Chapter 5
Walker
THE WEATHER IS fitting. Cold. Dark. Dreary.
Fucking mournful.
Just like me.
I pull in a deep breath, lifting my eyes to the metal roof over my head when the rain picks up, each drop echoing as it hits the building erected when my aunt and uncle bought this property twenty years ago.
I lean forward on the bench I’ve occupied at least once a week for all those twenty years, placing the flowers I brought across the engraved stone that spells out the duration of my mother’s life in letters and numbers. “Happy birthday, mom. I still really fucking miss you.”
My throat goes tight and I feel like I’m twelve again. Like I just lost her yesterday instead of twenty-five years ago.
“I thought I’d find you here.” My Aunt DeeDee’s voice doesn’t surprise me. She’s here almost as much as I am. Visiting with her sister.
There aren’t many people I’d be glad to see right now, but she’s one of them. Because I’ve got a question only she can answer.
“It’s never going to get easier, is it?”
I thought eventually I’d be able to move on. Move forward. That my mother’s death would stop haunting me.
But so far that’s not the case. I’m starting to think it never will be, because the odds of finding out who caused it get slimmer every day.
“No.” My aunt’s voice is soft as she settles down beside me. “I don’t think it will.”
I swallow at the lump in my throat. Blink at the burning in my eyes. I’m not against crying—God knows I’ve done enough of it in my life, nearly all of it over the woman I’m missing now—I just know once I start, it’s easy to get lost in the pain. To wallow in the sadness.
To let it take over.
“Then how do I get past it? How do I move on?” I’ve been stalled out for years. Stuck in a loop I can’t seem to get out of. Grief and anger just keep circling around, dominating my days and dictating my decisions.
“By focusing on the good instead of the bad.” She sighs. “When I start to get upset, I think about who your mother was instead of how she left us. She was the best person I’ve ever known.” Aunt DeeDee reaches up to smooth back my hair, the same way my mom used to. “And you’re just like her.”
Her touch is mothering. Filled with love and affection. I didn’t know how much I needed it until she showed up, swooping in at the right second the way she has for years.
I don’t know what I would have done if DeeDee and Ted hadn’t taken me in the way they did. Added me to their family like I was just one more son. I’m sure my life would have taken a totally different trajectory without them.
At this point I’ve been with them twice as long as I was with my mom. I love them. They love me.
But I still can’t help but think of what might have been. What it would have been like if my mom hadn’t had to work late that night. If she’d taken a different way home.
I also wonder if the bastard who caused the wreck that killed her and two other people has suffered for what he did. If he spends every day looking over his shoulder, waiting for someone to discover his secret and make him pay for it.
I wish I could be that someone.
“I try to make her proud. To make you pr—” I turn to look at my aunt so she can see the sincerity in my expression, but the words die in my throat.
She’s covered head to toe in mud—or something like it. One of her gloves is missing, her coat has a rip in the sleeve, and I’m pretty sure I can hear water sloshing inside her boots.
DeeDee shakes her head before I can question her condition, rolling her eyes. “Don’t ask.” She reaches out to pat my knee, the dirt caked under the nails of her ungloved hand stealing my attention and making me miss her next words.
I blink, bringing my eyes to her equally dirty face. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She gives me a soft smile. “I said, I’m always proud of you.” Her gaze drifts to the monument serving as my mother’s memorial. “And she would absolutely be proud of you.”
It’s what I tell myself. At night, when I’m alone with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, I wonder what my mother would think of the man I became.
What she would think of the business I started in her name as a way for me to keep her alive.
A way to feel connected to the woman I didn’t get nearly enough time with.
“She would. However…” My aunt’s eyes come back to my face. “She’d also be a little miffed that you forgot about Thanksgiving dinner.”
Fuck.
“I’m so sorry, Aunt DeeDee. I even put it in my phone and then left the damn thing in the house when I came out here.” I was looking for peace—something I have yet to find—and thought without my cell it might be easier to come by.
Obviously not.
Deidre shakes her head, the soft expression she always has for me easing a little of the tightness in my chest. “You don’t need to apologize, sweet boy.
I know you have a lot going on.” She pulls in a deep breath, blowing it out on a sigh.
“All you boys do. I worry about how much you work. All the hours you put in.” She faces the granite in front of us.
“You don’t take time for much else, and I just wish you would enjoy your lives a little more. ”
I understand what she’s getting at. I appreciate her concern.
I’m not sure my cousins—more like brothers—would feel the same way, but I know Deidre just wants us all to live the happiest lives we can.
And I hate to disappoint her, but I’m not so sure happy is in the cards for me.
It’s hard to find joy with so much sadness hanging over your head.
“I do enjoy my life.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
“I’ve got a beautiful home. A successful business.
The best aunt a man could ask for.” A flash of brown has my head turning to catch sight of Gunnar chasing around a fat ass squirrel.
“And I don’t have a dog that’s in love with a rodent or humping all my pillows.
I’m not sure it could get any better than that. ”
My aunt’s head tips back as she laughs loudly, the sound bringing on the first smile my face has felt all day. She shakes her head, eyes tracking her pet. “That damn dog is going to be the death of me.” She tips her head my way, angling a brow. “Him and you boys.”
I pretend to be offended, bringing a hand to the center of my chest. “I’d hardly call missing Thanksgiving dinner deadly.”
Deidre purses her lips. “I don’t know. I was pretty ready to start killing people when nobody showed up.”
Shit. “Nobody showed up?”
I assumed I was the only idiot with his head so far up his own ass he didn’t remember what day it was. Honestly, I should’ve known better. My brothers are hard-working, driven, and reliable. But they definitely get in their own way and forget the people around them.
Not that I’m any better. Obviously.
“What can I do to make this up to you?” I ask, knowing she’ll give me an honest answer instead of the bullshit ‘just knowing you’re sorry is enough’ response she’d give everyone else.
Deidre and I have always had a unique sort of relationship. Part parent and child. Part aunt and nephew.
And entirely each other’s only connection to the woman we both loved desperately.
I know she loves me just as much as the sons she birthed, but it’s in a different way. Not better or worse, just different. And on some level, that’s always left me the odd man out. In spite of my aunt and uncle’s continuous attempts to make me feel like I’m no different.
But I am. Always will be.
“All I want is for you to be happy. To find something—or someone—besides your career that brings you joy.” She gives my knee another pat before standing up. “Because one day I’ll be gone, and I don’t want to look down from wherever I am and see the five of you still working yourselves to death.”
It’s a great thought—to find someone—but I don’t see how I can make it happen. I’m in no position to burden a woman with my swinging moods and frequently shitty disposition.
For years, I put off dating thinking I would eventually have closure. That if I just waited long enough, I’d be able to close one door and open another.
But twenty-five years later, I have to accept it’s unlikely that will happen. That this is potentially the best my life will ever be.
And I wasn’t lying earlier when I told Deidre I was happy. I am.
My version of happy. It’s not pure or unblemished, but it’s good enough.
It will have to be, because if I can’t give all of myself to someone else, I sure as hell won’t ask them to give everything to me. And with all I’ve lost, I don’t see myself being the kind of man who’d be willing to settle for half.