Page 62 of Wrangling Hearts
“I’ll show you.”
Claire’s hair was a tangle between my fingers while Savannah sat next to me on the edge of her bed, giving instructions like:“Take that piece and bring it to the middle,” “Add more hair to that piece and bring it all to the middle,” “Keep it tight so it stays while she sleeps.”
When I was done, it looked like shit, and I was irritated, but at least it was clean and out of her face. “It’ll do, I guess,” I murmured.
“Practice makes perfect,” she said. “Not the worst I’ve ever seen.” There was a far-off look in her eyes, a sadness and longing that had nothing to do with Charlotte.
“I called Weston,” I said. Her eyes snapped to mine; it was the most alert I’d seen her all day. “He’s tryin’ to get home.”
She swallowed, blinked. “I need to go back to bed.” And with that, she got up and left. Now I wasn’t so sure I should’ve called him.
I got Claire in bed and took off my wet clothes. She didn’t say anything as I climbed in next to her and pulled her body to mine. I knew she wasn’t asleep, but I didn’t push her to talk. She just traced shapes along my chest, her touch featherlight.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice weak. Nothing like the Claire I knew. Emmett’s warning resurfaced in my mind:This might ruin her.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
“You’re never gonna find out,” I replied, and she nuzzled her head into my chest, lacing our fingers together as she drifted off.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table next to her, the screen’s glow illuminating her room. I reached for it, my grip tightening on the phone as I read the message from an unsaved number.
Unknown:Our deepest condolences to you and your family during this difficult time. If there’s anything my family or I cando for you, don’t hesitate to reach out. The offer for Golden Bridle still stands. -PH
I huggedClaire closer to me, glaring at the message. That fucker was preying on her grief. Rage clouded my vision. Disgust twisted my stomach. I deleted the message, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached. Claire couldn’t wake up to that; she needed to focus on herself and her family right now, not someone trying to screw her out of her family’s legacy.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, coming to the realization that there wasn’t any level the Hollises wouldn’t stoop to. They were shameless, relentless, and a lot more determined than I had originally thought.
I’d tell her about the text. Just not now, not when she was hanging on by a thread.
19
Claire
My mother had been dead for a week. A whole week I had existed without her. It felt surreal. It felt ten different kinds of wrong. The days passed in a blur, but the nights dragged. They were full of sleeplessness or nightmares that had me waking up either crying out for Mama or drenched in a cold sweat.
But Beau was there to take care of me every time.
He had been my rock through all of it. Anything that needed to be done, he did it. There wasn’t much to plan for the funeral—Mama had planned the whole thing already—but Beau made it happen.
It wasn’t just the tasks he handled or the way he made sure I ate and bathed, though. It was how he sat beside me in silence, never asking for anything, just letting me fall apart and quietly holding the pieces while also being there for my family when I couldn’t.
Tonight, though, it was just the three of us siblings and Gran. We needed the time alone, especially since Mama’s funeral was tomorrow morning.
Even though it was the end of June, we had a fire going because Mama loved them. The low crackling of sticks burningfilled our living room as we all sat together, telling stories about her. It was bittersweet—the kind that was more bitter.
I knew I was struggling more than my other siblings, not that grief was a competition by any means, but Emmett and Savannah didn’t wake up crying every night. They could eat. They didn’t need help with the simplest tasks. And I wasn’t even sure if Tess knew—or cared.
Savannah said she called and broke the news to her voicemail, and I called a few days later and told her about the funeral. Nothing but crickets. I should have been livid with her, but at this point, it was just an expectation that she wouldn’t answer or engage with us.
Gran was sitting in the rocking chair she always occupied when she came over, crocheting. She didn’t like to have idle hands. “I remember the day your daddy brought Charlotte here to meet me,” she said, smiling down at the pastel yellow yarn—Mama’s favorite color. “Ben said she was nervous, but you’d never know it. She nearly chattered my ear clean off. They were so young and so in love.” A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek. “I know she’s happy to be back with him.”
That was the only thing getting me through this, knowing they were together wherever souls went after they left our bodies. In our last conversation, she told me she couldn’t wait to be with Dad again and that she wasn’t afraid to go because she knew he was there waiting for her.
She died three hours later.
Savannah giggled, nursing a glass of wine on the other end of the couch from me. Pretty sure wine was Savannah’s version of Beau and was the only thing getting her through this. “Remember when she brought a goat to show and tell for you?” she asked, looking over at me.
I let out an amused huff. “Yeah, he shit on the floor and got animals banned from the school premises.”
