Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
boston
“I’ll only ask once.”
I shut my eyes, leaning back against the headrest of Lowesy’s passenger seat.
We had a deal, you asshole.
“How about you don’t ask at all?”
“Once. I promise,” he continues, and I feel the weight of his stare as he examines the side of my face. “Are you okay?”
Not the question I was expecting, but just as bad as the one I was. I hate that question. I don’t know why. It always makes this uncomfortable lump of emotion get stuck in my throat. It’s three simple words, but it’s the most vulnerable and loaded question in the world.
I don’t even know what the word ‘okay’ means. I am not quite sure I’ve ever been ‘okay.’
“Yeah.” I stare out at the road rather than at him. Easier that way. “Just family shit, Lowesy. You know how it goes.”
He nods, but says nothing. I think it’s because he doesn’t know how it goes, and he doesn’t want to say that.
He’s never had to endure family shit like I have.
The only people who might remotely understand are Arden Doll, Forker’s girlfriend, and Eleanor Lemon, my closest friend.
They’ve got years and years of trauma, just like me.
We should get matching friendship bracelets.
“I’m just going to remind you nicely that I’m always here to talk,” Declan says, and I dip my chin.
No point in arguing. This brotherhood thing relies on these conversations and these reminders.
I know I could call him in the middle of the night, say I need him, and he’d be at my door in seconds.
“And that, as I was told once by some idiot with a buzzcut and ten screws loose: we don’t let each other suffer in silence. ”
I chuckle under my breath. Basket case, Carter Forkerro, but ridiculously good heart.
“It’s just the usual shit,” I say, which is honest. It doesn’t surprise me anymore, but it never stops feeling so heavy, either. “Which means I have Kane up my ass multiple times a day. I’m just tired, man. That’s all. I’m good.”
Declan nods, pulling onto the dark road I live on.
I study the acres and acres of lush, green grass, which can only look like this through the hard work and dedication of people like me.
People who care. People who get their hands dirty.
People who need a purpose. This entire stretch of road brings me a strange sense of serenity, knowing I built a purpose at the end of it, all on my own.
It’s confirmation that I am not a victim of my circumstances. I came out on the other side.
“Lucky wants to host a dinner,” he says, and I finally look at him. I’m all ears now that we’re not talking about me. “You free on Saturday? It’s for our wedding party. We want to go over some plans with everyone. If you can’t make it, I can fill you in afterward. The crew will be in town.”
The crew. His friends. That means a weekend with Seth Tyler and EJ Dalton, both absolute beauties. Wyatt Caulfield is a part of that crew, too, but he moved here a couple of years back and feels like more of a friend of mine now, rather than just a friend of Lowesy’s.
It also means the girls will be here. Avery Oliver and Penelope Sweeten in a room together is the best kind of bad news. Add in Tiffany and Lauren? Pure, unrelenting chaos. Take cover.
So, of course, I have to see it. Sign me the hell up for that madness.
“I’ll be there,” I tell him.
He smiles. “Perfect. She’ll be happy to hear that.”
“You aren’t happy to hear that?” I bite back a smirk. I’m not Penny’s groomsman. I belong to him.
Dec shrugs, turning down my long, tree-covered driveway.
“I’m just trying to survive here, man. I can’t even remember what she wanted to go over, but I value my life too much to ask.
What I do know is that my part involved getting you guys there.
She made little table settings with your names on them and everything. ”
I smile gently. It’s sweet. They’re sweet. Never seen my boy in love before, but the first time I ever saw him look at her, I knew it was over for the rest of the female population. There was no shot for anyone else. Not with her in the world.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for the wedding and I can’t wait to marry the fuck out of that woman, but her stress makes me stressed, and I fear we won’t make it two more months without her combusting into flames.
” He lets out a sigh, adjusting his hat on top of his dark hair.
“Can’t really win another cup if I’m cremated before the season starts, can I? ”
I chuckle, reaching across to smack my hand onto his shoulder. “Let me know if you need a hand with anything. Literally anything. Table settings included. I’ll make myself available. Extend the message to Penny.”
Dec dips his chin. “Thanks, Boss, but I don’t think she’d relinquish power to anyone unless she has a shoulder-length bob and two last names.”
Avery Oliver Tyler. The half of Penny’s heart that isn’t made up of Declan Lowes.
Lowesy pulls up next to my truck, bringing me right to my door like a perfect gentleman. I glance at him. “You better tell Forker three times a day about these plans, and four times the morning of. You know him, he might not show up.”
Declan barks a laugh.
Carter missed a poker night that Declan had planned.
It was a ruse to ask us to be his groomsmen.
Carter was upset about the woman he was pretending to date, who he is now dating for real, so he forgot about it altogether.
I know. I’m surrounded by idiots. Anyway, we’ve never let him live it down.
He wears his shame like a wounded child and it’s absolutely hysterical to watch.
Lowesy doesn’t actually have to worry, and we both know that. Forker would never miss another event unless he was buried six feet under.
It’s just funny to wind up The Beast.
We say our goodbyes and I trudge up the steps to the house.
I take a quick glance out back, listening for the normal hustle and bustle of the animals.
I don’t have a farm in the typical sense.
Sure, I’ll get my eggs from the hens, but I’m not running this place for an income or as a homestead.
I’m not killing anything for meat or fur.
I just like animals and having something to do.
Lowesy once called this place The Land of the Misfits, and he’s right.
I scowled at him, like I was offended, but the title does fit.
I tend to adopt animals that wouldn’t otherwise be given a chance elsewhere.
I have a dog with three legs, a rooster who lost his voice and it never returned, and a cow with a personal vendetta against the colour purple.
They are misfits. We are misfits. So yeah, the title can stay.
Welcome to Misfits Farm, everybody.
Hanging my keys by the door, I kick off my shoes and run a hand over my face.
It’s the off-season, so I’m not bogged down and worn out from hockey.
It’s life’s turn for that. I hate these months, despite the nice weather.
Not having hockey to exhaust me leaves me unfulfilled and stir crazy.
I know I have the farm, and it will keep me busy, but there’s nothing that quiets my head more than weeks filled with games.
I fish out my phone as I drag myself into my spacious living room and drop onto the sofa.
Kane. So many missed calls.
I ignored them.
I open our text thread. I almost find it funny that the last time he texted me was a year and a half ago, and it was regarding the exact same thing he’s texting me about now. What a lovely relationship we have.
Kane
Still no sign of them. Anyone call you?
Why would they? I don’t think I’m either of their emergency contacts. I haven’t seen Mom or Dad in well over a decade.
Me
Nothing. Did you file a report?
Probably the fiftieth one that one of us has filed with the police in our lives.
I’ve stopped worrying. I used to. But this cycle became too painful and too damaging, so I cut out my ability to care.
I just…stopped one day. I can’t worry about them, about what they’re doing, wondering if they’re still breathing.
I wait each day for the final phone call.
The one telling me the waiting is over. They’re gone now.
Permanently. But I don’t worry anymore. I just wait.
It’s easier for me. I’m far away, in another country. I can cut the worry off way easier than my brother can. Miller was able to do that when he was ten. Unfortunately, Kane is the best of the Black children. He is on the front lines. He always cared the most, anyway.
Four weeks with no word or sighting of dear old Mom and Dad.
The only thing more heartbreaking than seeing your loved ones in the throes of addiction is suddenly not seeing them at all.
Then, you have to wonder. Then, you spend every second scrutinizing every face on the street, seeing them in each and every one for a brief moment.
You slam on the brakes when you see someone with the same walk, the same bump in their nose, when you see a side profile that looks slightly like theirs.
You can’t breathe until you confirm they’re okay again.
Life seems to pause for you, but the world keeps spinning.
I’m sympathetic toward Kane, because someone has to be. Miller has long since stopped considering himself a member of the Black family at all. Kane has Remi, his wife, and he has his kids, but nobody who gets it like I do. Nobody who actually knows the people he’s looking for. Deeply. Personally.
Kane
Just did. Will keep you posted.
He will. He’ll drive me crazy about it. He’ll text non-stop until he finds them and then I won’t hear from him for months, until they do this again.
I’m not sure why he thinks I want to be involved in this.
I don’t. I do it for him because I think he needs me to be there for him when shit gets this bad.
I don’t want this tie to my family. Again, I cut that string of emotion off years ago.
He and his wife could never tell me anything else about our parents, and I’d be happy with that.
But since it gets Kane to talk to me, I let it continue. I might not worry about my parents anymore, but I will always worry about him. He’s my little brother. The only one I have left.
I send a thumbs up in response. He texts again almost instantly.
Kane
I’ll call the morgue in the morning.