Fallon
Chapter fifty-eight
Slip this is everything I had envisioned for a BBQ. Full of the people you love, appetizing smells floating around you, and laughter, the laughter has been the best part.
Jules and Jonah have been the entertainment for most of the day. Jules leads that man around, not that he seems to mind. It’s a well-choreographed dance between the two.
Cyrus chases the kids. Their footfalls echoing off the porch steps. I steal a quiet moment at the base of the magnolia tree for myself. Liam squeals with delight. I smile. He calls me ‘mom’. It is a gift that I will cherish forever.
Seeing Cyrus with the kids makes me want to spend the rest of my life with him.
When he first returned, I was scared, not wanting him and Billy to interact.
I was ready for rejection and desperate to shield my daughter from the heartbreak I knew so well.
Now? I can’t imagine life without them. He effortlessly hoists Billy onto his back while spinning Liam; he’s a natural father.
“Family life suits him.” I turn, Jonah’s approaching me with a beer in his hand.
“It does.” Taking note of the glass of red wine in the other hand, I ask, “That for me?”
He stops directly beside me, his bright eyes alight with mischief. “I come bearing gifts, if you’ll accept.”
“I’d love a glass of wine, especially since the temperature is dropping.”
He agrees, saying, “This summer’s weather has been strange.”
Betty’s voice carries across the yard, bridging the space between the women and us. “Hey! It’s Disney karaoke time!”
With a noticeable air of enthusiasm, Lani distributes the microphones to everyone.
Her infectious happiness trickles into the area.
She’s so happy to have us all together. I push away the twinge of guilt for how long it’s taken for this to happen.
I truly believe now that everything worked out the way it was meant to.
An old blue truck’s engine obscures what she’s saying. As Todd exits the vehicle, he retrieves a cooler from the trunk, and the woman whistles. Jonah’s shoulders vibrate with amusement at the scene.
“Dotty, you owe me fifty bucks! I told you, Lani, the old hussy was sneaking ‘round with him.” Lou’s cry of outrage at Dotty’s foul language with the kids around is drowned out by my surprise at shocking cold liquid splattering all over my bare, sun-kissed shoulder as Jonah fights for his life from coughing.
He gasps for air. “There’s…something…” Whoosh. “…wrong….with…” Whoosh. “…those women.” He finishes on an exhale.
Cool, crisp wine rushes over my tongue, an explosion of flavor bursting forth; it’s a refreshing reprieve, grounding me in the moment. “Jonah, you haven’t figured that out by now?” He rights himself, scowling towards the porch where the women in question are.
“No, Fallon, I swear, old age has broken something in them.” He looks exasperated. “These women used to put soap in our mouths for language. Now they openly talk dirty and curse! It’s hypocrisy at its finest.”
Laughing with him, my fingers flick some grass off my shorts. I say, “Well, at least it was more entertaining than the weather conversation that we started.”
He sobers, leaning against the tree. I watch as he chews on his top lip. “About that.”
Dread rolls through me with his morose tone. “Jonah—what is it?”
His jaw tics, “I wanted to tell you that you’re my friend, and that my sister’s actions are incomprehensible to me. I’m disgusted by everything she’s done. Whatever play you make—I’m with you, with your family.”
Moved by his words, I take another sip of wine to pass some time, to mull over what he’s said.
It’s no secret that Jonah and Jordan aren’t close, even as twins.
They’ve never had that kind of relationship that’s sensationalized.
His support means more to me than he realizes.
“Thank you, Jonah. That means the world to me.”
I sigh and take another sip of the crisp wine, though the crisp flavor isn’t nearly as robust as it was moments ago. The shift in the conversation stole something from it. Or perhaps, it’s reminded me of troubles borrowed for another day.
“Believe me when I tell you, having difficult family members isn’t always the easiest part of our lives.
I also understand how hurtful it is to be judged by what others do that we’re related to, and I could never do that to someone else.
” My gaze holds his. Steady. Honest. “I think your sister is going to have a difficult enough time navigating through the community. There’s no need to take it any further.
Besides, you and I both know it’s my mother behind the actual damaging stuff. ”
He exhales slowly, taking a long pull from his beer.
“Rosemary’s a real piece of work. No offense—I’m your friend, but your mom is a bitch.”
Wine sprays everywhere as I choke mid-laugh, sputtering as it dots the grass around us and probably my shirt too. The laugh that follows is loud, unrestrained, tearing straight out of my chest. Heads turn toward us from the porch, curious. I wave them off, still catching my breath.
Once I manage to pull myself together—because hello, that was crude and hilariously accurate—I take in Jonah’s face.
The humor is gone.
The easy warmth he’s always carried—the jokes, the grin, the way he fills every space with light—has slipped away. What’s left is something unspoken now, something he’s holding too close.
I see it. Instantly.
I’ve worn that look before.
I nudge my shoulder gently into his.
“Jonah…when we were younger, all I wanted was to be with Cyrus. To have a family. A life I could be proud of.” The words hang in the air, heavier than I intended, but I don’t take them back.
My vulnerability rests between us. “When he left, I was lost, unsure which way to turn. I had to put myself back together without him. The hurt quietly pressed in on me for years, and I wasn’t used to anyone else being around. ”
He glances at me, fully present, yet there’s hesitation in his posture. He’s bracing for something he isn’t sure he’s ready to hear. I take a breath, keeping my voice steady, soft but deliberate.
“If I haven’t made this clear before…I appreciate you. You’re the kind of friend who shows up when it matters, steady as anyone could ask. To me. To Cyrus. To the kids.”
I pause, allowing the words to settle. His shoulders shift a fraction, and I notice the tension in his jaw ease. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t have to—but the small nod, the way his eyes linger on mine, tells me he’s taking it in. That’s enough.
His calloused hand squeezes my shoulder. Solid. Grounding.
“You’re stuck with me,” he says quietly. Then, trying to reintroduce humor too quickly, too deliberately, he adds, “So I can tell Amos I’m the family favorite now, right?”
His brows wiggle. The practiced line, a familiar deflection, an avoidance method he uses too often. I smile because he wants me to, but the quiet ache underneath it is impossible to miss. “You’re incorrigible,” I tease gently.
His hand gestures vaguely between us, then toward the house. “Come on-let’s go sing. Betty and Dotty can’t carry a tune. Poor Lani and Lou will be digging out earplugs soon enough.”
I study him for half a second longer than he wants. Then I ask it anyway. “Is this about Jules?”
He stills.
His gaze shifts toward the porch, as if there might be an emergency waiting to rescue him. “No,” he says too fast. Silence stretches.
“She cares about you.”
His mouth twitches. “She cares about bullying me and stealing my fries.”
“That’s Jules’ way of flirting.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, well…it’s possible I have a thing for emotionally unavailable women with commitment issues. Really staying on brand.”
The joke lands wrong. It drops between us, heavy, brittle, and unfinished. I hold his gaze. “That wasn’t funny.” He gives me a look that says, ‘Please drop this.’
I don’t. But I don’t press him either. Instead, I give voice to the truth he’s been avoiding. “You deserve someone who stays,” I murmur. “Someone who chooses you out loud.” That does it. He looks away. I let the silence stretch, then ease us back toward safer ground.
With the sun lowering in the sky and fireflies beginning to blink softly across the yard, we start toward the porch together—where our friends and family wait, unaware of the things we carry quietly between us. Our days really are shaping into something special.
Not perfect.
Not untouched by pain.
But real.
And chosen.
And growing.
And somehow, that is everything.