Chapter 3

When he faced the crowd, Casey’s dark eyes scanned the mourners and he cleared his throat as he shuffled a few index cards. His gaze landed on something—or someone—and he nodded, almost imperceptibly. That’s when Wade realized Casey had probably spotted his girlfriend, Allyson. She was always like a balm to his nerves—Allyson centered Casey. It had been like that since they first started dating several years back.

“My father was…a difficult man,” Casey began, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s no getting around that. But he cared in his own way.”

His gaze fell on Wade, then Landon, his lips curved into a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“He had a hard life. Never graduated high school, yet he took a small parcel of land his great-grandparents had purchased years before and turned it into a large, thriving ranch. Because of him, the Dwyer Ranch has more than quadrupled in size and the name is synonymous with quality beef. I am not ashamed to say I am proud of what he accomplished and that…that I loved him.” His voice cracked and he wiped away some stray tears. Casey found and held Wade’s gaze as he spoke again. “I didn’t always agree with his thoughts or beliefs or the way he let his anger get in the way of family, but I didlove him.”

Wade felt a lump in his throat as his brother’s words washed over him. He’d always known Casey didn’t agree with the hatred aimed at him, but this open declaration was meant for him and Wade knew it. He nodded his thanks and hoped his brother understood he’d never dream of holding a grudge toward him. No, he had no issue with Casey loving their father—at one point, Wade had loved him, too.

Casey curled his fingers into the collar of his blue dress shirt and tugged. Wade empathized with him. Wearing a suit wasn’t something he relished and his brother looked just as uncomfortable in his as Wade felt. In fact, that was something he shared with his father and brothers. The Dwyer men preferred comfort over style. It was a must when working the ranch.

He watched as Casey wrapped up his speech and headed back to his seat, and once again, Wade was struck by how much he looked like their father. Same square jaw, ruddy cheeks, and squat nose. But then he looked into his brown eyes and was quickly reminded how different the men were. Casey’s eyes were full of warmth. When he laughed, they crinkled—and he laughed often. The love he felt for his family—and Allyson—was always easy to see on his face. His dad’s face had been etched with tension, frown lines permanently scored into his skin.

Tears he didn’t know he had in him splashed down his cheeks, catching him by surprise. He swiped at them as Casey rejoined his brothers. As he took his seat, Wade clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder and cleared his throat. They weren’t prone to a lot of touchy-feely moments between them, but it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.

“You did great,” he whispered.

Casey wiped his face and looked at him, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he mouthed.

After that, the rest of the service passed quickly and Wade was grateful for that. His mind was a jumble of thoughts. The future of the ranch. His brothers. Lance.

Once they’d watched the coffin lowered into the ground and they’d all said their goodbyes, Wade was ready to crawl out of his skin. Too many people. Too many emotions. Too much everything.

Wade rose from his seat and looked to the dark horizon just beyond the stone wall. He itched to be on his horse, riding across the open space. Away from it all.

“Where’s Lorna?”

He turned at Allyson’s voice and smiled. “She’s back at the house. You know how she gets when people are coming over. She’s fussing over the food.” And she hated our father.

Casey slid his arm around her waist and smiled. “She even had Wade vacuuming earlier.”

Allyson laughed and swiftly brought up her hand, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Casey pulled her closer and kissed the top of her auburn curls. “It’s fine, honey.”

Wade smiled also. He’d been surprised when their housekeeper had shoved the vacuum toward him that morning, proclaiming she had “things in the oven” and watched him, her hands on her hips, practically daring him to argue. Not that he would have—nobody argued with Lorna. The petite woman may have looked demure with her gray hair in a bun and her spotless aprons, but he’d learned early on, if you didn’t do as she said, she’d threaten to kick your ass across town with her no-nonsense shoes. Besides, she’d been with them for almost ten years and all three boys would do anything for her. Truth be told, she was more like a grandmother than a housekeeper.