Chapter eleven Penn
Chapter eleven
Penn
Age Sixteen
“Grab that hammer and come over here.” My father motions to the tool with his free hand, and as soon as I retrieve it, he points to where he wants me to place the nail. “That’s it. Secure right here too.” He points to the next spot.
As soon as the nails are in place, he stands up again and brushes the sweat from his brow. “Well done, Penn.”
“Thanks. It looks good,” I reply, surveying our last few hours of work even though the last thing I wanted to do was come out here and help him with this today.
“Looks a hell of a lot better than it did before now, doesn’t it?”
While most teenage boys are sleeping in on Saturdays, my father drug me out of bed to spend the last six hours repairing a wheelchair ramp to one of the buildings at the Carrington Cove Veteran’s Center.
Ever since my father was honorably discharged from the Marines when I was little, this has been his home away from home, the place he dedicates his time to and the job he works now to help pay our bills.
And when he commissions my help, I spend a lot of time here too.
“Sheppard.” Hank Lyle, one of the staff sergeants here, comes up to me and my father, shaking my dad’s hand. “Thanks for getting this done on such short notice.”
“It’s the least we could do.”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine, right?” Hank says.
My father nods, his face almost stoic. “Yes, sir.”
“Now I know this is just about finished, but I have a few more projects that need some attention as well. Care to stop by my office before you leave so we can figure out a timeline to get those things done?”
“Of course. Penn and I just need to finish up here. We’ll save the painting for tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. See you in a bit.” Hank saunters off and my father motions for me to start picking up our tools.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s get this done, see what else Hank needs, and then grab some lunch. My treat.”
A little over an hour later, I’m sitting across from my father at Deedee’s Sandwich Shop, a local spot in town that always has a line out the door. “Are you going to make me get up at six again tomorrow?” I ask him, already dreading his answer.
“I need your help, Penn.”
“Why can’t Parker help, or one of the other guys at the center?” I groan as I toss a chip in my mouth.
My father takes a moment to consider this before responding. “Well, if Dallas were here, he’d be helping us. But your brother chose to leave, and that means that I need your help the most now, especially since Parker’s not quite old enough yet.”
Dallas left just a few months ago for basic training for the Marines. It’s been weird without him at home, and for the first time in my life, I feel like most of the attention is on me, and I don’t fucking like it.
“Why is it so important? What do you get out of helping around the center? Or helping Mrs. Hansen fix her pipes?” I shake my head. “I just don’t get it.”
My father leans back in his chair and stares at me.
“Penn, not everything we do in life has to be about us.” I watch his throat bob up and down as he swallows.
“In fact, there’s so much that we do that affects more people than just ourselves, son.
Giving back, putting others before our own selfish needs, is one of the greatest energies you can put out in the world. Trust me on that.”
“I guess.”
He leans forward now. “Let me ask you something. If Brandon needed something from you, would you be there for him?”
His question catches me off guard. “Well, yeah. He’s my best friend.”
“Right. So if he asked you to help his mom, or sister, or his wife one day…would you hesitate?”
“Not at all.”
“Because Brandon is your brother, Penn.”
My brow furrows. “Uh, no he’s not.”
My father grins. “Not literally, Penn. But by choice. My Marines, the men I work with, the men that I’ve served with? They’re my brothers too, and you should always honor and help your brothers when they need you, even when they’re not around.”
My mind starts to reel back over the years—how many times random guys would show up to the house to help our dad with a project, how often he would do the same, how many funerals my father attended for men that died while serving.
I know all about the sacrifice that it is to give your life to your country.
I mean, hell—Dallas wanted to do it, and my father tried to talk him out of it, which tells me he knows the possibility of what awaits him.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask him, taking a drink from my soda.
“So that you have something to aspire to, Penn. Your brother wanted to serve, and I couldn’t stop him, even though I tried.
But you? You have the ability to serve without ever putting your life on the line.
You can serve your brothers at home—be someone they can depend on, someone loyal and trustworthy.
You honor your brothers, Penn, even the ones not related to you by blood.
Trust is something you never want to lose between men.
And always remember that those relationships are the ones you should never turn your back on because those are the people who will be there for you no matter what. ”
***
Present Day
I slam the tailgate shut on my truck, grab my tool bag from the ground, and head for the front door of the rental house.
The chill in the air nips at my skin, and when I unlock the front door, a blast of cold air from inside the house hits me too.
I’d turn on the heater, but once I start swinging a hammer and moving shit around, I’ll warm right up.
Placing my tool bag on the ground, I reach up to pull down my beanie. My eyes land on the pile of rubble from the night I brought Bentley here. It feels like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it’s only been four days.
Four days and everything has changed.
For the millionth time since Friday night, the memory of Astrid and I fucking in the bakery enters my mind.
I can’t stop seeing it, reminiscing about it, replaying it over and over in my head—not just because it was the most erotic sexual experience of my life, but because it blew every one of my fantasies out of the water.
I know she felt what I did too. She had to have. There’s no way our chemistry was surface level. But I could tell that she was having trouble processing what it meant. The look in her eyes before she left the bakery told me everything that I needed to know—she’s scared.
But tonight, I want to assure her that nothing’s changed.
In fact, I want her to see the possibility of what could be if we gave this a real shot.
I just really need to know where her head is at so mine isn’t still such a fucking mess, but that’s hard given that we haven’t talked about it yet because, again, timing hasn’t been on our side.
I know what I want, despite what my head has told me for the past three years. I know that us dating will invite questions and opinions, but after experiencing that night with her, I know that she’s worth all of the bullshit we might endure. She’s worth the guilt.
She’s worth everything.
The woman who has been my friend for nearly my entire life just may be the person I’m meant to be with.
That reality makes my stomach churn and my heart have palpitations.
There are other things to consider too—her brother, the kids, and how fast this could move given how close we already are.
But the biggest issue to address is Brandon.
I have to know where her head is at in regard to him because mine’s been plaguing me with memories that won’t let up—and I’m not sure what to do about it.
I have a full day ahead, though—a few hours working on this house, then a half shift at Hansen’s Hardware.
Every minute of every day in my life feels like it’s packed with work and obligations, which normally I don’t mind.
But now I have something to look forward to beyond work, making resentment build in my chest since I have such limited time to focus on that.
A knock at the front door startles me from my thoughts. When I turn toward the sound, Grady barges in, not bothering to wait to be invited in.
Fuck. What the hell is he doing here?
Maybe he knows you fucked his sister the other night.
Jesus Christ. There’s no way. Right?
Astrid wouldn’t tell him that…would she?
“Hey, man.” Grady steps into the house, surveying the mess, looking normal and not pissed off, so that’s probably a good sign.
“What’s up?”
“I saw your truck outside and I was on my way to the gym, so I just decided to stop by to say hello. We didn’t get a chance to talk at the game.”
Grady showed up during the second half of the soccer game yesterday and watched us clench the championship, but then he had to get back to the garage to work on a customer’s car.
I barely got to say two words to him the entire time he was there, but based on how casual he’s being right now, I’m guessing he doesn’t know what transpired between me and his sister.
“Well, I was kind of busy.”
He nods. “I know, but I wanted to congratulate you in person. That was a hell of a game and season. I bet you’re glad to have a break.”
“Thanks, man. Unfortunately, work was still calling this morning, so not much of a break.”
“Just more time to work now, right?” He casts his hands out to the side.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“What are you doing here? I thought the Nelsons sold it.”
Fuck. Here we go.
Just tell him. You can’t keep this from everyone forever.
I mean, hell…Pam already told Astrid, who will eventually say something to Grady and then he’ll be pissed he didn’t hear it from you.
“This house is mine now.”
Grady’s eyebrows pop up. “You’re moving?”
“No.” I take a deep breath and say, “I’m gonna turn this place into a rental and start my own contracting business.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I roll my eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?”