Chapter 3
ALEX
I hadn’t seen my nieces in person since I fled my hometown over eight years ago.
We’d talked via video, but I was unprepared for how grown-up they were.
When had Jordan gotten so tall? At twelve years old she looked a lot more like a teenager instead of the sweet toddler I used to sneak candy to.
She barely glanced up from her phone as I followed Char into the cramped living room of the three-bedroom ranch.
And that must be Izzy sitting next to her. How old was she now, eight or nine?
The television blared some cartoon featuring princesses, and the two little ones, Frankie and Dolly, sat on the ground, staring up at the screen.
“Girls, say hi to your uncle Alex.” Char reached out and turned off the TV.
A collective groan rose from the floor.
“Your uncle.” Char put an arm behind my back and propelled me forward a few steps.
“Hey. Dolly and Frankie, right?” I tried to reconcile the tiny faces I’d seen on my phone screen with the two little girls in front of me. They seemed so big, so real.
“Manners,” Char prompted.
The youngest, Dolly, got to her feet, tripping over the sparkly nightgown that hung to the ground. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Uncle Alex.” She held her hand out as she dipped into a low curtsy.
Char rolled her eyes. “That one thinks she’s a four-year-old princess. You’ll get used to it.”
A princess? What did I know about princesses? I took her small hand in mine and bent forward as I lifted it to my lips. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Dolly.”
“Ew”—she yanked her hand back—“don’t kiss it.”
Char put her hand on Dolly’s shoulder and spun her around. “Go put your real clothes on. We’re taking Uncle Alex out to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” I tried to picture the six of us clustered around a table.
What would I talk about with girls? Especially little girls?
Life at the research station was unfiltered.
I’d never had to watch my language or think about what I said before it flew out of my mouth.
Char appeared to run a fairly tight ship.
Wouldn’t do me any good to get kicked out the day I arrived.
“How about I grill up some steaks or something right here?”
“I like hot dogs,” Frankie said. “With mustard and relish and no ketchup.”
“Ketchup’s the best.” Izzy—a mini version of Char—bounced across the room, her feet barely touching the ground.
“Ketchup’s gross. So’s mustard. And I won’t eat a hot dog unless it’s a tofu dog.” Jordan gave a salute from where she occupied the corner of the couch. “Hi, Uncle Alex. ’Sup?”
“She’s a vegetarian this week,” Char said.
“When did they get so big?” I couldn’t get over how much they’d grown.
“Stick around and you can help us usher in the teen years.” Char moved around the room while she talked, picking up various items that appeared to have been abandoned by their owners. “If you’d rather stay in and have hot dogs, that’s easier.”
“Hot dogs are fine.” I tracked her as she moved from one mess to the next. “How old are they all now? Jordan’s still only twelve, right?”
Char nodded. “Izzy turns eleven in a few weeks and Frankie’s six. That’s what happens, they grow.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe it.”
“Mom, can I wear lip gloss if we’re going out to dinner?” Izzy asked.
“No. We’re staying home for hot dogs. Besides, you know you’re not allowed to wear makeup yet.”
I stood there, soaking it in. The majority of my interactions over the past several years had been with men. The sheer quantity of estrogen in the room made my stomach queasy. “Is there somewhere I can go to—”
“You need to go potty?” Dolly asked.
“No.” I glanced to Char, but she’d already started down the hall.
“Follow me. I’ve got you set up in the back bedroom.”
“That’s my room,” Izzy wailed. “How am I going to be able to work on my project if I can’t get into my room?”
“Mommy says Izzy’s a drama mean.” Dolly nodded to herself.
“It’s a drama queen, not mean,” Izzy yelled before slamming the louvered door leading into the kitchen. It didn’t stick, just bounced into the doorstop and ricocheted back and forth several times. “And I am not.”
“Jordan, get over here and pick up your stuff.” Char stopped to pick up a hockey stick. “She thinks she’s going to play for the NHL someday. Can you believe it?”
I hefted my duffel over my shoulder and made my way down the hall.
Framed pictures lined the walls. An image of our parents’ wedding day hung at eye level.
My mom beamed at my dad. My dad didn’t look quite as thrilled to be taking part in what I later learned was somewhat of a shotgun wedding.
Where was she now? I shouldn’t care, but it still bothered me that she’d walked out on us.
Char’s wedding photo hung underneath. She and Dave smiled into each other’s eyes like they were the only two people in the world.
I let out a chuckle. Suckers. Look where that got her .
. . holding down the fort while her husband played Army thousands of miles away.
I thanked my lucky stars I’d managed to make it to the ripe old age of twenty-eight without falling for that kind of a setup.
A few more steps and I entered a small bedroom that appeared to have a split personality.
Hockey posters covered two of the walls.
Wayne Gretzky peered down on me while Sidney Crosby took a slap shot to the goal.
Dark blue paint peeked out from underneath the posters, and a lamp made out of hockey pucks sat next to the narrow twin bed.
“The two older girls share. Jordan’s into hockey and, well, Izzy’s into animals.” Char leaned the hockey stick up against the corner of the room.
“You hear anything from Mom?” I tried to act casual, like it wouldn’t matter either way.
“Just the annual Christmas card.” Char shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her in years. The return address is a post office box in Biloxi.”
“Mississippi?” I asked.
“Yep. She’d probably send you one, too, if you ever settled down and got yourself a permanent address.”
“Wouldn’t be worth it.” I shot my sister a grin. She knew me better than anyone, which meant she was very familiar with my inability to stay in one place too long.
“Even now?” Char folded a pair of pants and set them on one of the beds. “I figured once you’d been on the road for a while you might want to come home. Hasn’t all that wanderlust seeped out of your veins yet?”
I held her gaze for a moment, but the hope and hurt made me look away.
How could I explain my need to keep moving?
She wouldn’t understand. Her whole life was here in this house with Dave and the girls.
But I didn’t have anything holding me to a certain place.
I never had and if it were up to me, I never would.
I glanced around the other half of the room. Pictures of kittens and puppies and . . . my gaze stopped at a large cage hanging in the corner. “What the hell is that?”
“What the hell is that? What the hell is that?” a giant bird squawked as it flapped its wings and flew out of the open door of the cage.
I ducked as it dive-bombed my head before settling on top of the dresser.
“Alex, meet Shiner Bock, the newest member of the family.” Char picked up a discarded sweatshirt.
“What is it?” I evaluated the large bird as it sat and pecked at its wings with a giant curved beak.
“A parrot. Izzy traded her bike for it a couple of weeks ago to some guy driving through the neighborhood.” Char pulled open a drawer, and the bird climbed onto her shoulder. “She got grounded for a month for talking to a stranger and we got Shiner Bock.”
“Got Shiner,” the bird mimicked.
I let my bag fall to the ground. “Thanks for putting me up. I promise I’ll find my own place as soon as I can.”
Char turned to me. “I’m so glad to have you here.”
The bird cocked its head one way and then the other.
“Maybe it’s good to be home.”
“Yeah?” She tilted her head to the side, matching the parrot’s pose.
I stifled a laugh. “Yeah, for a little while.”
I meant it. I might have left the small world of Swynton behind when I tore out of town all those years ago. But it was nice to be back among the only family I had left. As long as I got out before everyone started to smother me with expectations.
There was a fine line between a nice visit and making a commitment.
I’d be more than willing to help out while I was around.
From the looks of things, Char needed it.
Dave had been on back-to-back tours since Jordan was a baby.
Seemed like he only had enough time between tours to come back, meet the newest kid, and knock up his wife again.
But Char could handle it. She was the strong one in the family, always had been. I’d stick around long enough to collect my paycheck and make sure Gramps was settled somewhere before I took off again. That meant the clock was ticking, and it was time to get started.
Zina
I pulled up Lacey’s number on speaker as I made my way across town.
Zeb had an appointment with his therapist and refused to take the free shuttle that provided rides for local veterans.
He said it reminded him too much of being on the transport vehicle when they’d run over the IED that ended his military career.
“Hey, what’s up?” Lacey asked.
“I just wanted to let you know that I ran by the Phillips House and dropped off your linens.”
“Great, thanks.” Lacey must have held her hand over the mic. Her voice sounded muffled as she said something to someone in the background.
“And I ran into someone interesting.” I waited for a response. When none came, I continued. “He used to play football against your brother and Zeb.”