A Beautiful Funeral (The Maddox Brothers #5) - Jamie McGuire Page 0,73

and your job, even if you couldn’t tell us everything. I don’t know why this happened to you, the most careful of us, the surest of his footing, the most prepared. You were the strongest. But thinking about you finally able to hug your mom’s neck again gives me comfort in a way I can’t describe. I know her death was hardest on you, not because of the burden you embraced, but because out of all the boys, you’d loved your mother the longest. You never let that get in the way of what she’d asked you to do, though, to take care of your brothers. You never let her down, not even now. I would give anything to take your place so you can be here with your wife and raise your daughter because I know you’d be a damn good father, just as you were a good son. I’m going to miss you as much as I’ve missed your mother, and I know just how much that’s going to hurt.

“Thank you for keeping our family together and safe until the end, and thank you for ignoring everything and everyone else—even yourself—to do what was right. I knew you long enough to know you don’t make a decision without good reason, and this is no different. I’ve adored you since your first breath. You were a good boy, and a fine man, and this family will rise up again to be our very best in your honor.”

Jack pressed his lips together and then folded the paper, tucking it into his jacket pocket. He took off his glasses, and Shepley walked him across the stage as the tune of one of Thomas’s favorite songs began humming through the speakers.

Jack sat next to his brother, and they comforted each other while the music played. Even Abby and Travis were crying. Abby hugged Liis, while Travis rocked Stella, touching his cheek to her forehead, tears dripping from the tip of his nose. I intertwined my fingers with my husband’s trembling hand, squeezing hard. He wiped his cheeks, sucking in a breath between quiet sobs. As I scanned the faces of our family, we looked so broken, so lost. My breath faltered, watching a local pastor take the stage. He would attempt to offer comfort and pray for our loss, but nothing would take away the pain. Not even God. I looked at Trenton, watching him let his tough-guy persona fall away in front of a huge crowd without a second thought. It was heartbreaking to watch men fall apart—men who could face anything else without flinching. Now, pain flooded in with their every breath, and I sat in the midst of Thomas’s brothers, wishing I could take their pain away, wishing mine would somehow disappear. It was too much to process. The music only made it hurt worse, so I decided to feel nothing, the way I did when I was little and my father was hitting my mother.

Several cars were parked in the drive, spilling out down both sides of the street in front of Jim Maddox’s home, just as I’d pictured. As the news of Thomas’s death spread, more people would arrive, bringing casseroles and sweet memories.

I swallowed, bracing myself for condolences. Jim was the father who would bury his first-born. Liis was the widow. I was the sister-in-law and the ex-girlfriend. I felt like my grief ran deeper than Falyn’s or Abby’s, and that spawned guilt. My stomach sank, and my nose burned. There was nothing I wanted to do less than walk into the house and play the part of supporting wife and sister-in-law and ignore that Thomas was also my first love, that we had shared a bed more than once, and we had almost moved in together. He had loved me, and I would have to pretend none of that existed out of respect for his wife and my husband.

Trenton squeezed my hand. “I know,” he said simply. With two words, he set my mind at ease, expressing both understanding and unconditional love. He’d forgiven me the night before for my lies and omissions. It wasn’t okay, he pointed out, but it was understandable, and he loved me anyway.

A black sea of friends and extended family milled about the house, trudging over the carpet Diane had chosen, through the rooms Thomas had once played in, and where they were once a complete family that death hadn't touched. This was why Diane had made Jim walk away