Page 85 of Fourth Wheel
With calling hours and the funeral just a few days away, I’m expecting the first out-of-towners to arrive tomorrow. Soon, Field and I will have to suit up and turn on the charm, having the same conversations over and over again. I’m already exhausted.
Fielding has taken most of the calls from our dad, which I’m equally surprised by and grateful for. George won’t come into town until Tuesday, and he booked a hotel in Cleveland, so we don’t have to worry about seeing him at the house.
Just a few more days, then we’ll be able to move forward. Just a few more days until everything hard and complicated is forgotten, our saddest and lowest memories buried alongside her.
I cut through the living room and head to the kitchen to make lunch, only to stumble upon my brother lounging across one of the couches.
He’s staring at his phone, earbuds in place, cackling.
I pluck one AirPod out of his ear, and he reacts instantly, swatting at me and pulling me down onto the couch beside him.
“Why are you laughing like a hyena?” I demand, shoving him in the side for pulling me off my feet.
“Just one of your girlfriend’s daily videos,” he mutters under his breath before hitting play, turning up the volume, and handing me the phone. “Did she send you this one yet?” He hits restart, and a toddler with a beer bottle fills the screen, babbling about overdue rent.
I stare at the device, perplexed, when Will Ferrell opens the door.
“You said this was one of herdailyvideos?” I confirm.
“Yeah, bro. She’s been sending them to me all week.” He cackles in my ear when the toddler starts screaming about money, so I hand him back his phone and rise to my feet.
I can’t fight back the grin that’s taken over my whole damn face.
Maddie has sent me plenty of texts, mostly sweet, with the occasional flirtatious message thrown in the mix. She’s also sent me a number of selfies, each one immediately saved to my camera roll. All I have to do is tell her I miss her, and she sends a picture and says she misses me, too. But she hasn’t sent me any funny videos; that’s not our thing. That’s not what cheers me up. That’s not what comforts me or distracts me in times like these.
Immature humor ishisthing. I’m once again stunned but delighted that she never forgets about him—she sees him, she knows him, and she cares for him, too.
Fielding and I are going to be okay. We’re both going to get through these next few days. I’ll make sure of it. And apparently, she will, too.
Chapter 44
Maddie
I’veneverbeenmoregrateful to see Jake in my life. I get out of the car in the church parking lot at the same time he emerges from a black Tesla.
Huh. So much for being a Jeeper for life.
“Hey,” he greets me softly as he walks over. “How’s he doing?” he asks, which just puts our distance over the last ten days into context.
Sure, I’ve talked to Dempsey every day since his mom died. Fielding, too. But I haven’t seen him in person, and I don’t feel like I really know how he’s doing or what he needs right now.
“I think they’re both doing the best they can, given the circumstances,” I answer as he wraps his arms around me for a hug. “Is Cory coming, too?” I ask as we break apart and he places one hand on the small of my back to guide me into the church.
Cory is Jake’s husband, and unless one of them is working, it’s rare to see one without the other.
Jake shakes his head solemnly. “He offered to hold things down at The Oak this afternoon so all the guys could be here.”
We walk into the church and join the line of people angling to get to the front. I haven’t been to many funerals, and none by myself, but I assume we’re waiting to greet the family and offer our condolences.
I shift from foot to foot as we wait, a ball of nerves over the prospect of seeing Dempsey in person for the first time since we’ve been back from New York. I can see the tops of the boys’ blond heads over the twenty or so people in front of us, but I can’t reallyseeeither of them.
What I do see? The impossibly tall, elegant brunette who strides in from a side aisle and joins the gathering at the front of the church as if she belongs there.
I don’t know if I make a sound of disgust or just stiffen beside him, but within seconds, Jake is scanning the room until he identifies the source of my discomfort.
“Who is that?” he murmurs as he slings an arm around my shoulders.
“That would be Brooke,” I huff under my breath.
