Finally, we hit the town square of Jasper, only a handful of blocks away from the hospital. Butterflies slammed into my gut as I directed Brax, and by the time we’d parked and were walking through the lobby it was just after noon. Brax had shortened the drive by thirty minutes.
I’d been to the ICU at Jasper Memorial before when Kyle had needed stitches in his head after getting bucked into the fence. He hadn’t needed a unit bed but apparently it had been the only one available. With Brax’s hand wrapped tightly around mine, I led him down a series of hallways to the waiting room. Mom and Seth leapt to their feet as soon as they saw us.
“Olivia,” Mom said, and gathered me in her arms. Her body felt warm through my brown down puff jacket, and Seth leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Hey, baby.”
“How is he?” I asked. My eyes searched my mom and brothers, and the worry I saw in both made my stomach feel sick.
Mom’s tired eyes sought mine. “He’s tired, sweetie. He’s awake, in his right mind, and made sure we knew his wishes.” A tear fell down her cheek. “His exact words were, Don’t let ’em hook me up to all that techno medical horseshit.” She smiled, but it was the saddest expression I’d ever seen on my mom’s face. “Crazy old fool.”
“They can’t do anything for him?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “Heart’s too far gone. Blockages and damage from here to hell and back.”
My mind raced, and my stomach ached. “Did … they say how long?” The words felt heavy, wrong on my tongue.
She smiled wanly. “Only the Lord knows that, honey.” She inclined her head. “He’s been asking for you.” I noticed her gaze fall behind me, and I turned.
“Oh, Mom, Seth, this is Brax Jenkins. He … drove me.”
Seth’s hand shot out and he shook Brax’s. “Thanks, man. We appreciate it.”
“Glad to do it,” Brax answered Seth. He looked at Mom. “Ma’am.”
Mom gave him a smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Brax.” She pressed her hand against his shoulder. “There’s a snack machine down the hall.”
Brax nodded, and our gazes held for a few seconds before Mom and Seth led me out of the waiting room and down the hall to the locked door leading to the patient rooms. Seth pressed the intercom button, told his name, and the door opened.
“Honey, Jilly looks a little worn around the edges,” Mom said quietly as we walked by several curtained rooms. “Don’t be scared, okay?”
I was already scared, sick, and hated that we were all here. Seth stopped at room 113, and pulled the curtain back. As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, my other two brothers rose from their seats. My gaze fastened on Jilly, lying in the bed. Oxygen tubing in his nostrils. Covers pulled up and folded neatly across his chest, arms straight by his sides. An IV hung beside his bed on a pole and ran into his hand. He looked pale, eyes closed, barely breathing.
“Lil’ Bit,” Kyle said quietly, and he and Jace both enveloped me.
I moved out of their arms, though, and made my way to Jilly’s side, and I slipped my hand into his cool one. Running my thumb over the big veins and callouses, I still couldn’t believe we were here, and he was sick.
“’Bout time you got your little fancy pants college ass here,” Jilly whispered, and my eyes jerked to his. They were open now, a little glassy, and … tired. His weak voice hardly sounded like it belonged to my loud, boisterous grandfather. “You here to bust me out, Lil’ Bit? The food here tastes like horseshit.”
Despite the tears welling up in my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I bet it does.” I gently tugged his hand. “Come on, Jilly. I got the truck running by the emergency room exit.”
Jilly gave a light laugh, but it was weak, barely there. “Just give me a minute. I gotta find my drawers first. Fool nurses took all my goddamned clothes.” He blinked, and I hardly felt the pressure as he squeezed my hand. “Damned ticker ain’t worth a shit either, darlin’. Guess I ate too many pork rinds.”
A sob caught in my throat. “Jilly,” and I leaned over him, rested my head against his chest, and slipped my arms around him. “Stop it.”
Behind me, I heard Mom’s sniffles. Tears fell from my lids onto Jilly’s hospital gown, and somehow my weakened grandfather found the strength to lift his arms and embrace me. “Quit all that cryin’ now, girl. You’re getting my damn dress all soggy.”
I hugged him tighter. “No.”
Jilly gave another weak laugh and let his arms fall to his sides. “Come up here, then. I got somethin’ to tell you. And I ain’t got the strength to talk much anymore.” He sighed, and I lifted my head from his chest. “I’m damned tired as hell.”
For the first time in my entire life, my grandfather looked frail. Like he couldn’t wrangle a horse to the ground. Or drink a man half his age under the table. Or beat anyone’s ass. He looked old. Before my eyes, he was fading, like a gas light running empty. How could this be happening? It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I leaned close, my ear to his mouth.
“I ain’t gonna be around to make sure the man you choose is good enough,” he whispered. “You don’t accept anything less than the one who puts you first, Olivia. Above anything else.”
Through tears I pulled back and looked at Jilly, and his eyes were clear and tired at once. His gray brows furrowed. “You hear me, girl? Nothin’ less than first.”
“Yes, sir,” I choked out. “Brax is here. He drove me from Winston.”
Jilly’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Ya’ll get out. Send him in. Alone.”
Surprise made me pause, blink. But I knew better than to question. “Yes, sir.”
I exchanged glances with my family, then we all headed out to the waiting room. Brax was sitting in a chair, legs sprawled, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced. When we walked in, he looked up, and his gaze found mine. He stood.
“Jilly wants to see you, son,” my mom told Brax. “Alone.”
Brax stiffened, squared his shoulders, and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Just through there, third room on the left,” Mom said.
Brax drew in a long breath, then disappeared out of the waiting room. I sat between Mom and Kyle, and none of us spoke a word. Mom held my hand. Kyle had his arm around me. What in the world could Jilly be saying to Brax? I hoped Brax looked him in the eye. Jilly despised any man who couldn’t look him in the eye.
“So are you two okay now?” Mom asked. “He seems like a decent boy. Dropped everything to bring you here.”
“I don’t know what we are, Mom,” I answered. “But yes, he is a decent boy.” I looked at her. “I don’t want to be here.” Kyle’s arm tightened around me. “None of this is right.”
“I know, baby,” Mom said softly, and rested her hand on my knee. “I know.”
It was a few minutes later when Brax came walking back into the waiting room. His eyes again found mine, his expression unreadable. He took a seat across from me and kept silent. But every time I looked at him, he was looking at me, too. I thought he probably didn’t know how to take all of this in; my family, the hospital. Facing Jilly alone. I was pretty sure he’d never experienced anything like it before.
Throughout the night we took turns sitting with Jilly. Each time I entered his room, he looked weaker, paler, and as I sat beside his bed on my third visit, holding his hand, he squeezed. Barely. It was the last time.
Jilly died at four forty three a.m. I knew this because he had a big clock on the wall that clicked so loud, I could hear each second as distinctive and clear as if someone stood thumping a watermelon. Jilly hadn’t opened his eyes for hours, and I stared at the little hollow dip in his throat where his pulse had slowed. His chest had stopped rising and falling. My mom sat on the other side of the bed and she’d noticed it, too. We all had.
I laid my head against my grandpa’s chest, hugged him and cried.
“Dammit, Jilly,” my brother Jace said from the foot of the bed. I didn’t dare look at him. Or any of my brothers. We all knew how the other felt, and our grief hung in the air like a thick fog. I wanted it to go away. I wanted Jilly back. It was too fast, too soon. I wasn’t ready for this.
The staff allowed us time to mourn and say our goodbyes, and then it was time to leave. We all dragged out into the waiting area, and the moment we stepped into the room, Brax jumped to his feet. His gaze drifted from my mom, to my brothers, to me, and without words, he knew. I could see it in his eyes, and how those strange blue orbs softened. I walked to him, and without even thinking, allowed his embrace.
“I’m sorry, Gracie,” he said against my temple. “Damned sorry.”
My tears fell, and I shook, and Brax’s arms tightened around me. “I am, too,” I said against his chest. He held me that way for a while.
We followed my family home to the ranch, and Brax held my hand in silence the whole way there. The sun was just starting to rise, edging the tree line as we pulled onto our drive. When Brax parked, he left the engine running and stepped out. My mom and brothers walked over to meet us.
“Gracie, I’ll get a room in town,” Brax told me. It was cold out, and his breath puffed white in front of him.
“Nonsense,” Mom said. “You’ll stay here and I won’t hear any more about it.”
Brax looked at me, and I gave him a nod. I was positive he wasn’t sure what to do, but there’d be no arguing with my mom. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“Sadie.” My mom gave him a wan smile.
Brax smiled back. “Sadie.”
Mom, my brothers by her side, left us at the truck and wandered into the house. Brax grasped my hand. “Are you okay with this? Swear to God, I’ll go if you’re not. It wasn’t my intention to make you uneasy.” His nose was turning red from the cold.
“I know that. I’m fine with it,” I answered. My voice sounded hollow. Shallow. Soft. “Thanks. For being here.”
His wraithlike eyes regarded me. “Thanks for letting me.”
We stared in silence for a moment, then Brax reached behind me and grabbed our bags from the bed of the truck. “Ready?”
Suddenly, realization crashed over me, leaving me short of breath, panicky, and I leaned against the truck. “Not really,” I said quietly. A subtle shaking began in my body, and it rapidly grew. Tears welled up, spilled out and fell in frozen little trails down my cheek. Inside the house, everywhere, was my grandfather. How could he be gone? Oh, Jilly …
Brax dropped the bags and pulled me against him. I went easily—a little too easy, maybe—and his warmth, the strength in his arms embraced and comforted me. I cried into Brax’s shoulder, and he stroked my hair and held me close as grief flooded me.
The next two days blurred by. Two older men, a little younger than Jilly, had shown up at the ranch the day after Jilly’s death. Retired Rangers, they’d served with my grandfather and assured Mom his funeral expenses were taken care of. I could literally see the relief wash over her. Meanwhile, chores still needed to be done and horses needed to be cared for, and we all pitched in to get it done. Brax was right there, mucking out stalls and feeding animals, and his rough Boston mannerisms seemed to take a step back as he conformed to life at a ranch. The second he’d finish one chore, he’d ask for another. Yet as busy as we all kept, the pain stayed. Laid heavy on my shoulders—on all of us. Jilly’s presence was everywhere … and nowhere. It was so weird, him being gone. Sometimes I’d look up a little too fast and I’d think he was there, leaning against the horse pen, his booted foot propped on the bottom rail, his hat pushed back and a stream of dirty swear words flooding from his mouth.
Neighbors brought more food than fifty people could eat in a month. Every few hours, another car or truck would slowly make their way up the drive, dropping off casseroles and cakes and homemade bread.
“Is there a food committee or something?” Brax asked.
I looked at him. “The food? No,” I answered, and shrugged. “It’s what we do. It’s death. Birth. Marriage. Divorce.” I smiled. “It’s … Texas.”
I couldn’t sleep, so I sat in the family room by the fireplace, watching Walker, Texas Ranger because Jilly and I had watched every single episode together. Brax watched it with me until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Vaguely, I remembered being carried to my bedroom and tucked in. I woke up thinking it was all a bad dream, and Jilly was in the kitchen scrambling eggs. It wasn’t, and he wasn’t, and sooner or later I’d have to get a damn grip on it.
The services were unlike any I’d ever attended. Jilly’s was a Ranger’s funeral, and Mom was presented a Lone Star flag and a silver Ranger’s star. No less than thirty active and retired Texas Rangers were present, each with a Winchester rifle they shot off in his honor. Jilly would’ve hollered for sure. I couldn’t seem to stop the flow of tears falling, but Brax stood beside me, holding my hand, squeezing it if I wavered even the slightest. Kyle had lent him clothes for the funeral, and he wore black slacks, dress shoes, and a blue shirt that made his eyes nearly glow. It wasn’t a long service, but I thought it would never end. I stared at Jilly’s casket at the graveside service, at the Lone Star flag draped over it, and I still couldn’t believe it. I just wanted the day to be over. Finally, it was.
Thanksgiving Day was a dismal event. But because Jilly wouldn’t have wanted a house full of sour pusses crowding his table, we celebrated just like we normally would have. Only we didn’t dare roast a turkey, or make the first morsel of food. Friends and neighbors took care of that, too, and soon we had to start making room in the freezer for things. Jace blessed our food and dedicated the day to Jilly’s memory. It was a Thanksgiving I’d never forget. It was one I wished I could. Yet beside me, Brax sat. Never out of sight. Always comforting.
I’d been to the ICU at Jasper Memorial before when Kyle had needed stitches in his head after getting bucked into the fence. He hadn’t needed a unit bed but apparently it had been the only one available. With Brax’s hand wrapped tightly around mine, I led him down a series of hallways to the waiting room. Mom and Seth leapt to their feet as soon as they saw us.
“Olivia,” Mom said, and gathered me in her arms. Her body felt warm through my brown down puff jacket, and Seth leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Hey, baby.”
“How is he?” I asked. My eyes searched my mom and brothers, and the worry I saw in both made my stomach feel sick.
Mom’s tired eyes sought mine. “He’s tired, sweetie. He’s awake, in his right mind, and made sure we knew his wishes.” A tear fell down her cheek. “His exact words were, Don’t let ’em hook me up to all that techno medical horseshit.” She smiled, but it was the saddest expression I’d ever seen on my mom’s face. “Crazy old fool.”
“They can’t do anything for him?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “Heart’s too far gone. Blockages and damage from here to hell and back.”
My mind raced, and my stomach ached. “Did … they say how long?” The words felt heavy, wrong on my tongue.
She smiled wanly. “Only the Lord knows that, honey.” She inclined her head. “He’s been asking for you.” I noticed her gaze fall behind me, and I turned.
“Oh, Mom, Seth, this is Brax Jenkins. He … drove me.”
Seth’s hand shot out and he shook Brax’s. “Thanks, man. We appreciate it.”
“Glad to do it,” Brax answered Seth. He looked at Mom. “Ma’am.”
Mom gave him a smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Brax.” She pressed her hand against his shoulder. “There’s a snack machine down the hall.”
Brax nodded, and our gazes held for a few seconds before Mom and Seth led me out of the waiting room and down the hall to the locked door leading to the patient rooms. Seth pressed the intercom button, told his name, and the door opened.
“Honey, Jilly looks a little worn around the edges,” Mom said quietly as we walked by several curtained rooms. “Don’t be scared, okay?”
I was already scared, sick, and hated that we were all here. Seth stopped at room 113, and pulled the curtain back. As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, my other two brothers rose from their seats. My gaze fastened on Jilly, lying in the bed. Oxygen tubing in his nostrils. Covers pulled up and folded neatly across his chest, arms straight by his sides. An IV hung beside his bed on a pole and ran into his hand. He looked pale, eyes closed, barely breathing.
“Lil’ Bit,” Kyle said quietly, and he and Jace both enveloped me.
I moved out of their arms, though, and made my way to Jilly’s side, and I slipped my hand into his cool one. Running my thumb over the big veins and callouses, I still couldn’t believe we were here, and he was sick.
“’Bout time you got your little fancy pants college ass here,” Jilly whispered, and my eyes jerked to his. They were open now, a little glassy, and … tired. His weak voice hardly sounded like it belonged to my loud, boisterous grandfather. “You here to bust me out, Lil’ Bit? The food here tastes like horseshit.”
Despite the tears welling up in my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I bet it does.” I gently tugged his hand. “Come on, Jilly. I got the truck running by the emergency room exit.”
Jilly gave a light laugh, but it was weak, barely there. “Just give me a minute. I gotta find my drawers first. Fool nurses took all my goddamned clothes.” He blinked, and I hardly felt the pressure as he squeezed my hand. “Damned ticker ain’t worth a shit either, darlin’. Guess I ate too many pork rinds.”
A sob caught in my throat. “Jilly,” and I leaned over him, rested my head against his chest, and slipped my arms around him. “Stop it.”
Behind me, I heard Mom’s sniffles. Tears fell from my lids onto Jilly’s hospital gown, and somehow my weakened grandfather found the strength to lift his arms and embrace me. “Quit all that cryin’ now, girl. You’re getting my damn dress all soggy.”
I hugged him tighter. “No.”
Jilly gave another weak laugh and let his arms fall to his sides. “Come up here, then. I got somethin’ to tell you. And I ain’t got the strength to talk much anymore.” He sighed, and I lifted my head from his chest. “I’m damned tired as hell.”
For the first time in my entire life, my grandfather looked frail. Like he couldn’t wrangle a horse to the ground. Or drink a man half his age under the table. Or beat anyone’s ass. He looked old. Before my eyes, he was fading, like a gas light running empty. How could this be happening? It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I leaned close, my ear to his mouth.
“I ain’t gonna be around to make sure the man you choose is good enough,” he whispered. “You don’t accept anything less than the one who puts you first, Olivia. Above anything else.”
Through tears I pulled back and looked at Jilly, and his eyes were clear and tired at once. His gray brows furrowed. “You hear me, girl? Nothin’ less than first.”
“Yes, sir,” I choked out. “Brax is here. He drove me from Winston.”
Jilly’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Ya’ll get out. Send him in. Alone.”
Surprise made me pause, blink. But I knew better than to question. “Yes, sir.”
I exchanged glances with my family, then we all headed out to the waiting room. Brax was sitting in a chair, legs sprawled, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced. When we walked in, he looked up, and his gaze found mine. He stood.
“Jilly wants to see you, son,” my mom told Brax. “Alone.”
Brax stiffened, squared his shoulders, and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Just through there, third room on the left,” Mom said.
Brax drew in a long breath, then disappeared out of the waiting room. I sat between Mom and Kyle, and none of us spoke a word. Mom held my hand. Kyle had his arm around me. What in the world could Jilly be saying to Brax? I hoped Brax looked him in the eye. Jilly despised any man who couldn’t look him in the eye.
“So are you two okay now?” Mom asked. “He seems like a decent boy. Dropped everything to bring you here.”
“I don’t know what we are, Mom,” I answered. “But yes, he is a decent boy.” I looked at her. “I don’t want to be here.” Kyle’s arm tightened around me. “None of this is right.”
“I know, baby,” Mom said softly, and rested her hand on my knee. “I know.”
It was a few minutes later when Brax came walking back into the waiting room. His eyes again found mine, his expression unreadable. He took a seat across from me and kept silent. But every time I looked at him, he was looking at me, too. I thought he probably didn’t know how to take all of this in; my family, the hospital. Facing Jilly alone. I was pretty sure he’d never experienced anything like it before.
Throughout the night we took turns sitting with Jilly. Each time I entered his room, he looked weaker, paler, and as I sat beside his bed on my third visit, holding his hand, he squeezed. Barely. It was the last time.
Jilly died at four forty three a.m. I knew this because he had a big clock on the wall that clicked so loud, I could hear each second as distinctive and clear as if someone stood thumping a watermelon. Jilly hadn’t opened his eyes for hours, and I stared at the little hollow dip in his throat where his pulse had slowed. His chest had stopped rising and falling. My mom sat on the other side of the bed and she’d noticed it, too. We all had.
I laid my head against my grandpa’s chest, hugged him and cried.
“Dammit, Jilly,” my brother Jace said from the foot of the bed. I didn’t dare look at him. Or any of my brothers. We all knew how the other felt, and our grief hung in the air like a thick fog. I wanted it to go away. I wanted Jilly back. It was too fast, too soon. I wasn’t ready for this.
The staff allowed us time to mourn and say our goodbyes, and then it was time to leave. We all dragged out into the waiting area, and the moment we stepped into the room, Brax jumped to his feet. His gaze drifted from my mom, to my brothers, to me, and without words, he knew. I could see it in his eyes, and how those strange blue orbs softened. I walked to him, and without even thinking, allowed his embrace.
“I’m sorry, Gracie,” he said against my temple. “Damned sorry.”
My tears fell, and I shook, and Brax’s arms tightened around me. “I am, too,” I said against his chest. He held me that way for a while.
We followed my family home to the ranch, and Brax held my hand in silence the whole way there. The sun was just starting to rise, edging the tree line as we pulled onto our drive. When Brax parked, he left the engine running and stepped out. My mom and brothers walked over to meet us.
“Gracie, I’ll get a room in town,” Brax told me. It was cold out, and his breath puffed white in front of him.
“Nonsense,” Mom said. “You’ll stay here and I won’t hear any more about it.”
Brax looked at me, and I gave him a nod. I was positive he wasn’t sure what to do, but there’d be no arguing with my mom. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“Sadie.” My mom gave him a wan smile.
Brax smiled back. “Sadie.”
Mom, my brothers by her side, left us at the truck and wandered into the house. Brax grasped my hand. “Are you okay with this? Swear to God, I’ll go if you’re not. It wasn’t my intention to make you uneasy.” His nose was turning red from the cold.
“I know that. I’m fine with it,” I answered. My voice sounded hollow. Shallow. Soft. “Thanks. For being here.”
His wraithlike eyes regarded me. “Thanks for letting me.”
We stared in silence for a moment, then Brax reached behind me and grabbed our bags from the bed of the truck. “Ready?”
Suddenly, realization crashed over me, leaving me short of breath, panicky, and I leaned against the truck. “Not really,” I said quietly. A subtle shaking began in my body, and it rapidly grew. Tears welled up, spilled out and fell in frozen little trails down my cheek. Inside the house, everywhere, was my grandfather. How could he be gone? Oh, Jilly …
Brax dropped the bags and pulled me against him. I went easily—a little too easy, maybe—and his warmth, the strength in his arms embraced and comforted me. I cried into Brax’s shoulder, and he stroked my hair and held me close as grief flooded me.
The next two days blurred by. Two older men, a little younger than Jilly, had shown up at the ranch the day after Jilly’s death. Retired Rangers, they’d served with my grandfather and assured Mom his funeral expenses were taken care of. I could literally see the relief wash over her. Meanwhile, chores still needed to be done and horses needed to be cared for, and we all pitched in to get it done. Brax was right there, mucking out stalls and feeding animals, and his rough Boston mannerisms seemed to take a step back as he conformed to life at a ranch. The second he’d finish one chore, he’d ask for another. Yet as busy as we all kept, the pain stayed. Laid heavy on my shoulders—on all of us. Jilly’s presence was everywhere … and nowhere. It was so weird, him being gone. Sometimes I’d look up a little too fast and I’d think he was there, leaning against the horse pen, his booted foot propped on the bottom rail, his hat pushed back and a stream of dirty swear words flooding from his mouth.
Neighbors brought more food than fifty people could eat in a month. Every few hours, another car or truck would slowly make their way up the drive, dropping off casseroles and cakes and homemade bread.
“Is there a food committee or something?” Brax asked.
I looked at him. “The food? No,” I answered, and shrugged. “It’s what we do. It’s death. Birth. Marriage. Divorce.” I smiled. “It’s … Texas.”
I couldn’t sleep, so I sat in the family room by the fireplace, watching Walker, Texas Ranger because Jilly and I had watched every single episode together. Brax watched it with me until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Vaguely, I remembered being carried to my bedroom and tucked in. I woke up thinking it was all a bad dream, and Jilly was in the kitchen scrambling eggs. It wasn’t, and he wasn’t, and sooner or later I’d have to get a damn grip on it.
The services were unlike any I’d ever attended. Jilly’s was a Ranger’s funeral, and Mom was presented a Lone Star flag and a silver Ranger’s star. No less than thirty active and retired Texas Rangers were present, each with a Winchester rifle they shot off in his honor. Jilly would’ve hollered for sure. I couldn’t seem to stop the flow of tears falling, but Brax stood beside me, holding my hand, squeezing it if I wavered even the slightest. Kyle had lent him clothes for the funeral, and he wore black slacks, dress shoes, and a blue shirt that made his eyes nearly glow. It wasn’t a long service, but I thought it would never end. I stared at Jilly’s casket at the graveside service, at the Lone Star flag draped over it, and I still couldn’t believe it. I just wanted the day to be over. Finally, it was.
Thanksgiving Day was a dismal event. But because Jilly wouldn’t have wanted a house full of sour pusses crowding his table, we celebrated just like we normally would have. Only we didn’t dare roast a turkey, or make the first morsel of food. Friends and neighbors took care of that, too, and soon we had to start making room in the freezer for things. Jace blessed our food and dedicated the day to Jilly’s memory. It was a Thanksgiving I’d never forget. It was one I wished I could. Yet beside me, Brax sat. Never out of sight. Always comforting.
