Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY- THREE
RYDER
I jerked awake at four a.m., heart pounding. It didn’t happen nearly as often anymore, but sometimes a nightmare about Auggie hit hard all over again.
I was still on shaky ground when I showered and woke up Hank by flipping on the light in his bedroom. The bedroom that used to be my at-home office.
As a kid, we’d had an unspoken rule: never, ever wake up Dad, not if you valued your life. But if you absolutely had to, you’d best just throw a two-by-four at him from the doorway and then run like hell, praying you got out of the house before he got a hold of you.
This morning, just like every morning since his second stroke and subsequent craniotomy, the old man smiled at me happily.
“Ah,” he said.
“Gotta get a move on.”
Once upon a time, Hank could be ready in four minutes flat with military precision, including making his bed so tight that a quarter could bounce off the linens.
We kids were expected to be able to do the same.
But these days, it took me forever to get him ready for the day.
First up was the tricky dance of getting him out of the shower and dried.
Even more tricky, getting him into his boxers.
I crouched before him where he sat on the bed, holding out a navy pair for him to stick a foot into one of the leg holes like always.
Instead, Hank raised a hand.
I barely caught my flinch, a reflex from childhood, one I hadn’t had in years. Apparently my nightmare had stirred up some serious shit, having me running on instincts rather than conscious thought.
Hank blinked at me, as if he’d seen the gesture I’d nearly made.
Confusion flitted across his face. And not for the first time, or even the millionth, I wondered…
what did he remember? The doctor had doubted he’d retained much from recent years.
But the memories from years and years ago?
Some might’ve stuck. No one had any way of knowing.
Hank put his heavy hand on mine and squeezed. He…he was holding my hand, as if he knew I was on shaky ground this morning. I lifted my head, thinking I’d see something on his face. Maybe his own sorrow and guilt.
But nope. Nothing but that cheery smile as he pointed to the dresser.
He didn’t like the color of underwear I’d blindly grabbed. “Dad. Not this again.”
“Ah.”
Grinding my teeth, I went to the dresser and pulled out the stack of boxers folded in the top drawer, dutifully holding each up for his approval. Yellow. Black. Red. Green?—
“Ah,” he said.
Green it was then. Because no matter how much the old man had changed, some things remained exactly the same. He didn’t care what he ate, or that he’d been a horrible father—just that he got his way on what color shorts to wear.
After dropping him off with Nell, I made my way to Kiera’s to pick up the twins. I took a moment on her porch, feeling way too raw to be social.
But I refused to let down anyone inside this house, not ever again.
The house was a small, quaint American Colonial Revival.
She and Auggie had bought it cheap years ago, and we’d renovated it, updating the symmetrical facade and side-gabled roof, enclosing the back porch, turning it into a sunroom.
Now that there were two toddlers living inside, the place was almost too small, but I knew Kiera would never leave it, not when it brought her so many happy memories of Auggie.
My sister opened the door in leggings and an NYU sweatshirt—Auggie’s—sweating and breathless. Behind her, I could see the TV in the living room playing a Pilates class.
As always, when she laid eyes on me these days, she didn’t seem particularly happy to see me. Not that I blamed her. After all, I’d encouraged Auggie to go broaden his horizons, and he had.
And now he was gone.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” She gave a very small smile. “Thanks for the peanut M&Ms delivery yesterday. I’m sorry I snapped at you. That’s what I do now. I snap.”
“Gee, that’s brand-new information,” I said blandly.
“Hey, if you can’t snap at your brother, who can you snap at?”
“The rest of the world, apparently.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If this is about me yelling at Tucker and Caleb for buying Abi and Alex those massive squirt guns, they deserved it. They nailed sweet old Mr. Cooper in the face. His dentures fell out and his dog ate them.”
“How about snapping at people you aren’t mad at?”
She blinked.
Right. The question didn’t compute because she was mad at the world. And I hadn’t meant to ask in the first place, but I’d slept like shit and my filter was gone.
“Look,” I said quietly, still way too close to the proverbial emotional edge of a cliff for comfort. “Push me away all you want, okay? I get it. I deserve it. But your employees are hardworking and loyal. They don’t deserve it.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I overheard you on the phone with Penny when…” Well, right after I’d had my tongue in her mouth, but best to keep that part to myself. “When she was stocking my kitchen. You were harsh, Ki. She’s a great cook. People love her.”
Me being one of those people. I had a brief flash of the sight of those three falling stars arching in unison across that moonless sky. Damn, I really hated it when Tucker was right…
Kiera narrowed her eyes. “Penelope’s not supposed to socialize on the job.”
“My employees like her, so sometimes they stop to talk to her. You can’t control that. She can’t control that. All I’m saying is that you don’t want to lose her.”
She angled her head, a tell I knew meant she was itching for a fight. Which was a step up from shutting me out. “Maybe you should look in the mirror before telling me how to run my business.”
I paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, you know I’m not great at advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment instead?”
“Since when do you ask?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, fine, I’m not even going to try to be gentle. Why haven’t you hired someone to run the day-to-day business side of things to replace Auggie?”
I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t replace Auggie, no one could .
“I’m bringing Caleb in.”
She raised a brow. “ Our Caleb?”
“Yeah, I didn’t see that coming either.”
Cocking her head, she studied my face. “But…you love the idea of it.”
“I do.” I would lose Tucker’s presence here once he got hired on with the city.
He knew this world, loved building and working with his hands.
But as it turned out, there was something he loved more—helping people.
Being powerless and vulnerable as a kid had stuck with him, and he wanted to be the one to save others.
I understood that. I’d miss the excuse to give him shit every day, but I was happy for him.
Caleb, on the other hand, had lived and breathed hockey for most of his life. When he’d had to give up the game, he’d landed here in a bad head space. I’d always figured when he was ready, he’d go back to the world of sports in another capacity. Coaching, maybe. Or broadcasting.
But he was going to stay here.
Kiera’s eyes softened at my expression, but then she rolled them.
“You always did have to be in control and the boss of all of us. But at least you’re finding a way to get outside of that building and back to what you actually love.
Took you long enough.” Again she just studied me, the most observant of all of us.
“But something’s still wrong. What is it? ”
I shook my head. “You first.”
“Mine’s easy. My husband died.”
I put a hand to my chest to hold in the ache, but she gave me a very, very small, genuine but wan smile. “Too soon?”
I let out a breath. “Little bit.”
“I’ll apologize by handing you over the world’s cutest, sweetest little dictators who ever lived.” She moved aside to let me in. “They’re supposed to be getting dressed, but I hear a lot of heckling and giggling on the monitor.”
I nodded and started toward the stairs.
“I’m sorry I didn’t meet you guys at the gravesite last week,” she said to my back. “Or anywhere. I’ve been…”
I turned around to find her expression open for once. “I know,” I said quietly. “We get it. The last thing any of us wants is to push you too hard or rush you through your grief. But we don’t want to leave you alone either. You could start coming to breakfast again.”
“You still do that?”
The Colburn siblings had a long-standing weekly breakfast. It used to be dinner, and always at Kiera’s, but she’d stopped wanting anyone over or even hanging out with us. So we’d switched it up to breakfast at Al’s Diner—me, Caleb, Tucker…and Hank.
If and when Kiera expressed interest in joining us, we’d have to come clean about Hank first. But that was a problem for another day.
“You don’t have to talk or even smile,” I said. “We’ll handle the kids. You wouldn’t have to do a thing, except be surrounded by people who love you.”
She looked away, but nodded. “Soon.” She paused. “Ish.”
I’d take that.
“And I’ll work on being nicer,” she said softly, the faintest glimmer of a smile in her eyes. “At least, to everyone but you.”
With a rough laugh, I climbed the stairs. At the twins’ bedroom door, I heard giggling, so I knocked, and using a Cookie Monster voice, yelled, “Fe, fi, fo, hum…”
Squeals. Then a rushed gasp to “Hide!” This came from Abi, who of course had never been forced to learn that hiding wasn’t always a game, that sometimes it meant the difference between being safe…or not safe. God. I hope she never learned that.
More giggles…
This , I thought, briefly pressing my forehead to the door as my heart swelled against my ribcage painfully. This was what I needed, some unconditional, and probably sticky, love. Letting myself in, I eyed the twin lumps under the blankets in the bottom bunk. With four little feet sticking out.
Stealth was not their strong suit.
“Well, shoot,” I said to the room. “I must have missed them. Bummer, I was really looking forward to breakfast.”
Suddenly the four feet were in wild motion, cycling the air as two little kiddos with matching wild brown curls and bright eyes and sweet, soft smiles escaped the comforter and flew right for me.
Catching one under each arm, I sank into the massive beanbag in the center of the room.
“Unca Ry Ry,” Abi said, smacking her palms to my cheeks, staring at me, nose to nose. She smelled like forgotten dreams and strawberry shampoo. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I found this in my nose.” She proudly held up her pointer finger with something on the tip.
I tried and failed to squelch my grimace. “Is that a booger?”
“Yep!” she yelled cheerfully.
“Guess what?” Alex said, squirming closer.
I eyed him warily while grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand and confiscating Abi’s booger. “What?”
“Jeez Louise isn’t a bad word.”
“Very true,” I agreed, relieved he didn’t also have a booger. Or worse.
“So I can say it whenever I want?” Alex asked.
“Yep.” The beanbag was warm and cozy, and I wondered if I could talk the heathens into going back to sleep for a few. “You can say jeez Louise whenever you want,” I said on a yawn.
“But not fuck,” Abi said.
I choked on my yawn.
“Or fucker,” Abi went on. “Or fuckwad.”
“No,” I managed to say evenly. “None of those.” I eyed her. “Where did you learn them?”
“Unca Tuck Tuck,” Alex said. “He was driving us to the park and someone took his parking spot.”
Abi chimed in. “And then Mama said Unca Tuck Tuck can’t take us to the park for two weeks and he has to put money into the swear jar.”
I swallowed a laugh and met their matching hazel eyes, so like Kiera’s, like mine too. Except theirs were still guileless and truly innocent. Had mine ever been? I didn’t know.
“I’ll take you to the park this week.”
Twin yay s followed and they snuggled in. Warm and cuddled, I held them tight and closed my eyes, trying to shake off the melancholy that had chased me here.
Two slightly sweaty palms were still cupping my face.
“Unca Ry Ry tired?” Abi squeezed out from under my arm to cover me with her blanket, so gently and carefully, I wasn’t sure I could take it.
Then she climbed back on top of me, nose to nose again, her big eyes full of the love that I tried to soak in.
“You has a sad?”
I felt the sharp sting of tears behind my eyes, and my throat burned. “I do,” I whispered.
Wrapping her arms high around my neck, she set her head on my chest, scooting over so her brother could do the same. I hugged them hard, burying my face in Abi’s hair, blotting the few tears that I couldn’t hold on to any longer.