Chapter 2

"You're late," Coy said under his breath as his younger brother, Nash, scooted by him in a long row of chairs and sat beside him.

"Good to see you too, big brother," Nash fired back as he ran his hands through his tousled hair. "What's it been? Five… ten years?"

"Keeping track, huh? You miss me?" Coy chuckled.

"Not even a little bit."

"You smell like stale booze. Seems your priorities are in the right place," Coy accused. "Good to know some things don't change."

"Hence the not even a little bit," Nash said, looking ahead at their brother, Cutler, who stood behind a black casket as he gave their mother's eulogy and glared at his brothers who were causing a scene.

"You two knock it off," Devyn, the youngest Stone sister, scolded. "You're embarrassing all of us, and Mama would be ashamed of you."

"He's late to his own mother's funeral because he's been drinking," Coy defended. "That's embarrassing."

"What can I say? I'm grieving."

"Yeah, grieving the bottle you polished off," Coy teased.

"Well, I'm here now."

Coy patted his brother's shoulder. "Bravo, little brother."

"I'd never show up late on purpose. My phone died and so did my watch, didn't have a charger and lost track of time. You, on the other hand, big brother, just never show up."

"Wow. Someone's a big boy now, taking on the other big boys. Maybe you have grown a bit," Coy continued.

"Yeah, grown enough to whoop your ass as soon as we're done here. Maybe you should've drank a little too, Coy. You need to loosen up."

"I prefer responsible and sober, kid. But you do what feels right. I'm sure Mama knows you loved her in your own special, albeit late, way."

"You son of a bitch," Nash whispered. "You're lucky that?—"

Their sister, Dillon, leaned across Devyn to address both of them and whispered, "You're both lucky that we're in the middle of a funeral. Our Mama's funeral, I might add, or I'd whoop both y'all just to shut you up. Show some damn respect."

"Yes, ma'am." Nash knew full well that his sister didn't mince words or make promises she didn't intend to keep and promptly shut up.

"I swear, just because you two were raised on a farm doesn't mean you two need to act like animals," Devyn, the youngest Stone sibling said, gritting her teeth.

"Ditto that," Dillon added.

"Excuse me? Dill, you showed up with… with… an entourage. Are you kidding me?" Devyn went on, lambasting her sister, too. "And you better make good on that promise and deal with both these boys when we're done here."

"Entourage? They're the Secret Service. I can't go anywhere without them. My husband is the President and since he's here, there's more of them here than usual. Can't exactly shake them. Ransom loved Mama and wouldn't miss paying his respects for the world, Secret Service detail or not. And I promise to deal with these two properly once we get home. It's been a while since I had a round with these two brothers."

"Mama just passed and you want to fight?" Nash asked, perplexed.

"We all grieve in our own ways, baby brother. You like booze, I like to fight." She grinned and offered a wink. "You both have it comin'."

"Both?" Coy questioned. "What did I do?"

"You started it," Nash whispered.

"You showed up drunk to Mama's funeral," Coy fired back.

"I'm not drunk, asshole." Nash straightened as he saw their older brother, Cutler, headed straight for them after opening the floor to guests who'd like to speak about the late Delilah Stone. "Maybe a little hung over, but definitely not drunk."

"Here comes Cut. You're in for it now." Coy grinned.

"How do you know he ain't comin' after your ass? He expects me to show up late and maybe a bit disheveled. But you…"

"What about me?" Coy quickly turned to his younger brother. "What? What can you possibly say about me right now?"

"You stopped comin' home altogether."

Nash's words stung and nobody said a thing. They were finally quiet, because they knew how deep Nash's words cut. The Stone family was a tight group –– until they weren't. They had each other's backs through thick and thin and everyone wanted what they had. Not the tangible things, but the family ties. They were highly respected in their community and had deep roots in Coyote Creek, Texas. Anyone who knew them loved them and wanted to be them. Except maybe the Stones themselves.

They'd fallen distant, not nearly as close as they once were despite how deep the love for one another flowed. Life handed them a new set of cards to play as unexpected events for their hands. Each of them had something that haunted them and drove a wedge, especially Coy, given the tremendous loss he'd endured and the guilt that accompanied such.

"I… work. My job takes me all over the world and… it's been hard to come home," Coy defended, not willing to admit his brother was correct. He hadn't been home much at all. Practically a stranger to his niece and nephews and a distant memory to his siblings. But he stayed away… for them.

"Don't we all." Nash shook his head. "Some of us never even left home because… work."

Nash was referring to himself, but more so their oldest sibling and brother, Cutler. Cut for short, had big aspirations to play professional football. He'd landed the college scholarship and already had pro teams watching and pining for him… until life handed him his new set of cards. It all ended for Cut when a career-ending injury cost him his scholarship and future playing pro ball, followed by their father's sudden death which beckoned him home to help fill his father's large shoes and run the family ranch.

"Sure, Cut stayed, but you didn't have to," Coy said. "You didn't want to. Lack of ambition?—"

"I'll stop you right there, brother. I didn't want to because this is home and nothing means more to me than this place and preserving it for our family and future generations. Cut shouldn't have to run the whole damn thing himself simply because he's the oldest while you?—"

"Nash," Devyn warned her brother, knowing full well where the conversation was going. "Not the time or place."

"What? He wants to toss insults and drop truth bombs, well here's a truth bomb to blow this whole thing up, big brother… We're here preserving the life Mama and Pops built for us and their parents before us, just so you can roam the world chasing ghosts."

And there it was. The hand of cards life had dealt Coy was revealed for all to see. Nash wasn't wrong. Coy was chasing ghosts, or one in particular… That of his dead wife. She was somewhere in every case he buried himself in. It wasn't clear if it was simply out of self-loathing to punish himself for the role he played in her death or to preserve memories that threatened to fade only to be replaced by the nightmares he wished would fade, but it was his truth, nonetheless.

"That's enough." Cut nudged Coy, forcing him to scoot one seat over so he could sit between his two younger brothers. "How dare you do this here, today of all days."

"Sorry," Nash mumbled.

"Sorry," Coy followed. "I just…"

"You just came home and decided Mama's funeral was the best place to settle differences? Who the hell are you anymore? Show up, all these years later, and this is what you do? To be honest, I'm surprised you're even here. That's more shocking than your behavior, Coy."

Nash grinned.

"You better wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, baby brother, or I'll do it for you," Cut warned as he watched and listened to the kind words a neighbor shared about their mother. "Since when did you start drinkin' and showin' up places like you're the town's drunken riffraff? You were raised better than that, boy."

"I—I know." Nash dropped his head.

Dillon sat tall and leaned in, ready to add her two cents, but the side-eye look Cut shot her way kept her silent. Cutler Stone may have been their brother but he was also head of their family, and the amount of respect they each had for him because of the sacrifices he made for them and the kind of man he was exceeded the importance of just about anything any of them had to say. When their father passed away, Cut stepped in and filled a fatherly-like role for each of them as they were much younger. He didn't garner their respect out of default, but because he'd earned it. Cut was the best man any of them could've known, aside from their father, and they each held him in such high regard.

The intense moment his presence generated among them passed and their shoulders relaxed as Cut's deep sigh was the sign they awaited, letting them know he'd settled down and all was forgiven.

"Imagine being able to hear all your shenanigans all the way up there where I stood. Who taught y'all how to whisper so loud? Mama would've had y'alls hides for that." Cut grinned.

"Our hides? Wow. How old are we? We're not part of your little brat pack, brother," Nash teased.

Cut crossed his arms across his chiseled chest and crossed his ankles out in front of him. "My brat pack is better behaved than the lot of you, that's for sure."

Sensing the change of tone and feeling the mood shift, Ransom Wyatt, President of the United States and Dillon's husband, chimed in with a chuckle. "They're a good bunch, Cut."

Ransom looked at the youngest, Tucker, and made a goofy face to which little Tucker made a face back, and the family chuckled at the cute antics.

"Is that for your media entourage?" Cut asked. "The equivalent to kissing babies, Mr. President? I thought your eight years were almost up and you couldn't run again."

"No, just being a fun uncle. I didn't invite them, Cut. In fact, we didn't even do a release to the White House Press Corp. I have no idea why they're here, or how they knew I'd be here."

"It's because you're the President and they chase your plane everywhere." Nash went on while offering a sympathetic look to a brunette on the next row over who seemed to be more upset than the siblings were. "Those guys have been rotating in and out of town all week like it's two-dollar Tuesday down at Knockers Nude?—"

"Please don't finish that," Dillon interrupted, seeming annoyed as she shook her head at Nash. "Ransom is hardly comparable to a rundown strip club."

"You're right," Nash went on. "Ran doesn't hold a candle to Lola May's?—"

"Nope." Devyn put her hand up to stop him from finishing his thought. "Don't finish that either."

"Haven't you outgrown nudey bars, little brother?" Dillon asked.

"Gasp! Nudey bar? Why, I never… I go there for the food," Nash defended.

"Sure, you do." Coy snorted.

Nash shrugged. "Best BLT in town."

"BLT? Not exactly complicated cuisine, Nash," Nora, Cut's wife, added. "Can you keep in mind the children are right here hanging on your every word like you're some kind of hero?"

"Ah. My little fan club. I'd never corrupt their minds with talk of a bad BLT." Nash ruffled the hair of the oldest boy, Beau. "A good BLT is an art. It's all in the toasted bread and thick bacon that's perfectly smoked. Not too soft so the bread don't stick to the roof of your mouth, and not too toasted so it wrecks it, and that bacon better not cut your gums."

"You smell like you stopped for a BLT on your way here this morning," Cut said with a disgusted look.

"Nah. But I sure did last night." Nash winked.

"Let me guess, with that brunette you keep making eyes with," Coy noted.

"Nope. That's Charlotte. Mama's oncology nurse."

Devyn shook her head in disappointment. "Of course, you were at the bar all night. Wait—you knew Mama's nurse?"

"Told ya. Grieving." Nash shrugged, eyes still on the brunette across the way. "And yes, I've known her quite a while."

"You've been grieving since your first fake I.D.," Coy chimed in. "When are you going to grow up and get your life together? And how'd you meet Mama's nurse?"

"You mean like never leave the farm, raise a bushel or two of kids, feel trapped…" Nash went on, "And Mama introduced me. There's a lot y'all don't know."

"Clearly. And I don't feel trapped," Cut said. "I chose to stay and run the farm when Pop passed. I like my life, and it's only three kids."

"Going on four," Devyn corrected.

"Not four yet," Cut said under his breath.

"Basically four," Dillon argued.

"Oh… it's definitely four," Nora said, rubbing her pregnant belly.

"Wow. Was that a scripted confession? Because I never mentioned your name, big bro." Nash snickered.

Dillon leaned in and asked Coy. "Glad you came home?"

"Not even a little bit."