Chapter 4
Four
Henry
I can hear them from the hallway. Tabitha, Angie, and Sage’s laughter echoing off the walls. I should join them. This is a happy occasion, after all.
But I can’t bring myself to do it.
Besides, I shouldn’t be around Tabitha. She makes me want things I have no business wanting.
If only we’d met a year ago. Before…everything.
So instead of joining them, I retreat into my room.
Well…my room when I was growing up in this house.
It’s been years since this was actually my room—I moved out some time ago—but this is still where I come when things get to be too much.
It’s exactly how I left it, and I sometimes stay here if we’ve had a party and I’ve tied one on.
The queen-size bed was a gift for my tenth birthday.
The mattress was replaced when I left for college, but everything else is the same.
My awards on the wall, my baseball glove on the shelf, even the vintage record player Uncle Joe gave me when I was going through my retro phase. A little slice of Henry history.
I settle down on the bed. Zach jumps up to join me. Memories flood me as I think back to when things were simpler, when life was about baseball games, ranch chores, and family dinners.
Before I knew what it felt like to take a life.
I run my hand over Zach’s head. His eyes look into mine with such understanding that I feel like he knows what’s going on inside my head.
That’s the thing about dogs. They just get it.
They sense your mood, your feelings, even before you fully understand them yourself. I wish people were like that. Simpler. But we’re not. We’re complicated and messy, filled with secrets and unspoken words.
Our humanity makes us beautiful and ugly at the same time.
Zach’s tail thumps against the comforter.
“You’re always happy, aren’t you, boy?”
I continue to pet him as I glance to the picture frame on my nightstand. It’s a photo of Dad and me after my first baseball game. I was barely tall enough to reach his waist then. That day feels like a century ago, yet it also feels like yesterday.
I was good at baseball. Terrific, actually.
I was a star in high school—the only one in our family to excel at the sport.
My cousins Donny, Bradley, and Brock were all champion football players.
The football coach tried to recruit me because of my size—and probably because of my name—but it was never my jam.
I didn’t like the idea of potentially hurting other players.
I never liked the idea of hurting anyone, to be honest.
So much for that.
Again, it’s not guilt I feel.
Not remorse.
I’d do it all again in a minute.
But that doesn’t mean I want to remember the feel of a gun in my hand or the deadly finality of a bullet leaving the chamber. The eternal knowledge that I ended another human’s life.
Parts of me have changed, parts that will never be the same. Parts that won’t let me join in the laughter echoing down the hallway. Even though an important part of me wants to, especially because Tabitha is there.
This is a wedding, for God’s sake. I need to be cheerful, have some damned fun.
I close my eyes and try to shut out the world. But all I see is Tabitha’s face—the way her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the soft curve of her smile as she laughed with Angie.
A knock on the door jolts me out of my thoughts. Zach perks up his ears.
“Yeah?” I call out.
The doorknob turns, and Sage pokes her head inside. “Hey, Henry,” she says with a bright smile. “We were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner. I’m just going to throw some burgers on the grill. Mom and Dad are over at Uncle Talon and Aunt Jade’s working on the party, so it’s just us.”
I scoff. “Yeah, I bet Dad and Uncle Tal are really contributing.”
Sage laughs. “They’re no doubt drinking Peach Street on the deck, but anyway, they’re not here. Come on and join us.”
“I’m not really hungry,” I say, even though my stomach begs to disagree. The thought of sitting at the table with Tabitha—laughing, eating, pretending everything’s normal when it’s anything but—feels like too much.
Sage sighs, her smile faltering. “Come on, Henry. We’re family. You don’t have to hide in here.”
I know she means well, that she’s just trying to help. But she doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what it’s like to carry this weight, this darkness inside me.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say softly. “But I think Zach and I are going to call it a night.”
She crinkles her eyes. “Uh…it’s six thirty.”
“So? I’ll get a snack later.”
She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t push it further. “All right, then. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will,” I assure her.
Sage seems to hesitate at the doorway, like she wants to say something more. But after a moment, she just gives me a small smile and leaves.
Zach whines and looks at me with those big brown eyes of his as if he’s asking, “What just happened?”
I pat his head and sigh. “It’s just us tonight, buddy.”
He whines again.
And it hits me. “Shit, I’m sorry. I haven’t fed you yet.”
So much for staying out of the kitchen.
I rise from the bed. Zach thumps his tail and hops down onto the wooden floor with a soft thud. He and I leave my room and head for the kitchen where I hear the distant sound of laughter.
Angie and Tabitha are slicing vegetables at the island. Sage is outside at the grill, flipping burgers with an expert hand, her long hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
Man, I need a drink.
“Hey.” Angie looks up from the counter. “You decided to join us? Sage is making plenty.”
I shake my head. “Just need to feed Zach.” I amble into the pantry to find the bag of kibble Mom and Dad keep here for their own brood of dogs, all of whom are outside along with Tillie. Zach whines at the door, begging to join them.
“Not before you eat, bud,” I say, dishing up the dog food.
I place the bowl on the floor, and Zach begins gobbling.
“Are you sure you can’t join us?” Tabitha asks.
Her voice…
I want to say yes.
Want to be near her.
“Maybe.” I offer a noncommittal shrug.
She gives me a small smile before returning to slicing tomatoes.
I take my time feeding Zach and getting him water.
By the time I finish and turn around, Angie has disappeared outside with a tray of lettuce, tomato, and onion. Sage is still at the grill. Only Tabitha remains in the kitchen, washing her hands at the sink.
She looks up as I approach, her soft brown eyes meeting mine. “Hey,” she says simply.
“Hey.” The word feels heavy in my throat, like it carries more weight than it should.
A moment passes between us, silent but for the hum of the refrigerator and sound of laughter from outside.
And I have a strange urge—except it’s not so strange—to kiss her.
Right here. Right now in the kitchen.
I want to kiss her so badly it hurts.
But if I do, I won’t stop.
And if I don’t…
I’ll keep wondering how her tongue tastes, how her flesh feels…
My parents are gone for the evening. Sage and Angie are outside.
What might her full pink lips taste like? How would they feel against my own?
I shouldn’t be thinking about kissing her.
Not now. Not here.
But I take a step toward her, reach out my hand to cup her soft cheek.