Chapter 3 #4
“Yes,” Jericho said, his voice low, his gaze on Orlando, who blinked up at him with sad brown eyes.
He sighed, his gaze back on Kennedy. “They were the other couple in the plane when it went down. I was already deployed by then, but I came home for two weeks of leave. Went to Mom and Dad’s funeral, of course, and then I showed up at her parents’ funeral.
” He paused, his voice dropping. “I meant to talk to her, but she was standing at the front, giving the eulogy, and she was just so . . . I don’t know .
. . angry. It . . . wasn’t the right time.
I left, but Gabe saw me, followed me out of the church, and that’s when he said Harley blamed Dad for their parents’ death.
” He lifted a shoulder, the movement stiff.
“He was flying and there was a storm, so . . .”
“Accidents happen,” Hudson said. “It wasn’t Dad’s fault.”
Jericho nodded, his throat tight. He knew that. But the ache still lingered, was still raw sometimes, the last words between them occasionally rising to burn through him.
And now he’d lost his appetite again, the pizza a boulder in his gut.
“You sure you and Harley are going to be able to work together?” Kennedy asked, her gaze gentling. “Sounds like you guys have some unfinished business.”
Too much, maybe, but he didn’t come back for that.
At least, not with her. “No, the only unfinished business I have is with Mars Sorros. Harley and I—well, we flamed hot, but that spark died years ago, and it’s not going to fire back up.
She’s not sticking around and frankly, getting near the woman .
. . well, I learned that if you get too close, you’re going to get burned.
” He pushed away from the table, the chair scraping the floor, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen.
“I have an early morning. We head out at five.”
Orlando got up, leaned against his leg.
Jericho blew out a breath. “By the way, the lodge looks great, guys. Hudson, wow—Dad always said you were going to follow in his footsteps, and you did.”
Hudson frowned, his gaze flicking to Malachi, then back to Jericho. “We did the best we could,” he said. “It’s been hard. Uncle Wilson helped us a lot, but . . . well, you know how that turned out.”
Jericho nodded, the fact of their uncle’s arrest and the revelation that he’d been a murderer tightening his chest. “Did you get that gennie working?”
“For now. I think the blizzard might hold off, according to the weather, but it’s always good to have backup in case we get snowed in.
That’s just one thing on a massive list though.
” Hudson shook his head, blew out a breath, leaned back.
“Sometimes I feel buried in everything. Malachi is running the outfitter’s store, so he’s got his own avalanche of work.
I probably shouldn’t have started the Eagle’s Nest renovation, but it was either that or tear the place down. ”
Silence. Yeah, that couldn’t happen. Jericho’s chest tightened, Hudson’s words landing like stones. He should’ve been here. But the time to admit that had come and gone. Now, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help while I’m here.”
Hudson raised an eyebrow, then nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “By the way, when we moved from the big house, we stored all your belongings in boxes. They’re in the closet in the guest room, which we sort of left for you, in case . . .” He lifted a shoulder, his gaze softening.
More silence, and Jericho’s chest tightened further, his throat burning. “Right,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Thanks for the pizza, bro,” Malachi said, his voice light. “You saved us from Hudson’s shoe leather.”
Jericho laughed, the sense of it rough in his throat.
“What?” Hudson said, rolling his eyes. “I make a great venison roast.”
Malachi looked at Jericho, shaking his head, his grin widening. “No, he doesn’t.”
“It’s Mom’s recipe.” Hudson glanced at Sully. “Help a guy out?”
Sully made a face, his smirk returning, his gaze flicking to Jericho. “Thanks for the pizza, J,” he said, his voice low, his smile warm. “Glad you’re back.”
Was he back?
He walked through the great room, past the tall stone fireplace, the flickering fire casting shadows on the log walls, the warmth inviting against the wind billowing in the darkness outside.
The great room soared two stories, with beams crossing the vaulted ceiling, the wood polished to a deep shine.
A photo from their parents’ house hung over the mantel, their last family photo, taken two weeks before his graduation.
It stopped him for a second—his dad behind his mom, his hands on her shoulders, her dark brown hair pulled back, her hazel-blue eyes nearly finding him as she smiled.
She stood with her hands on Jericho’s shoulder and Sully’s.
Hudson and Malachi stood together, Hudson’s arm around Malachi’s neck, Malachi with an impish smile. They’d been happy.
And then he’d gone and wrecked everything.
He sighed, his boots scuffing the pine floor, the wind’s howl outside a low moan through the windows. Maybe he didn’t belong back here. And maybe he did have unfinished business—not just with Mars Sorros but with his brothers. Apologies, for sure. And maybe even a way to a fresh start.
But one wound at a time. He’d find Mars Sorros and then, maybe, finally, he could figure out where he truly belonged.