Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
MACKENZIE
“I haven’t found too much on this Nathaniel dude yet,” Jordan drawls, leaning back with a cocky smirk that makes it clear he’s enjoying the hunt more than the actual result.
“You’re wasting your time. He’s perfectly harmless.” After Nate’s and my morning talk, I’m even more convinced he’s honorable. I pull into Mom’s driveway, my nerves already frayed after spending just one day with Jordan. It’s been years since I’ve seen my brother, but evidently, not enough time has passed to soften his knack for testing my patience.
“It would help if I knew where he grew up. I’d know who to contact.”
“San Francisco.” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. The last thing I need to do is fuel my brother’s paranoia.
Jordan’s eyes narrow, and his chin lifts upward with that cocky arrogance that always manages to send a shiver down my spine. I don’t ask about his contacts. Some things are better left unknown. And, trust me, Jordan hung around some shady characters growing up.
“I heard Caleb Stubbs’ a detective now. I could have him?—”
“No! Don’t you dare. That’s not his job. Besides, you’re not even close to the Stubbs. ”
“Fine, but I’m getting as much info as possible.”
Wanting to change the subject, I say, “Mom will return in a few weeks. Be sure the house looks decent.”
He shoots me a look that says, yeah, right. I hold back a sigh. “Speaking of cleaning, did you straighten the house today?” I ask, knowing the answer. Jordan’s housekeeping skills are nonexistent. But my perfectly cleaned house has been a mystery. My clothes aren’t just folded; they’re folded with department store precision. And the kitchen? Spotless. It’s enough to make Mr. Clean jealous.
“Come on. It hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen each other. You surely don’t think I’ve suddenly transformed.” He flashes me his signature cocky grin.
“No. I just thought I’d ask.” A small part of me had hoped my mystery maid had been Jordan. At least then, I wouldn’t feel so bad for going ballistic on Nate. Could I sink any lower with this guy? No, I don’t think so. The man rushed over in a pinch, watched my kids, and straightened my house. He’s undoubtedly thoughtful and did an excellent job handling the boys, who talked nonstop about him during breakfast. There’s so much more to the man than I first saw.
And I freaking went ballistic on him.
What is wrong with me?
“So why are you really back? I know it isn’t just for me.”
“That hurts, sis.”
“That’s reality, bro.”
“Fine.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I plan on fixing my car while I’m here.” His car being a 1970 Plymouth Roadrunner. He’s kept it stored in Stan’s garage for years.
“No kidding? Liam would love that. He drools every time he goes out to the garage with Stan.”
“I’ll have him help me.”
“He’d like that. There haven’t been too many opportunities for him to do those types of things.”
Silence descends upon us. After a beat, Jordan nudges my knee playfully with his fist. “I am sorry about Ethan. I may not have liked him, but I didn’t wish this to happen to you or the kids.”
My lips flatten to a thin line as I give him a nod. Regret and guilt coil together like a snake squeezing tighter as I think about the walls I’ve built to keep everyone at arm’s length. A pang of sorrow flickers, reminding me how much I’ve lost and still hold back. But damn it, why is it the moment I let my guard down and feel good about Nate, reality slaps me in the face? I don’t know if this guilt will ever fade. It’s not a secret Ethan and Jordan didn’t get along. Just like oil and water, they didn’t mix. Ethan was all about discipline and toeing the line. Jordan, not so much. I always describe him as free-spirited, but that’s me being nice.
“Thanks. I won’t lie. It’s hard, but I’ve been raising these boys on my own since birth. Military wife, after all.”
“You always were the strong one.”
That causes the corners of my mouth to rise. Through all his faults, Jordan has always been a charmer. “Don’t forget that.”
Jordan opens the car door and steps out. Keeping his hands on the roof, he ducks down, his expression serious. “I’ll get back with that information.”
I shake my head and concede. It’s useless to fight him. He won’t listen. “Whatever makes you feel better.”
“Strong-willed or not, I can’t have someone taking advantage of my sister.”
“I’ve missed you,” I admit. Because I have. Everyone needs their big brother. Flaws and all.
“I’ve missed you too, sis.”
I drive home after Jordan collects his tote from my back seat and ducks into Mom’s house. During the entire ride, Jordan’s words played through my head. I am strong, but I don’t always want to be. It’s hard always being “on.” Sometimes, I just want to be protected. Like the night during one of Ethan’s deployments. A storm had knocked out the power, and I’d been scared out of my mind trying to calm a feverish Liam by candlelight. Ethan had laughed it off when he came home, saying I’d handled it just fine. But that night, all I’d wanted was for someone to take over, to tell me it would be okay. I never got that, not then, not ever. Is that so much to ask? To not have to make all the daily decisions. Guilt overwhelms me. I knew what I was getting into when I married Ethan. I knew his job would take him away. I knew he’d be the one to sign up for any and every mission he could. He was an adrenaline junkie, always looking for the next high. His high just happened to be jumping out of airplanes and partaking in covert missions. But knowing all that and living it were two different things.
I need to go through some of the storage boxes when I get back home. It’s time to settle into our new life here, and I’m not looking forward to it.
“Were the kids any trouble?” I ask Ms. Norfolk. Millie seems to be more winded today.
“No, they were perfect angels. I’m only tired due to my age.”
“Mom won’t be back for a few weeks. If you need me to find someone else, I can.”
“No, honey. The boys are no problem. They’re helping me with the garden.”
“Mommy, come look at the pretty flowers we planted.” Nick’s bubbly joy relaxes me. They do love it here.
“Sure, sweetie. We’ll take a look as we go home.” Anything to deter me from the task hanging over my head. I turn to my neighbor. “Thanks again.”
After looking at the rows of chrysanthemums and asters outlined by summer phlox, I can see why Ms. Norfolk was tired. The kids and she planted quite a bit.
“When these flowers bloom, there will be a rainbow of purples,” Nick says, eyes vibrant.
“I can’t wait to see.” I open the front door and step aside as they pile in. “If you want to play video games until supper, that’s fine. I want to dig through the boxes and pull out some décor. The house seems bare.”
Liam gives me a side-eyed glance. “You sure, Mom?”
The corners of my lips pull into a smile. I don’t know what I did to deserve this kid, but he always looks out for me.
“I’m okay. I’ll throw in a pizza for supper.”
“Okay.” He nods and heads over to the game console. After setting the stove’s timer, I stalk to my bedroom, ready to tackle the daunting task of unpacking.
I can do this.
I repeat this mantra, but all bravado dies when I step through the door and spy the moving boxes. It takes everything I have to march to the one package that’s been holding me hostage. I pull the small box out and run my hands along the edges. Part of me wants to put it back and hide it away with the other boxes I have no intention of opening today. But the rational side tells me I need to face this. I can’t move forward until I face reality. The reality that all that’s left of my husband fits inside this little box feels like a cruel joke. I can still hear his laugh in the kitchen when he tried to teach me how to cook scrambled eggs without burning them, the way his hands felt warm and steady on my shoulders when he’d return home. Those moments are gone, reduced to this box, and its weight feels unbearable.
I suck in a breath and take the box cutter to the tape. My heart pounds as my fingers trace along the flaps and open them. A square piece of red felt sits on top, wrapped by a gold thread. I don’t have to unwind the ribbon to know what it contains, but my gargled gasp is automatic when I reveal Ethan’s wedding band. I pick up the ring and run it between my fingers as the threatening tears spill over. Oh, God, give me strength.
Why Ethan? Why did this happen? We were supposed to have one last scene together—one more act. I close my eyes, holding the ring close to my heart. We never got to carry out our final plan.
I return his ring in the box and riffle through the remaining items. His cell phone, which I’m sure has been wiped clean. A lighter that puzzles me since Ethan never smoked. A picture of the kids I sent last year. I freeze when I spot a folded piece of paper at the bottom. I pick it up, confused at seeing my name scrawled across the top. No, no, no. This can’t be what I think it is.
We watched a chick flick once. I had to make him. He loathed watching romance movies, but this particular movie had a few action-packed scenes, and the main character was in the army, so he complied. In one scene, the soldier wrote a last letter to his wife. Ethan scoffed and said that doesn’t happen in real life. I can still hear his words. “Not only is it a pussified thing to do, but it’s considered bad juju.” He ruined everything.
As I stare at the letter, I wonder if he wrote these before every mission or just this particular one. I clutch the paper tighter, unable to read his last words as the guilt burrows deeper. God, I wish I loved him more.
“Mom, I forgot to tell you I found out when soccer sign-ups are.” Liam comes barreling into the room. I shove the letter into the small box and blink the wetness away.
“Yeah?” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. I can’t believe I dropped the ball on finding that out. “When are they?”
“This Saturday at the park. Some guy stopped by Ms. Norfolk’s house and told me. Can you sign me up?”
“Yeah. I don’t work Saturday.”
“Yes! How long is Uncle Jordan going to stay? Will he be here for my birthday?”
God, I’m a terrible mother. How could I also forget about his upcoming birthday? “I don’t know, honey. But I’m sure he’ll still be around here.”
“Are you mad at Nate?”
I blow out a breath. “You mean Mr. Dixon? No. I didn’t like the fact he had a gun, but I spoke to him about that.”
“Dad had guns.”
“I didn’t like that either.”
Liam shrugs. “I like Nate . . . Mr. Dixon. ”
“Yeah? I like him too.” He respects my wishes.
“Will he be back?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. I’m not sure there will be a need for him to come over.” I ignore the weird pang in my chest that thought causes.
“He listened.”
I turn to face my son. He stands near the doorway, his expression all too serious for a ten-year-old. “What do you mean?”
“When I talked. Nate listened to me. Dad never did.” He looks down at the ground as if ashamed to admit that. My heart breaks.
“Your dad was . . .” Selfish comes to mind, but I shouldn’t think that way. That isn’t fair to say when Ethan isn’t here to defend himself. No matter how accurate the words are. But he did leave a letter. “Your dad was busy and had a lot on his mind.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Wishing you spent more time together is perfectly normal.”
“I just . . . I don’t know. Sometimes, I felt like Dad didn’t want us to bother him.”
Oh boy.
I walk over to my son, hug him, and kiss his head. Then, I back up just enough to look him in the eyes. “He loved you. Sometimes, people have a hard time expressing themselves. They don’t know how to show how much they care. But never doubt his love for you.”
Liam nods, his eyes filled with so many emotions that my heart hurts. Our discussion took an unexpected turn into Heavyville, but he obviously needed reassurance. I may sugarcoat Ethan’s actions, but I believe what I’m saying. Ethan loved his kids but didn’t want to bear the responsibility that came with them. The stove’s timer dings, shutting down our conversation.
“Let’s eat, shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Liam backs away but turns toward me as he reaches the hallway. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too. ”
Then, he bolts from the room to get his brother. With a heavy heart, I grab the box and place it on my dresser. I look at it and then back at my ring finger. My chest constricts as I slide my wedding ring off. The small diamond chip blurs through the wetness in my eyes. The ring wasn’t much, but it was all we could afford then. Ethan promised to buy a different one but never followed through, like so many of his promises. Not that I ever cared about the diamond size. It’s what the band represents that matters most to me. I take a deep breath and place the band inside the box with Ethan’s. As for Ethan’s last words, I’ll have to work myself up for that task. Not enough time has passed to read words he should’ve said years ago. But maybe those words could hold something I need, a silver of closure or a truth I’ve been avoiding. Even so, the thought of facing them now feels like reopening a wound that hasn’t fully healed.