Chapter 32
Jett
I’ve faced a live fire with steadier hands than I have opening my grandparents’ front door tonight.
The last family dinner Wren and I attended was a fiasco.
Neither one of us has gone to one since.
We’ve both had private conversations with our parents about their reasons, and even though it happened years ago, it’s a fresh wound now.
Wren and I are healing and moving forward in a way I’ve dreamt of, which helps the whole forgiveness thing.
While it tore us further apart, it didn’t break us completely.
My palm rests against the worn brass knob, the grooves smooth from decades of use, and for a second, I breathe.
Sounds from inside filter through the open windows since there’s no central air in the cabin.
I’ve offered many times to foot the bill, but Grandma reassures me they’ve survived this long, why change it?
My chest tightens as I exhale deeply. Wren’s soft hand squeezes mine, and I inhale her perfume.
I glance down at her, and she’s calm. Too calm as she smiles up at me, but it’s not the same smile I left her with last night.
Don’t get me wrong, she looks beautiful in that effortless way she always does.
A sundress flows around her ankles, hair pulled back in a clip, loose waves framing her pink cheeks from yesterday’s sun, exposing new freckles.
But her eyes tell a different story. They’re dimmer, almost as if shadows have crept back into her whiskey eyes. The gold flecks are nonexistent, like she didn’t get any sleep last night, like endless thoughts were keeping her awake.
My brain has been on high alert, racking all the possibilities.
I texted her when I got home, telling her again how much the last few days meant to me.
Then I called her this morning as I was heading home from morning chores.
She sounded tired, but I thought it was from the hangover.
But knowing and seeing her now, I don’t think that’s it.
I keep telling myself it’s nerves. Tonight is the first family dinner she’s attending on my arm. It might not seem like a big deal, but deep down, we both know it is.
Not only are we attending dinner together, but my brother, his wife, and my nephew are in Silo Bay for the summer.
“You okay?” I murmur as I cup her jaw, lifting her face so I can get a read on her.
“Yeah,” she forces out with a smile. “A lot of memories here.”
I nod, thumb brushing over her cheek. “You say the word, and we leave.”
She nibbles on her lip. “I’ll be fine.”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I push open the door.
Conversation greets us as voices overlap and laughter bounces off the walls. The smell of garlic from the pot roast fills the room as we step deeper into the house.
“Ready for this?”
Wren squeezes my hand. “With you by my side, I’m ready for anything.”
Grandma’s voice carries over the rest.
“They’re here!”
She steps forward, pulling Wren into a hug without hesitation. I watch as her shoulders relax a fraction, without realizing she was holding all the tension there.
“Goodness, Lydia,” Grandpa teases. “Let the girl breathe.”
I scan the room, all eyes on us, but I don’t miss Mark glancing at where my hand is attached to his daughter’s.
His gaze lands on mine, and he gives me a stern nod.
I can see the hesitance in his eyes, and I can’t say I blame him.
I’m the reason why his daughter left ten years ago and never came home.
We’ve talked about the past, me leaving, but I need to assure him this time with Wren is different.
He’s seen the changes in my demeanor, so I hope he knows I’d step in front of a bullet before I’d let anything happen to Wren.
“Oh, stop it, Harold. I’m happy to have my family together under one roof.”
“One of these days, all of mine will be here too,” Wren’s Grams says across the room.
“Nate and Rachel couldn’t make it?” I ask, glancing around the space.
“Corbin wasn’t feeling well,” Mark supplies as I nod in understanding.
Nate and I weren’t super close growing up; it was always Wren and I stuck together like glue.
That’s not to say we didn’t get along and don’t have as many memories together, but it was a different kind of friendship.
Since being home, we’ve grabbed beers and had a few conversations.
I promised I’d never hurt his sister again.
And after he picked up a distraught Wren from my house, well, that resulted in another conversation.
One that ended amicably with an understanding that we were sorting out the past and how I don’t plan on causing Wren any new pain.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Grandma’s hands cup Wren’s jaws. “Not so rail thin as you were when you got home. And a little tired.”
“Well done, Son,” Grandpa praises, wiggling his eyebrows, and I flinch, meeting Mark’s eyes again. My sister chuckles behind her glass from where she’s sitting at the kitchen table.
“Jesus, Grandpa,” I groan as Mom and Grandma scold him.
A hand claps me on the shoulder, gripping a little too tightly. I turn my attention and find my younger brother smiling his goofy grin before pulling me in for a hug.
“It’s good to see you, big brother,” Crew greets before he pushes me away.
“Been too long.” I look around the room. “Where’s that wife of yours?”
“Changing Carter.”
“Holy shit,” Wren gasps, and she’s scolded by one of our grandmothers for swearing. “Look at you, Crew.”
Her eyes widen as she takes in my brother. He’s grown into quite the man since the last time she’s seen him, when he was maybe fourteen. At six-five and nearly two-hundred-fifty pounds of muscle, he shrinks the large kitchen.
“Look at me? Look at you,” Crew charms, as Wren tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
I smack my brother in the chest. “Stop flirting with my woman.”
He huffs a laugh. “Your woman?”
“Well…”
“That’s what I thought,” Crew jokes.
“What’d I miss?” Bret, Crew’s wife, asks with a deep exhale as she holds my nephew.
Her long black hair flies haphazardly around her face.
Dark circles mar her tanned skin from late-night exhaustion.
Still, she looks as beautiful as the first time I met her.
It was after I surprised Crew at one of his college football games for military appreciation.
The three of us went out for pizza, back when they were still hiding their relationship.
Too bad I could see right through the facade.
Crew wraps an arm around his wife, kissing the top of her head. “You didn’t miss anything.”
“Your husband’s flirting with my girl,” I grumble, throwing him under the bus.
“Oh, is he?” Bret purrs, eyeing her husband, and I smirk.
“Your girl?” Wren asks, and I flinch a little.
“God, it’s like you two never left,” Saylor adds, referring to our childhood bickering.
“I only have eyes for you, Rebel,” Crew pleads.
She leans up on her toes and presses a kiss to his lips. “I know you do, but it’s fun to give you hell.”
I step closer to my sister-in-law and stretch my hands out. “Can I take my handsome little nephew?”
Bret nods ecstatically, handing him off to me.
I shift Carter until he’s resting comfortably in my arms. I’ve never been one for kids. They’ve always intimidated me with their fragility, but as I observe my not-so-tiny nephew and his gummy smile, I can’t help but relax with him in my arms.
I watch my sister in my periphery move toward Wren.
She slinks her arm through Wren’s and the two of them slip out the back door onto the porch.
I watch in disbelief that she’s back in my life and attending family dinners again.
It feels like a pinch-me moment, like I’m going to wake up from a dream and find myself back in the Middle East, sleeping on a cot in a war-torn world.
A voice clears from beside me, and I glance up to find Wren’s dad holding a beer out to me.
“You look like you could use one.”
I nod, taking the open bottle from him. “Thanks.”
His eyes bounce to Carter. “Maybe you’ll give me some grandkids before I get too old to run around with them.”
I choke on the sip of beer I was taking as Mark’s ice-breaker comment hits me square in the chest. Coughing and spluttering, I try not to scare Carter, who’s staring up at me with wide eyes. Please don’t start crying.
Crew barks out a laugh as he claps me on the back. “Yeah, big brother. When’s Carter getting a cousin?”
“Jesus,” I grumble. “I think everyone needs to slow down.”
“Oh, would you two give the boy a break?” Mom steps in. “Although I wouldn’t mind more grandbabies. Lord knows Saylor isn’t giving me any any time soon, and this one”—she points to Crew—“isn’t having anymore for a while.”
“We just had him,” Crew defends.
Glancing through the glass patio doors, I find my Whiskey watching me, only her gaze is on the baby in my arms. Is my girl thinking about babies?
She used to tease me about the basketball team we’d have, but given everything she’s been through, are kids still in her future?
Conversation blurs around me as I try to picture what life could’ve been.
There’s an ache in my chest, wondering if Dad would still be here if I had been home to help on the farm.
He’d love to see his family still gathering around his childhood table with kids of their own.
Would we be here with a couple of our own kids?
I can picture it. Wren in the backyard, dress flowing behind her, hair floating in the breeze. Two kids—the perfect mixture of us—chasing after her while her laughter drifts in the hot summer air, as I stand back and watch my everything.
“Where’d you go?” A shoulder nudges me, and I bring my attention back to the now. Crew’s standing close to me, reading me like an open book.
“Thinking about what could’ve been.”