it in me to be on my feet all day.
Sighing, I push the brake off my wheelchair and Dixie begins pushing me until we're at the edge of the porch. Riggs and Hudson lift me down and I hate it.
I try to hide my shame, but I can't.
She catches me.
She always does.
She gives me a sad smile and I hate it. Hate seeing her sad. Especially over me.
Mom hands Lainey to Dixie, and she holds her close as Conrad begins to push me towards the truck.
“You doing okay?” He asks me softly, and I shrug my shoulder up.
“Been better,” I huff as Riggs pulls me from my chair and I stand and hobble myself to the truck, but before I can even try and get myself in, Riggs is lifting me in.
“There we go,” he half smiles and I hide my face from him. My throat burns as I try and swallow down the thickness, try and blink the tears away before anyone sees them.
Dixie slides in next to me before putting Lainey into her car chair and buckling her in.
Her hand rests on my thigh, and I turn away from her, looking out the window as Riggs puts my chair into the bed of the truck.
Dad and Mom ride with us. Pacey rides with Riggs, Aspen and Austin. Blue and Buck follow in their own trucks and I am already dreading the next few hours.
None of us were ready for this day.
How could we be?
We were burying one of our own.
I am overcome with emotion, and it doesn't matter how much I try and stop it from seeping from me, I can't.
Dixie peeks at me under the rim of my cowboy hat, before her hand is buried inside of mine. And as we begin to drive, I choke on silent sobs.
Suddenly, everything has got a little heavier.
The skies are gray, clouds thick and full of the tears of God. We all wait outside, all dressed in black as we wait for the horse and carriage to arrive with Harlow's casket.
Austin stands at the front of the church along with Joy and James, and Harlow's kid brother Harrison.
His head is bowed, his shoulders shaking softly as he cries and fuck, he breaks my damn heart.
The sound of hooves has us all looking to the left as two beautiful Friesians trot softly across the gravel of the church parking lot, Harlow's wicker casket tied to the back. Aspen's sobs echo as Riggs holds her tightly, letting her tears soak his shirt. A lot of her pain will be masked with guilt. They lost so much time together.
Austin begins walking down with Harrison and James, Riggs pushes Aspen into Pacey's arms as Conrad and my dad step forward ready to carry Harlow into her final journey.
Tears stream down Austin's face and all I want to do is wrap him in my arms and hold him tightly.
Joy drops her head, shaking it from side to side as if in utter disbelief that this day is here. The day that she is burying her little girl.
Harlow was well loved throughout our small town and to see the crowds standing here waiting to say their goodbyes is something to feel proud of.
Sunny stands next to Aspen, her head ducking every now and again to make sure she is okay.
The carriage drivers slide her casket off slowly and into the hands of the pallbearers.
They all listen as the undertakers tell them what to do, and on the count of three, she is lifted onto their shoulders.
And that's when Joy loses it, falling down to her knees and my mom rushes over to her, trying with all of her might to pull her to her feet. Dixie slips her hand from mine as she moves quickly over to Joy's side and helps my mom lift her.
“We've got you,” Dixie says softly as they begin leading her into the church. Joy's screams will haunt me for the rest of my life.
The undertaker begins walking in front of the casket as the boys carry her into the church, and we all follow. I wheel myself, not wanting to take the attention away from the people that need to be comforted. Wheeling myself up the ramp of the church, I puff as I move into where the ceremony will be taking place, mindful not to take anyone out with the leg rest of my chair.
As the casket enters the church, pink skies - Zach Bryan begins to play.
I watch as they place Harlow's casket onto the catafalque and they all step back, apart from James and Austin. Their hands stay resting on the lid, Austin sobs and James wraps his arms around his shoulders.
I swallow down the lump that is swelling as the seconds pass.
Listening to the song, my heart breaks a little more and this song is so fitting for all of us. The way we all grew up together. The best of friends until the very end.
The church is filled with sniffles, quiet sobs and some loud. The pastor clears his throat as he begins the ceremony where we all say goodbye to our friend.
We say goodbye to our Harlow.
Here without you - 3 Doors Down plays as we exit the church, Harlow back on the shoulders of the pallbearers as they lead us to her final resting place. Tucked under a cherry blossom tree just before the creek. We used to hang out around the church as kids, this cherry tree was one of our many climbing adventures.
A smile pulls at my lips as I remember the fond memories, but the fond is soon forgotten as I watch them lower her into the ground and my chest aches.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...” the pastor says as he throws dirt onto her casket and the rest of us throw soft yellow roses into where she lays.
My eyes move to Austin who has his hands fisted into his pockets, eyes red rimmed and swollen as tears freely flow down his cheeks.
He is the last to throw his rose, and once he does, he shakes his head from side to side before turning on his heel and walking away.
Me, Riggs and Pacey all exchange looks but Riggs shakes his head softly, and we know not to follow. He needs his space. He needs some time. He has just put the love of his life to rest, where she'll find peace whilst he lives in eternal hell until the day they meet again.
We're the last to leave, and when we do, the drive is silent and slow.
No one is quite ready to say goodbye, but we had to.
She'll live on through the wind in the trees, the sound of the birds chirping, the wildflowers blooming in the fields... she will live on among us, reminding us when needed that she is with us.
Always.
The wake is at our ranch. Joy offered but mom thought it was only right that we hosted. I sit in the corner, just watching as the range of emotions take over every single person. Sadness, happiness, joy, anger, laughter and grief. Pain stricken grief. Dixie appears with the baby monitor clasped in her hand as she seeks me out.
“Hey you,” she smiles, leaning down and kissing me on the cheek, her scent surrounding me.
“Hey,” I smile back at her, her hand is on my shoulder and I cover it with mine.
“Has Austin returned yet?” she asks, her blue eyes scanning the room.
“Nope,” I sigh, and I didn't want to admit it out loud, but I was beginning to worry.
And just as I sent my prayer up to let him return safe, Hudson bursts through the front door. Riggs storms over to him, a thunderous scowl on his face.
“Sorry to barge in Riggs.” He glares around the room before his attention is back on Riggs. I wheel myself over, Pacey hobbling to stand behind Riggs too. “Austin has turned himself in.”
“What?!” Riggs' gruff voice booms around the room. Buck is up and raging like a bull as he storms across the floor towards where Hudson stands.
My dad is close behind, grabbing Buck and holding him back. Not that he looks as if he is going to fight anyone, but we can see the emotion that is building behind his eyes. The anger and grief all mixing into one. It’s a dangerous combination.
“Said he has nothing left to fight for.”
“Fuck,” Riggs covers his mouth with his hand as he rubs his chin.
“Now what?” I ask, looking up at my older brother.
“We're fucked.”
The evening hit a further downward spiral after the news that Austin had turned himself in. The sombre mood just grew and one by one, people left.
Sighing as Riggs fills my glass with whiskey, I give a shallow nod as thanks.
“Fuck,” he sighs, his deep voice vibrating around the room as he falls into the chair in the corner. Aspen is at home with Blue and Buck trying to get in touch with Austin's lawyer, but with him handing himself in, I'm not sure if there is much more they can do.
My dad has been quiet since finding out. I think a lot of that is because of guilt. He wanted to turn himself in, but selfishly I told him not to. Not because I wanted Austin to go down, but because I wanted to find out what actually happened that night.
I know in my heart of hearts that Austin didn't kill Clay. I also know my dad didn't either. He was dazed and roughed around, all it had to take was one slip for him to hit his head. The way Austin and my dad dealt with him wouldn't have caused his death.
Rubbing my finger along my bottom lip, I try and wrack my brain for something to give, for something to click on what may or may not have happened to him.
Pacey lets out some form of grunt, and my eyes slice across to where he is sitting. His face a constant scowl. A rumbling, dark cloud hanging over his usual sunshine and rainbow self.
“You okay?” I ask the stupid question and he returns a raise of his eyebrows. The last time I saw Pacey in this kind of mood was when everything went down with Riggs, Harlow and Aspen.
Harlow .
A pain sears through my beating heart at the loss of her. I know she wasn't always the nicest, but people liked her. Sure, she had a few enemies and some probably wanted to see her downfall but that didn't mean that any of those would have wanted to see her dead.
She didn't deserve that.
No one did.
Not even Clay.
But I would keep that to myself.
“All sunshine and rainbows brother, how about you?” he snarls, lip turning like a rabid dog, and I shake my head from side to side.
This hasn't just changed him; it's changed all of us.
Altering our brain chemistry somehow, throwing it out of balance.
It was weird. Couldn't really explain it.
“Don't be a dick man,” I scoff, shaking my head as I sip on my whiskey and welcome the warmth that the amber liquid gives me.
“Not being a dick at all, just a little sour,” he hisses at me, rolling his eyes.
“Pacey!” Riggs snaps, a little more assertive than he was probably wanting to be.
We hear the huff that passes Pacey's lips and we all sigh.
Silence creeps around us, Conrad sits in the corner, eyes moving between me and my brothers slowly as if trying to read the room.
“We need to go down to the mines,” Riggs finally says, breaking the crackling tension that was growing as the seconds passed.
“What?” and I have no idea why I am questioning him, I know it as much as him that we need to see what's down there before Wallen and the fuck head suits get there.
“How are we going to get down there? Your ranch sits over it...” Conrad says softly, nursing his own whiskey, sipping it.
“Don't you worry about the how son, I grew up here, I've been down that mine a few times,” my dad says loud and proud as he walks into the living room and pours his own whiskey.
“Is there anything down there?” and now I ask because I need to know. I need to know if this an outright suicide mission or whether there is something down there that is worth more than life itself to these suits. If it meant they took the mines and left our ranch and land alone, I would gladly pass it up, but I am terrified that wouldn't be enough for the greedy sons of a bitches.
“There was... once upon a time,” he says with a gruffness to his tone, perching himself on the arm of a chair, both fingers wrapped around the crystal etched glass.
All eyes are on my dad.
“Years and years ago, I'm talking about when I was a youngster, a fourteen carat diamond was found down that mine by my grandpa, Dusty,” my dad shuffles, readjusting himself before taking a sip. “He hid it for years, never told anyone about it. I had no idea just what it was, just knew it was my grandpa's special stone.”
We all stay silent as he continues.
“One day some men came, telling my grandpa it was theirs and that he needed to hand it over. He swore blind that he had no idea what they were on about and he was arrested there on the spot. Times were different back then, you didn't get away with half the shit you youngsters do now...” and he fucking eyeballs all of us. Including Conrad. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “he never came home, my dad—your grandpa—refused to talk about it, and still till this day, we have no idea where he hid the stone. Rumour has it that the Montana Pearl still sits down in those mines, but team after team have been down there, until it was shut off and deemed redundant.”
“What are your thoughts?” Riggs asks, sitting on the edge of his chair, his whiskey swirling in his glass as he softly moves it.
My dad sucks in a breath before puffing his cheeks out.
“There have been many that have looked, many that have failed and lost their lives. My grandpa was very secretive, if it's down there, he would have made sure it stayed hidden unless he wanted you to find it. The land itself would be worthless to the suits if they found the Montana Pearl, but alas, I can promise they'll never find it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
And my dad chuckles, letting his head tip back softly.
“Why do you think my grandpa built this ranch in this location, why do you think Rivera Ranch sits bang in the middle of the X on the sky view map? He wants them to think it's buried here. I can bet you a hundred bucks that he hid it somewhere with no relevance to that mine. Or, I could be completely wrong, and it is just buried deep within the mine somewhere,” my dad shrugs a shoulder up, “but it doesn't matter, because no one is getting down there.”
I raise my brows.
“We're down half an army dad, we can't fight them off.”
“You're right, we can't. But I have plenty of allies that owe me a favor or two that would be happy to step in and help if needed. Trust me son, don't you worry your pretty little head over it,” he stands slowly, hand resting on the small of his back as he straightens himself out. “But don't you four concern yourselves, there is no need. No one is getting to the mines. No one is getting our land. You just focus on the here and now, and that means you and Pacey need to get better.”
I drop my head for a moment.
“Raise your glasses,” my dad orders and I lift my head to look at him before stretching my arm out, holding my glass in the air. “To Harlow,” he chokes, and my chest tightens, “may you always rest in peace our sweet girl.”
“To Harlow,” we all chime, knocking back our whiskeys as my dad slams his glass down on the table with force and walks out the room.
“One more?” Riggs asks as he walks slowly towards the decanter and we all nod one by one, still dressed in our black suits. It didn't seem right getting changed when we were still mourning Harlow.
Looking over my shoulder, I will for Dixie to walk into the room, but I know Lainey was unsettled, no doubt picking up on the mood of the household, and I know that Lainey will always come first.
Before me.
Before anything.
Just how it should be.
“So, I have a date with Sunny,” Conrad interrupts my thoughts and Riggs wolf whistles. “Stop that,” Conrad laughs, rubbing his palm down his thigh.
“Finally managed to get one of the girls from town,” I wiggle my brows, “hopefully that means you stop going after mine,” I wink at him, a smirk tugging at my lips and he flips me off causing me to let out a rumble of a laugh. Riggs smiling from ear to ear before he breaks into his own laughter.
“Well you fuckers took every single girl that came into town, had to get my hands on Sunny before Pacey claimed her,” and Conrad smirks, side eyeing Pacey and he just returns a kind of growling noise.
“Where has my little sunshine Pacey gone?” Conrad leans across and nudges Pacey softly which causes him to push up with force and hiss as pain sears through him. Riggs is up, grabbing our kid brother and letting him use him as a support.
“You okay?” I ask, and there is a sense of worry coating my tone.
Pacey's eyes are squeezed shut as he clings onto Riggs like he is his life raft. Knuckles white, fingers digging into Riggs' arms and my chest aches, breath shallow and I wish I could take his pain away. But it's not just a physical pain, it's a mental pain too.
Hate it.
Hate it for all of us.
“It's okay, I’ve got you,” Riggs reassures Pacey, holding him for as long as he needs.
I wish I could help. But I am useless. Trying to get up without help is impossible, so now I’m stuck, watching like an outsider as my younger brother sobs in the arms of my other brother.
My heart is breaking.
Conrad shuffles in his seat, guilt written across his face at making Pacey react and rush up, but it was only banter. It wasn't meant in a malicious way. Pacey would have once just flipped him off, laughed and then shrugged him off. But not now.
It's like the light side of Pacey has been completely eclipsed by a darker side, a side that he has been buried away and only now it's raising its ugly head to claim any ounce of light that was left in Pacey's soul.
Squeezing my own eyes shut as I try and block out the sounds of Pacey's pained sobs, I hear the sound of footsteps hitting down the hallway and my dad is in the room, slipping his arms under Pacey and pulling him off of Riggs softly. Riggs tilts his head, as if he is trying to get his own emotions in check and that's when we see the blood on Riggs' white shirt. Our eyes skate across to Pacey whose shirt is saturated.
“Get him to the truck,” Riggs barks and Conrad is up and off the sofa before lifting Pacey like a little child, carrying him out the room when my dad and Riggs follow, and I hate that I can't go and follow. Hate that I am now left here alone with my thoughts, and like most nights, flashbacks roll of the day of Clay's funeral and how everything went down, but it all happens in slow motion. The sound of Harlow's screams, Pacey crying and the constant echoes of shooting guns.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump before looking behind me and seeing her dressed in her pretty white night dress.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”
“It's okay,” I whisper, letting my eyes shut for just a moment as I try and calm my racing heart. My hand reaches over hers, clasping tightly and I realise that I never want to let her go.
Not just tonight.
Forever.
“Where's everyone gone? I heard the front door slam,” she slips her hand from under mine and I miss her instantly. She walks slowly towards the decanter filled with whiskey and I let out a heavy sigh.
“Pacey stood too quickly, think he may have busted his stitches. He was bleeding, they’ve taken him to get checked out,” my lips roll and my brows pinch.
“Oh no,” worry wraps around her whispers as her beautiful blues are on me.
“Hate all of this,” I admit and let my head drop for a second.
“I know,” she hums, and I hear the sound of whiskey pouring, making me lift my head as I study her. Long wavy brown hair falling forward, button nose, full lips, crystal blue eyes that penetrate into my soul with each gaze that meets mine.
“Fuck,” I rasp, swallowing down my words. I feel like a nervous teen again, as if I am seeing her for the first time.
“What?” and I don't miss the panic that laces her voice as she stands, her small hand moving as her delicate fingers tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“You're so fucking beautiful.”
And I am winded when her cheeks turn a pretty pink, eyes casting down and lashes fanning out as if she is embarrassed by what I said.
“Don't ever shy away from me,” my hand lifts, fingers brushing along the inside of her arm.
Placing the decanter back on the table, she stands in front of me, glass resting on her bottom lip as she takes a sip of the burning amber teasingly slow.
And I am jealous.
Jealous of a glass. Jealous of whiskey. Jealous of anything that gets to be on her lips, her tongue, down her throat.
Fuck .
I feel my cock stir in my pants, my stomach knotting with want and a need to have her. She was a craving that I so desperately needed.
An addiction.
Her hazy eyes cross with mine, her chest rising and falling a little faster than before as she drains the rest of her glass. She turns her back to me, and my eyes roam down her back and land on the hem of her cotton nightie, sitting mid-thigh against her sun-kissed skin and I am desperate to run my fingertips under it, to feel her skin beneath them, to claim every inch of her as mine, tarnishing her with that word. Mine .
I watch her like I am a predator stalking his prey. Watching her every move until I can pounce. She leans slowly, reaching for the decanter giving me a tiny view as to what sits underneath. My finger runs across my bottom lip as I fantasise. Swallowing, my mouth suddenly dry as she fills her glass to the rim before she spins, hungry eyes pinned to me.
“Thirsty?” I ask as she lifts the glass to her lips and takes a large mouthful, swallowing it down and I am jealous of the silky liquid slipping down her throat, my eyes watching as her throat bobs.
She nods, pulling the glass away and licking her upper lip.
My lips twitch as I take my own mouthful and I watch as her eyes skate down to my chest, my stomach, my groin and her cheeks burn flaming red.
“What's the matter Dreamcatcher? Seen something you like?”
And I know I am teasing her, but my cock is evidently hard in my pants.
Her eyes are back on mine as she takes another mouthful of her drink.
“Do you know how desperate I am to stand in front of you, to wrap my arm around your back and pull you close?” I whisper.
She says nothing, just listens to me.
“How desperate I am to dust my lips up the column of your throat, to drag them across your collarbone and scatter butterfly kisses against your perfect skin?”
I swallow.
My throat suddenly dry.
“Do you know just how fucking desperate I am Dixie?” my voice is tight.
She shakes her head from side to side, her silky brown hair moving as she does.
Curling my finger, I call her over waiting for her to refuse, but she doesn't, she walks herself over to me, decanter of whisky loose in one hand, fingers pinched around the rim of the glass with the other. Her steps towards me are slow, lazy maybe but she looks hot as sin. My head tips back as I look up at her, and I lose myself in her eyes, her smile, her dimples... everything about her I lose myself in.
She leans forward, placing the decanter on the round side table next to me, her fingertips brushing against my chest as she slowly stands up, teasing me.
My eyes don't leave hers as we start a game of stare off.
Lifting my glass, I drain the remainder of my drink and let my glass hang off my knee. I watch as the minx smirks at me, tilting her head to the side as she brings her knee up, resting it between my legs, but she’s mindful not to touch my cast. I feel like a King about to be worshipped as I sit in the armchair, my leg resting on the footstool on top of a pillow.
“Head back, mouth open,” she whispers, breathing a little heavier and the smell of whisky surrounds me, consuming me as it mixes with her heavenly scent.
I do as she says, tilting my head back and all the time not lifting my hands to touch her. Even though I am desperate too.
But I want to see who breaks first in this little game of teasing we have going on. Hands still either side of me, glass still empty.
Opening my mouth, my eyes are burning into hers as she lifts the decanter and hovers it over my mouth, slowly pouring it past my lips and onto my tongue, my tastebuds exploding and before I can even swallow, her hand is on my cheek, tilting my head forward just as she locks her lips with mine, swirling the amber liquid between us as our kiss deepens, our tongues swirling, mixing our want and whiskey together. The perfect whiskey kiss .
She pulls away just as I swallow it down and a guttural groan vibrates through me.
Heart pounding.
Blood pumping.
Her whiskey laced eyes burning deep into my soul. Wild. So fucking wild.
“Kiss me again,” I rasp, the burn of the whiskey still coats my throat. Placing her glass and decanter on the table next to me, her lips pull into a smirk as her sole focus is back on me.
Her smile widens, and this time she leans down and straddles me, legs either side of my lap.
“Darlin,” my voice is low and raspy, her eyes locked with mine, her hands are on my face. “What are you doing to me?” I whisper.
“Loving you Tripp,” she leans into me, her kiss soft as my hands curl around her hips, fingers digging into the soft cotton material that clings to her body.
She breaks away for just a moment and my eyes volley back and forth, waiting for her to falter, but she doesn't. Her lips curling into a smile before they're back on mine as she kisses me like it's the last kiss she'll ever give.
And this time, we don't hold back. We don't tease. We don't play.
We're all in.