A Beautiful Funeral (The Maddox Brothers #5) - Jamie McGuire Page 0,64

but he remembered Travis’s twins were on each side of him. He kissed Jessica and James on the forehead and then stood, gesturing for Olive to come with him.

“Shep,” Travis began.

“Yes. We’ll take the twins,” he said without hesitation.

“Thanks,” Travis said.

Shepley nodded, helping America herd the kids and fold blankets. After Trenton had left with Jim, Camille, and Olive, Shepley and America followed with their boys, Jessica and James, and Jack and Deana. One by one, our numbers dwindled, and then it was just Travis and me with Stella and our protection detail.

Travis watched the last of his family leave and then rubbed his face with one hand. “Fucking hell, that was awful.” He retreated into the waiting room and sat, leaning back against the cushions of the couch and lacing his fingers behind his neck.

“Well,” Val said, joining him. “The worst of it is over.”

“No, it’s not over,” Travis snapped. “The worst is looking them in the face and telling them I lied … again. Trenton’s definitely going to take a swing, and I’m going to let him do it.”

“I’m hoping they’ll be so happy that they’ll forget what we’ve done. Otherwise, they’ll never speak to us again,” I said.

“Yeah, they will,” Travis said.

I craned my neck at him. “Would you?”

He looked down and frowned. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

FALYN

AS SOON AS WE ARRIVED AT JIM’S, we all showered and changed, and then reconvened back downstairs. My phone had been buzzing for the last hour, but I already knew who it was. Peter Lacy had received his first response from me that morning, telling him if he didn’t stop contacting me, I would file a complaint with the Estes Park Police Department. Somehow, that only entertained him more.

Taylor and Tyler were in a daze, sitting at the dining room table staring at their clasped hands. I put my phone on silent and shoved it in my back pocket. I didn’t want to turn it off in case Travis and Abby or Liis needed anything, but a part of me seriously weighed that against the possibility of Taylor discovering Peter was still trying to contact me. In his current state of mind, I didn’t know how he would react. I definitely didn’t want a scene in front of Alyssa.

Jim was asleep in his bedroom, Alyssa was on watch in the living room, and the kids were upstairs watching a movie, leaving the four of us to grieve alone. I wanted to hold Taylor, to touch him. He was my husband, for God’s sake, but pride kept my hands in my lap. We had been living by my rules since I’d left, rules I felt needed to be followed as a lesson for Taylor to learn. It wasn’t fair to send mixed signals in order to comfort him.

The house was quiet, only the occasional creaking of the walls from the foundation settling. I tried not to think about Alyssa being in the next room, but it was impossible. It was easier to let my mind worry about things I could somewhat control. The coffeepot beeped, and everyone suddenly awakened from their motionless state.

“I’ll get it,” Ellie said, standing. She returned with a tray of mugs and the pot of coffee, setting down each cup and then filling it.

Tyler drank his black, but I knew to search for cream and sugar for Taylor. As I opened each cabinet, I noticed items in strange places, and then I paused, seeing an ice tray next to the spices. I pulled it out, and water sloshed, startling me.

“Oh!” I cried.

Alyssa jogged in. “Everything all right?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

I flung the water from my hands and then wiped the excess on my pants. “I didn’t realize Jim was keeping the ice trays in the cabinet.”

Alyssa wrinkled her nose. “Pardon?”

“Nothing,” I said, refilling the tray and placing it in the freezer.

Alyssa nodded, turning for the living room, but then she paused. “I admit that I asked for this assignment.”

I stared at her. “I’m … not really sure how to respond to that.”

“I’ve been curious about Hollis for a while but especially after you left Taylor.”

My face twisted into disgust. “You’ve been keeping tabs on us?”

She shrugged, unapologetic. “You have my son.”

“My son,” I said. “I’ve raised him. I’ve sat up with him countless nights pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he was sick. I’ve made him breakfast every morning, his birthday cakes every year, and rocked him to sleep every