Wildflower (Colors #4) Read Free

and a laugh as he rolled his eyes. So I did what any reasonable older sister would do. I grabbed the skin just under his arm pit and twisted. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the high-pitched screech that escaped his throat, echoing around the stone walls of the church and drawing attention our way.
    “You suck,” he grumbled under his breath as we both slouched low in our seats.
    It might have been inappropriate behavior for a funeral… no, scratch that, it was totally inappropriate behavior for a funeral, but Grammy knew me and Ethan better than anyone. Hell, she’d been the one to raise us when our parents died. She wouldn’t expect anything less. She would want us to laugh, not mourn. She’d want us to speak about the good times, not wallow in the fact that she was no longer around.
    I had only been back in Wyoming for a week, and four of those days were spent at her side, hovering over her hospital bed, as she held on just long enough to impart as much wisdom as she could on me before she left this world. When I saw my grandmother on my first day back, the woman who had a large hand in helping me discover who I was, she was so frail and sick. I was almost scared to touch her. Then she opened her mouth and the tough badass I knew her to be reared its head.
    There was laughter. There were tears. There were emotional embraces. And the last words from the wisest woman I’d ever known were to make me promise to be there for Ethan. So while I was sad at losing her, my heart felt lighter knowing that I was lucky enough to have had her in my life for as long as I did. Even if we were on different coasts for the past several years. She’d want me and Ethan to be happy no matter what, and the two of us were determined to give her that. No matter how hard feeling happy might be.
    “So Old Lady Wilson still smells like Bengay, huh?” I asked, earning a low, quiet chuckle from my brother that warmed me from the inside out.
    “Yeah. And she’s still stuffing chewing tobacco in her lip thinking no one notices. Swear to God, Low-Low, the woman’s a fossil. I bet she’s not even human. She’s like a robot or something.”
    I covered my mouth on a giggle and linked my arm through my little, yet almost as big as me, brother and rested my head on his shoulder. “Missed you, shrimp.”
    “Missed you too.” He remained quiet for several seconds and I thought he was concentrating on the end—thank God—of the minister’s eulogy. That was, until he spoke again. “I’m glad you’re home, Low-Low.”
    I sucked in a deep breath, letting out a “yeah,” on the exhale, not quite sure if I felt the same or not.

    My head ached, my eyes burned from crying, and I was pretty sure my ass was black and blue from that damned wooden pew. But the service was over. Finally . I didn’t think I could have handled it much longer, and not just because of the physical discomfort. Emotionally, I was wrecked. It seemed everyone from our small town wanted to say some words in honor of the late Lucille Prewitt. I knew she touched lives, but had no clue just how damn many.
    After an hour of heartfelt words, condolences, and funny stories, I’d maxed out of just how water-resistant my mascara was. And you could bet your ass I would be writing a well-worded letter to Cover Girl the moment I got a chance, voicing my dissatisfaction in their product.
    Who’d have thought that waterproof mascara could burn even worse than regular mascara when it got in your eyes after crying gallons of tears? Believe me when I say, that shit is painful.
    Standing from my seat, I linked arms with Ethan and began moving toward the aisle.
    “How you doing, babe?” I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes as Navie wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.
    Thank God for best friends. I met Navie my very first day of college where we discovered we’d be rooming together. We hit it off instantly and had been like sisters ever since.
    After Grammy had