Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Nash
“Look at that. He lives.”
I shoot Bennett a glare as I climb out of the truck in Mom’s driveway a few weeks after Lucy left. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”
“Oh good.” My brother rolls his eyes, shoulders sagging. “I was hoping to spend tonight with a cynical eighty-year-old man.”
“I’m not eighty.”
“You are in soul years,” he mutters as we climb the steps and head inside.
Mom greets us in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel before opening her arms for a hug. “You two planning to bicker through dinner or take a breath and act like brothers?”
“Not mutually exclusive,” I grumble, shooting Bennett the side-eye.
Beau barks from under the table. I lean down to scratch behind his ears and he flops onto his back like a diva who’s waited all day for this moment.
“How’s the new job?” Mom asks as she pulls a magazine worthy roasted chicken from the oven. Her voice is mild, but I don’t miss the concern in her eyes. The flick of her gaze across my face, cataloguing all the details. She already knows. Mothers always do.
I shrug. “Fine.”
Bennett snorts. “That’s Nash-speak for I hate everything about it but won’t admit it yet.”
“I don’t hate it.”
“You don’t love it,” he counters.
“It’s practical.”
“Ah yes.” He plucks a piece of asparagus from a serving plate and takes a bite. “Practicality. The great romance of our time.”
I shoot him a glare. Mom cuts the chicken and doesn’t look up when she says, “Practical is good. Until it costs you everything your heart needs.”
Bennett whistles, reaching for a plate. “She’s got a point.’
“Of course I do,” she says, smiling. “I’ve lived long enough to know the price we pay for settling.”
I survey the feast Mom provided, suddenly tired.
“I’m not settling,” I say, filling a plate and having a seat at the table. “I’m trying to build something solid. A life Lucy can come back to.”
Mom slides into the seat across from me. “Sweetheart, if you crush yourself in the process, what’s the point?”
Well ouch, Mom. Isn’t compromise and sacrifice part of a good relationship?
I push my food around my plate, not ready to answer out loud.
“How are things going between you two?” Bennett asks, more gently now.
“We talk,” I say with a sigh. “Every night we can. Text when we can’t. But time zones suck, and her schedule’s insane. Last night she video called me from a hallway in some random stadium with a bowl of dry cereal in her hand. She looked like she’d been crying but swore she was just tired.”
“You tell her you miss her?” Mom asks.
“Of course.” I furrow my brow because how could I not tell her that? She’s the only thing I think about. “She said she misses me too.”
“But neither of you says anything beyond that,” Bennett adds, cutting a bite of chicken and shoving it into his mouth like we’re talking about something as banal as the weather.
“Lucy is living her dream,” I say. “She worked hard for this. Lost it, then managed to get it back. Who am I to say or do anything to make her second-guess her decision?”
“She’s not a kid, Nash.” Bennett sits back in his chair. “We’re the same age and they gave me a gun and a badge. They even trust me to decide what to do with them all by myself. If Lucy’s second-guessing something, she probably has a reason.”
“She sounded tired,” I admit. “Not just physically. Like… soul tired.”
Mom leans forward. “Then bring it to God.”
I raise a brow. “You think he cares about video calls and bad rehearsal schedules?”
“I think he cares about you,” she says simply. “About the ache in your chest you’ve been trying to pretend isn’t there. Maybe he won’t fix the problem how you want, or when you want, but he’ll fix the problem. At the very least, you won’t be the only one looking for a solution.”
Bennett shrugs and shoves a bite of chicken into his mouth.
I look for a graceful way to change the subject and am grateful when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Normally, I’d leave it be at the dinner table, but with Lucy’s schedule…
I pull it out, smiling when her name lights up the screen.
“I gotta take this,” I say, already standing. “She only gets a few minutes before call time.”
My mother and brother make shooing motions as I accept the call and step onto the porch.
“Hey,” I breathe, and I swear it’s the first time I’ve felt whole since the last time I talked to her.
The sky is deepening into that pre-sunset glory of gold and pink, but it’s nothing compared to Lucy’s face filling the screen. She’s in yet another hallway, sweat on her brow, flyaway hairs stuck to her cheek.
“And suddenly my whole day just got better,” she says with a wide smile. “How are you?”
“Better now.” I smile. “You?”
Lucy shakes her head, eyes wide in that way that says today was not part of the dream. “Sandro had a meltdown in rehearsal. Said we’re stealing his spotlight. Demanded a bunch of changes that puts us on these rickety risers. I’m just saying, I see now why there were so many injuries on the tour.”
“You okay? Ankle holding up?”
“I’m fine. It’s fine. I miss you something awful, though.”
“I miss you, too.”
There’s so much more I want to say, so much more I want to hear. I crave the conversations we used to have at the dinner table, laughing and joking about nothing. But she’s in a hallway and I’m on my mother’s porch and there’s always a countdown on these calls.
“I won’t be able to talk long,” she says, as if she could read my mind. “They called an emergency run-through to set up all the changes Sandro made. And, oh! I’m doing this whole aerial thing now, so I have a meeting with the fly crew to get comfortable in the harness.”
“Aerial thing?”
Lucy glances behind her. “Yeah. It’s crazy, but I’ll have to tell you about it later, when I have more time. I just needed to see you. To hear you.”
“I’m glad you called.”
“I’m sorry it has to be so short.”
“Don’t be. I understand.”
She glances over her shoulder again. “They’re starting. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“You better.”
Lucy blows me a kiss. I pretend to catch it and press it to my lips. The screen goes black and I stand there, watching the sky like maybe the answers would be written in the streaks of light streaming out from behind clouds.
I sigh.
Mom’s words spin in my head. Bring it to God.
It’s been so long, and I don’t know if it ever helped, but I find myself gripping the porch rail and bowing my head.
“I don’t know if you’re there. If you’re listening. If you care. Or if you even exist. But I don’t know what I’m doing and I sure could use some help. I don’t… I just… I don’t know what to do, but I can’t keep feeling like this.”
I open my eyes and lift my face to the sky.
A breeze stirs. The crickets begin their nightly symphony.
There’s no deep, booming voice. No lightning strike of revelation.
But something like peace settles over my heart.
I sigh, releasing a breath I’d been holding since Lucy left, and my shoulders soften, just a fraction.
After a few more deep breaths, I head back inside.