Chapter 5
Brooks
Setting the pen down on Avery’s desk, I tuck the note into my pocket and turn to the sleeping pair in the bed.
Avery is tucked into Emryn’s arm. There is a peaceful look on her face as she sleeps, but Emryn’s is the opposite. Worry lines her brows, even in her sleep, and I can’t help but wonder what happened tonight to put that look there.
I cross the room and sit on the bed beside her, careful not to wake her. Sometimes, when I find it hard to sleep, I memorize the lines of Emryn’s face. She’s my favorite thing to look at.
With cautious movements, I trace the line of Emryn’s jaw, needing to feel her skin against mine. She stirs for a minute, and I pause the path my finger was taking until she settles back into sleep. I’m content to watch her for just a little longer.
I’m thankful for many things, but second chances are at the top of that list. My life would look a lot different if she hadn’t given me one. I haven’t always been the best husband, but I’m determined to be better than who I was in the past.
The minutes tick by as I sit on the bed and watch my wife hold our daughter. In a thousand lifetimes, I could never dream of having this in my life.
It’s only when my back starts to ache that I gently stroke my hand down Emryn’s arm to wake her up. She groans, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as she struggles to wake up.
Leaning down, I whisper against her ear. “Let me carry you.”
She nods, a drowsy smile on her face as I lift her in my arms and carry her to our bedroom.
“I’m mad at you,” she says while simultaneously curling tighter into my chest, laying her head on my collarbone. Her eyes never open, but her lips dip down into a frown.
The words aren’t needed. I know why she’s mad at me. I’m mad at me, too.
“I know, pretty girl, and I’m sorry I missed bedtime.”
She shakes her head against me, her hair tickling my throat. “It wasn’t just that. Avery had some hard questions tonight, and I had to answer them by myself. I felt—I felt lonely again, and I didn’t like that feeling. I know there will be times you aren’t here, but I just—the insecurity got to me tonight.”
Guilt settles in my chest like an old friend.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. My words are a whisper against the top of her head.
Emryn opens her eyes and looks up at me. I love it when she looks at me. It makes me feel like the luckiest man on Earth because she sees through all the ways I try to hide—from the people I love and myself.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. Those insecurities are on me, and they are mine to deal with. You’ve proven again and again that you want our marriage to work. Tonight was just hard.”
Our bedroom door is cracked, so I nudge it with my foot, never losing my grip on my wife, and open it the rest of the way. Walking in, I kick the door close behind us. I’m to our bed in a few seconds, gently laying her down and climbing in behind her. Her back is to my chest, and my arms wind around her waist, pulling her close. It’s only then that I respond.
“Tell me what happened tonight to make it so bad for you.”
My hand finds her hip, and I swipe my thumb over it, offering her comfort as I wait.
“Avery knows about your dad being sick.”
That’s not what I expected. My whole body tenses. “How does she know?”
Emryn turns in my arms, rolling over to face me. The sorrow on her face is palpable. “She overheard you and Grayson talking at the cookout.”
I sigh, the sound long and harsh against the silence of the night. “Of course she did. She’s the nosiest kid I’ve ever met.” That earns a small smile from Emryn, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “How did she take the news?”
Her eyes turn glassy, and she avoids my gaze for a second before returning them to mine. “Not very well. She doesn’t understand why God can’t just make him better if she prays for it, and I don’t know how to explain that to a four year old. I feel like this will steal some of her innocence.”
A headache starts to form behind my eyes as the thought of my daughter suffering heartbreak at this age weighs down on my shoulders. As her dad, I want to protect her from the hard things in life, but I also know that I can’t always do that—even if it kills me.
“But that’s life, Emryn. As much as we might want to, we can’t put her in a bubble and protect her from all the bad things that happen. We also don’t know what this is with Dad. Maybe it will be nothing—I hope it’s nothing.”
Emryn chews on her lip, and I reach up, dragging my thumb against the edge to get her to release it. “What else is bothering you?”
“When I tried to explain why prayer doesn’t always bring the results we want, she said she didn’t want to pray anymore, and I get that she’s four, Brooks, I really do. But I am so scared of failing her in her faith. What if this is the thing that tips the scale for the rest of her life?”
“Hey,” I say, pulling her tighter to me, “we won’t let that happen. We have her whole life to teach her what faith looks like. It’s up to us to show her that faith perseveres despite everything else. We lead by example, and she will follow. I understand that what she said tonight worries you, but I think those are the words of a hurting four year old, not a determinant of anything else.”
Emryn’s face is pressed into my chest, and she nods against me.
“I need you to be right.”
I grin into her hair. “I usually am.”
She pinches my side, and it’s my laughter that breaks through to her. She chuckles, and the vibration of laughter reverberates into my chest. I squeeze her tighter to feel it longer.
______________________
“These things make me feel like a monkey in a suit,” I grumble, walking into the fitting for my tux with my brother behind me.
“Quit being such a whiner.” Grayson flicks the back of my ear, and I hiss, grabbing the spot.
“I’m telling, Dad,” I sing-song, and when I look at him over my shoulder, he’s rolling his eyes.
“Having a little brother is a pain in the butt,” he grumbles.
I shoot him a grin before turning my attention back to the store we just walked into.
The interior is sleek and sophisticated. Grayson fits in with his business suit and expensive loafers, but I look out of place. My boots are dirty from being outside on a job site today, and my clothes have seen better days. I don’t see the point in wearing nice things when I know I’ll be on site. I’ll just ruin them anyway, but now that I’m walking into this place, I feel like I should have at least brought a change of clothes.
“How may I help you?” A sales lady asks, approaching us. There’s a scrunch of distaste on her nose as she looks me up and down, but when her eyes turn to Grayson, they light up like a Christmas tree.
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
Grayson steps up beside me, his shoulders squared and the permanent scowl he wears on his lips.
“I called in our measurements several weeks ago. It’s under the name Montgomery.”
Shock causes my mouth to drop open. I know that the tuxes are for my vow renewal, but Grayson is the one who called in the measurements because he has dealt with this store before. He could have easily put the reservation under his last name, but he didn’t. He used Montgomery, and somehow, that feels monumental.
The sales lady, whose name tag reads Julia, preens under Grayson’s attention, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The only woman he ever notices is Georgia.
I’m glad he has someone like that— someone to love the way I love Emryn. Everyone deserves to feel that in their lifetime.
“Yes, right this way,” Julia says. “I’ll get you both set up in a dressing room and bring the tuxes to you.”
We follow her without a word, and she leads us to the back of the store. Then, she spins in her heels, going to grab the tuxes.
Grayson’s face is blank as we wait for her to return.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, casually rubbing the hem of my shirt between my fingers.
It’s silly for me to be nervous, but I am. I’ve known Grayson for a year, but one thing I know about him is that he’s not big on talking— not that I am either, or rather, I didn’t used to be. Going to therapy with Emryn has helped a lot.
“Are you going to anyway?” Grayson asks, cocking an eyebrow.
I shrug. “Probably.”
He sighs. “Go ahead then.”
“Do you still trust God even though he didn’t save Nate?”
For once, Grayson’s emotions aren’t hidden behind a blank stare. He blanches, shock evident in the way his eyes widen and his jaw ticks.
Maybe that question oversteps the boundaries we’ve set in our new relationship, but I want to know because Avery is struggling. Every day we’ve sat down at the table this week, she’s refused to say the prayer. She’s always the first to jump in and say it, but now she stays silent, dipping her little shoulders.
And I hate it.
I feel helpless because I don’t know the answers, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse if Kip really is sick.
Grayson still hasn’t answered the question, so I rush to explain, hoping that when he hears it’s for Avery, he won’t be so hesitant to talk.
“Avery found out about Kip.”
“Dang it, man,” Grayson says, scrubbing his hand down his face. The hesitance in his eyes is gone when he looks back at me. “That’s rough. I’m sorry. What did you tell her?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I didn’t. I wasn’t there. She asked Emryn about it because she overheard us talking, and now she doesn’t understand why she has to pray about it if it means Kip could still die anyway.”
The tint of my brother’s skin turns a little green, and I hate that he’s here in this position again—dealing with possibly losing someone else, even if his and Kip’s relationship is still a little rocky sometimes.
“Did Emryn explain that we don’t know anything yet—that just because he’s sick doesn’t mean he’s going to die?”
I shake my head. “Yeah. At least she tried. But Avery’s four, and she just doesn’t get it.”
Grayson’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and then looks away, running his hand through his hair. “To answer your original question, yes, I still believe in God, but it took a lot of pushing to get me there. I guess I never necessarily stopped believing, but I was angry for a really long time.”
“How did you get over that anger?”
He grits his teeth. This is hard for him to talk about. Heck, if I lost my best friend at such a young age, it would be hard for me too, so I wait, giving him the time to process.
“I think—” he starts, then stops again, clenching his hands into fists. His face is broken. He looks shattered in a way that only true heartbreak can cause. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him besides when he’s with Georgia, but that’s different. That’s a love that heals the broken parts of him. I see it in the way he smiles at her. “I think sometimes I wonder if I will ever fully let go of that anger. There are days I catch myself thinking about Nate, and I get so mad because he didn’t get a chance to live his life…But then I realize that maybe life for Nate meant suffering, and God probably knew that. At some point during my grief after Nate died, it hit me that God saw my anger. He doesn’t hold that anger against me, and I can’t hide it from him, so I don’t. I don’t have kids, but—can I give you some advice?”
“Are you going to give it anyway?” I ask, mimicking his words from earlier and trying to lighten the mood.
Smirking, he says, “Probably.”
“Then go ahead.”
“This is your chance to show Avery that prayers don’t have to be just pretty words of thanks. They can be ugly, raw emotions too.” Scratching the back of his neck, he says, “I don’t know a lot, but I think the honest, lay it all out his feet are the kind of prayers he wants from us anyway.”
The wisdom of his words hit me in the sternum, and I rub my hand over the spot, trying to wipe away the ache.
“Yeah,” I croak. “Maybe you’re right.”
His advice stays with me as Julia returns with our tuxes, sending us each into our dressing rooms to change.
I’m lost in my thoughts until I hear a sudden rip from the other side of these paper-thin walls. Then I hear Grayson say, “Are you kidding me?”
There’s irritation in his voice that has me throwing the tux jacket on and rushing out of my changing room.
Too distracted by what’s happening outside, I don’t pay attention to the fit of my tux until it’s too late. The pant legs are just long enough that I trip over them as I rush out the door, falling flat on my face.
For a moment, I lie there stunned, not sure what happened, and then I look up. Grayson is standing in front of a three-way mirror, looking at his backside. A giant rip runs up his butt, right along the seam.
I snort, not trying to hide it. I’m still lying on the ground when Grayson turns and glares at me.
“What’s so funny? You’re the one on the ground because you can’t manage to walk.”
“Hey,” I scoff, pretending to be offended, “the pants are too big. It’s not my fault.” Holding up my leg, I show him how the hem hangs over my toes. “Who called in the measurements, anyway? Oh, right. That was you.”
Grayson glares at me through the mirror. “They must have written them down wrong.”
Shoving myself off the ground, I walk over to where he’s standing, careful not to trip. When I’m standing beside him, I clap him on the shoulder. “You know you can just admit when you are wrong.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me, but his glare turns into a smirk, looking like a little Cheshire cat.
“What?” I ask, a little afraid of that look.
“Fine. I called it in, but you get to be the one to call Emryn and tell her we have no tuxes for the ceremony. Good luck with that,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder the way I did him and then sauntering off.
I think about tripping him for a minute, but then it hits me—he’s right. And I’m dreading that phone call.