19
Noah
The entire drive home from Atlanta, I had to suppress the urge to cancel dinner. I couldn’t find any reason to expose any of us to what is sure to go down. By the time I’m showered and dressed—with nearly all the black stains washed away—Oakley is rushing us to the car. After forty-five minutes in my truck with Jett in the passenger seat looking good and Oaks and Sadie in the back seat, my nerves are shot.
This is ridiculous. There’s no reason I should be nervous eating dinner at Mama’s house. And yet, I am. Trying to talk both girls out of staying, I turn to Jett.
“You sure you’re up for this? Probably won’t be too enjoyable for any of the parties involved.”
Trace’s black F-150 is parked by the garage.My chest aches at the thought of what he might say in front of Jett. This was a terrible idea.
Oakley shoves my seat before she slides out and clips Sadie’s leash. “Quit being a big baby, big brother.”
Tuning out my sister, I take in Jett’s expression. Hoping it doesn’t mean she’s about to bolt but willing to run with her if she’s changed her mind. The beast of a house in front of us is staring me down. The thought of walking through that front door has anxiety coursing through my veins more heavily than I’d anticipated. I haven’t been by since Christmas, and that was only long enough to give Mama a hug and to drop off a fresh load of firewood.
“You two can stand out here and turn into human popsicles, but me and Sadie are going in. Can’t wait till I’m back on flights tomorrow. At least I might luck up and find myself somewhere warmer.”
As those two slip off, Jett turns her focus to me.
“You okay?” Her small hand wraps around mine and squeezes.
Taking a deep breath to settle the nerves, I give her a squeeze back.“Not sure why I’m so nervous about it. Think it’s just been a heck of a month, and I’m not—” I cut myself off. “Are you sure you’re good going in there? Mama may stake a claim on you, and she’s not one to let go easily.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, be whoever you need me to be. For tonight.” Wrapping her arms around me in a hug, she buries her cold cheeks under my chin. “You’ve got this, elevator man.”
“Yo! Y’all comin’ in or what? I’m hungry and Mom says we can’t fix plates till y’all come in,” yells the familiar voice of my brother. Glancing up, I find his head sticking around the front door, probably trying to keep as much cold air out as he can.
Lifting a hand from Jett’s back, I wave him back in the house. “Be there in just a second, Trace.”
He nods before slipping back in, the door slamming behind him.
“Ready?”
“Let’s go meet the fam.”
***
Dinner flows smoother than expected, with Trace staying quieter than normal. Mom of course fawns over Jett, wanting to know everything about her. It doesn’t matter that we told her we are just friends; she’s already convinced it is forever. I love her even more for it. Jett is a rockstar, never showing any outward discomfort. The occasional touches on the arm or back are the only signs she’s in over her head. Whenever it happens, I either slide my hand up and down her spine or palm the base of her neck like she likes.
Even now, standing in the kitchen while chatting with Mama, she leans into my hand as it rests between her shoulder blades. Whenever she leans more heavily against me, I give my thumb and forefinger a few squeezes. She takes a deep breath and exhales the rising anxiety. Wash, rinse, repeat.
When Trace steps back through the door after taking out the trash, the air shifts and I tense. Jett reaches her hand around my waist and leans against me.
“Hey, man. Can we talk?” My brother’s voice is unsure, like he knows the likely response is no. But Jett’s comforting gazeand gentle smile is the push I need to nod.
I follow him to the living room, parking in front of the fire place and hoping the flames burn the nerves away. One of the few things I miss by living in a loft is the live fireplace. Eventually, I’ll move into one of my rental properties. I already have it picked out. And the fireplace is the best attribute.
Not wanting to beat around the bush, I take a settling breath before addressing Trace. “What’s up?”
“Didn’t think Oakley Kate would actually get you to show up tonight. Sure as hell didn’t think you’d bring a girl with you.”
“Wasn’t planning on coming. I sure as hell wasn’t planning to bring Jett. She insisted.”
“She seems cool,” he says as he studies the flames that flicker over the fresh logs he must have added on his way back inside.
“Jett’s great.”
He finally takes a breath. “Farrah and I split.
“Oaks told me.”
Trace just nods along, unphased by my shortness. Impressive, really, since he’s usually the first one to lose his cool.In recent years, he would have already jumped down my throat about not having the flames built up enough or not being first to do some menial task. As he continues, I do my best to focus on the version of my little brother that is standing in front of me.
I’d love nothing more for this to be real.
“Lately, I’ve been doing some soul searching. Started talking to someone about Dad’s death, and I am realizing that most of my anger is misplaced. I’ve made your life hell since we were teenagers, and I’m sorry. For that. For making you feel unwelcome in our hometown, in our childhood home.
“I know you found a home in Havenwood after I all but forced you away from us. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
I stare in shock, not truly grasping his words. Is he serious? Am I dreaming? Is this for real?
“I’m not…I don’t know what to say.”
“Jace said—”
That yanks me from my stupor. “Wait, when did you talk to Jace?” I am going to murder my best friend.
Trace at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Might possibly call him every now and then to check up on you. Knew you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts but needed to know my big brother was doin’ okay.”
“Since when do you care, Trace? Since when? You’ve spewed nothing but hate at me since we were kids.”My heart is in overdrive, pumping fiercely to match the anger—or is that hurt?—boiling over.
“Since I started getting made fun of for not having a dad.”
Freezing with my hand midway through my hair, I turn back to Trace. “What do you mean?”
“Middle school was brutal. Kids realized I didn’t have a dad around, and it’s all the ammunition they needed. Then high school—not having him there for any of my games, graduation, moving into college.” He trails off before refocusing on me. “I’d associated you with the loss of him since you were there with him. I had this unrealistic expectation that you should have saved him.”
“I was a—”
“A kid. I know. I knew . But it’s taken me twelve years, a divorce, and actually talking about it out loud to even begin to sift through that grief. It’s hard . And you’ve been pulling double grief duty between dad and Maya. So, I’m sorry for being a shit brother.”
I turn away again; I can’t keep looking at him as my eyes threaten to leak.“Why now?”
“Told you.”
“No, why are you laying all this out now? This isn’t your style. It’s one way we have always been the same. We don’t share our feelings.”
“I’m trying to build a life that Dad would’ve been proud of. Means I have a ton of work ahead of me.”
He holds his hand out to me—a clear offering that I’d be stupid not to take, even if I’m worried it may be too good to be true.