Chapter 45
you can have this
Rowan
Most of the VFW crowd has cleared out in the couple of hours since the service ended. My family, squad mates, Hannah, and Lydia are all that remain.
Tan berets lay haphazardly on the patio table among an array of empty beer bottles. The guys chatter on about some nonsense, but I can’t stop watching the women on the other end of the deck. Mom, Bri, Hannah, and Lydia lost in their own little world of girl talk.
Lydia doesn’t look any healthier than the last time I saw her, but she smiles, and Hannah’s face lights up like the most beautiful game of call and response. Richard got called in for a consult at the children’s hospital a little while ago, so Hannah and I will need to drive her home tonight.
“Shocked you still fit into your uniform, Shaw,” my fellow soldier, Tucky, chirps. “Figured you’d let yourself go after you left us.”
Then Sweets. “Sorry we were almost late, bro. Someone gave us shitty directions.”
“Not my fault your GPS sucks balls,” Dubs supplies.
My buddy, Taz, who’s had my six more times than I can count, says, “The rest of the squad really wished they could be here.”
I dismiss the comment, knowing all too well the challenges of an entire unit getting simultaneous leave approval. “I get it. I appreciate you guys making the trip. Means a lot.”
Hannah appears at my side, collects all the empty bottles. I wrap an arm around her waist from my seat. “You don’t have to do that, baby.”
“When are you gonna introduce us to your girl, Shaw?” That’s Lucy.
The girl in question snorts as she tosses a few bottles in the recycle bin.
“Depends,” I say. “You assholes gonna behave?”
They all snicker and I tip back my beer, floating an accusatory finger at each of them. Keep it PG, fellas.
“Hannah, this is Tucky, Lucy, Sweets, and Taz. Guys, this is Hannah.”
“Hi, Hannah,” they all reply in unison.
She offers a shy wave. “Are your real names as confidential as your work?”
“No, ma’am,” Tucky says, extending a hand across the table. “Name’s Rory. Boys call me Tucky ‘cause I hail from the great state of Kentucky.”
Next up is Noah. “Noah Sweet. Pleased to meet you. I’m Sweets.”
“And I’m Carter. These pricks call me Lucy ‘cause they have a death wish.”
All at once, we singsong, “Lucy in the sky with diamonds.”
Lucy just shakes his head, throws us the middle finger. “Apparently it’s a crime to enjoy a little bling when I’m not in uniform.”
Hannah chuckles and reaches a hand to the last brother on my right.
“Tyler,” he offers. “I’m Taz because—”
“Because we watched the dude take down four men by himself in a bar fight. Goddamn Tasmanian devil, this one,” Dubs cheers with a proud Hooah war cry on the end that we all echo.
Taz dips his head, looks back to Hannah. “Trust me, ma’am, those drunks deserved it.”
I pull Hannah onto my lap as the guys carry on, joking around and throwing jabs. A glimpse of Bri from the corner of my eye pulls my attention. She walks through the trees toward the dock by herself. A glance over my shoulder reveals Mom and Lydia deep in conversation.
Tapping her thigh, I offer Hannah my seat while I go after my stepsister.
Bri doesn’t hear me closing in until the last minute. She quickly swipes under her eye before turning to face me.
“Hey.” The greeting is peppier than those tears made it look.
I take the rocking chair next to her. “Everything okay?” She bobs her head but keeps her gaze on the water. “You’re a terrible liar.”
A heavy pause sits in the air as she works out a response. “It’s weird being here. I never really had a clear picture of where you went all those summers when I was little.” She looks at me with a sad smile. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “I love it here.”
Her eyes hold mine, a well of emotion stirring under the surface of what she’s about to say. “Tess is gonna be fine, Rowan. Her brain scans are good, her therapy is progressing, and her surgery schedule is promising. She will make a full recovery.”
“I know.” I say it, though I don’t sound very convincing.
It’s a platitude at best. I know Mom’s medical team is trustworthy.
Bri’s a doctor and she’s family—I should trust her even more.
But it all feels too slow, and I can’t help the doubt that creeps in.
The fear that things will never be like they were before Mom’s accident.
And worse, I may never know peace enough again to leave her to live alone in a house that’s falling apart.
Bri levels me with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Now you’re the liar.
” She settles deeper into the rocker. “I overheard your conversation in the kitchen earlier. Your dad’s flag and your parents’ dream of building a house out here.
” She folds her arms across her front making her look small.
Too small. “I’m sorry you never got that. ”
“Got what, exactly?”
She gestures broadly. “This. The picture-perfect family and home your parents wanted.”
I hear it now. The blame she’s taken upon herself. Before I can respond she continues.
“She never talks about your dad with me.” She sniffs, unable to hide the pain anymore.
“I don’t blame her. Truly. He was obviously the love of her life and to lose all of this when he died…
I don’t think I understood the extent of what you both lost before today.
Tess deserves good things and I’m sorry she never—”
“Hey,” I cut her off. “Don’t do that.”
Her hands paw at her cheeks. “Ugh, you’re not supposed to be consoling me today.”
“No, stop.” I roll my lips and take a deep breath. “I do love this place. And, yes, I miss my dad, and I know Mom loved him very much. But she loved your dad, too. Still does.”
She scoffs a wet, disbelieving laugh.
“Bri.” I tug on her arm until she looks at me. “I love your dad.”
Her head shakes as she pulls her gaze away.
Jaw working, her expression falls lifeless over the lake.
For the first time, I see today through her eyes.
This may have been a funeral, but life crackles in every nook and cranny of this place.
Roots of family and legacy around every corner.
Roots that are as much Mom’s as they are mine.
And Bri carries guilt as though she and her dad somehow play second fiddle to it all.
“I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I love Doug.” It’s the most honest thing I can offer without opening the Pandora’s box that is her father.
None of us know where Doug is. We don’t know if he’s alive or dead. If he’s managed to get clean or if he’s still using. He left all of us.
He left his daughter.
But I’ll always love him. For the joy he brought to Mom’s life after we lost Dad. For how effortlessly he made me feel like his own alongside Bri.
They’re only words, though. It doesn’t matter how much Mom and I tell her we love and miss him. Or all the times we’ve told her he’s just sick, he’s not a bad person. Bri shuts down same as she always does.
She rises to her feet. “What I’m getting at is you can have this, Rowan. The house, the woman, the family. Your mom will recover—I can promise you that. And you won’t have to stay in North Carolina forever.” Dodging my eyes, she moves to leave. “That’s all I was trying to say.”
I rush over, grab her wrist before she gets too far. One gentle pull and I fold her into my chest. Her arms hang loose at her sides, but I don’t let go. One breath…two…three until she finally returns the embrace.
“There’s something else, you know,” I say, shifting back a step.
“What’s that?”
“I love you.”
Her lips twist, biting back another display of emotion, but she doesn’t look away from me this time. On a sigh that carries the weight of the world, she replies, “Yeah, love you too.”
We move in sync as we turn toward the cabin. I wrap an arm around her shoulder and tug her to my side, planting a kiss on the crown of her head.
“You told her how you feel yet?” Bri’s sidelong gaze and crooked grin swing up at me.
“You told Dubs you’re crushing on him yet?”
She gasps, shoving me so hard I nearly fall off the dock. “Oh my god, you’re delusional!”
“I think the lady doth protest too much.”
We make it to the deck in time to catch Dubs mid-shenanigan, bottle of tequila in one hand, Bluetooth speaker in the other. Behind him is Hannah balancing ten shot glasses in her arms. She catches my eye and mouths, “I tried to stop him.”
“Great, you guys are back. Time for a toast,” Dubs announces, clearing space on the table.
There’s a quick exchange over who needs to drive later. Ultimately, we all agree we’re not going anywhere for several hours, leaving plenty of time for everyone to sober up.
Mom turns down Dubs offer, claiming liquor makes her queasy.
“Fair enough,” he concedes. “What about you, doll? We haven’t officially met.”
Lydia returns his charmed smile. “Lydia. I’m Hannah’s mom and no shot for me, thank you. But you kids have fun.”
Dubs lines up the glasses. “I’ll allow it on one condition, Lydia.”
“I’m listening.”
“You save me a dance at that gala on Friday night.” He winks at Hannah’s mom, turns to Bri. “Bridge, honey, don’t be jealous, okay? I swear it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Hey, Chuck?” Bri asks.
Dubs’ mouth quirks. “Yes, carino?”
“Shut up and pour the shots.”
My friend does what he’s told with a soldier’s salute.
“Glasses up,” Dubs orders. “To the brotherhood. To the ones who weren’t able to be here with us today, and to the brothers we’ve lost. Hooah.”
Tucky, Sweets, Lucy, Taz, and I all echo the sentiment before Hannah and Bri join in as we tip the shots back. The glasses land on the table with a unified thunk.
Another round is poured before the burn of the first has worn off.
“And this one,” Dubs begins, our shots lifted, “to Michael and Norman Shaw and Doug Evans.”
Bri’s head snaps to my best friend at the mention of her dad. She probably assumes I put him up to it, but this has Walker Willis written all over it—he’s good all on his own.
The two of them share a loaded look before Dubs continues. “Three men responsible for raising this idiot”—he points his shot at me—“into the badass man he is. One hell of a soldier, but an even better friend.”
My squad lifts their glasses higher in approval. I nod once. Anything more and I might crack.
“To them,” Dub says, everyone echoes.
Shots are thrown back, glasses discarded on the table. Hannah squeezes my hand and moves to leave, but I pull her back. “Where are you going?”
“I was gonna take my shoes off, my feet are killing me. That okay, soldier?”
I know how needy I sound, but I’m thankful she doesn’t call me out on it. She sits down next to our mothers and works the small clasp around her ankles.
To nobody’s shock, Dubs is still talking. He props the speaker on the table. “Alright, boys, time to celebrate. And I have it on good authority Norm loved this one.”
My narrowed eyes meet his you know you love me grin. He presses play on his phone. Beer bottles clink around me as the wave of memories wash over us all. All the times I blasted this song to lift our spirits. A song I grew up listening to with Nana and Pops.
A song I danced to in a dive bar with the woman across the deck who was barely more than a beautiful stranger at the time.
Four plucked guitar strings and Hannah’s gaze lifts to mine, her show-stopping smile a cupid’s bow straight to my heart.
The guys belt out the lyrics behind me, reliving the glory days of nights we acted like fools singing it on post or wherever else we might have been on the globe when we craved a little taste of home.
But my head’s not there with them right now. It’s with the hazel-eyed, barefoot woman staring back at me.
I crook my finger, meet her in the middle of the deck. I pull her flush against me, a hand on her lower back. “You remember how to two-step, runaway?”
She curls her fingers around the hair at my nape. “Norm and I practiced a few times.”
I love you so much.
“In that case, I won’t go easy on you. Try and keep up.”
“Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”
Garth Brooks starts on about friends in low places while I take the lead.
My buddies alternate dancing with Bri and Lydia.
Mom manages a few spins around the deck with Dubs bearing most of her weight before she needs to rest again.
And when she locks eyes with me over Hannah’s shoulder, her full-faced smile is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.
I don’t know if it’s from watching the celebration or seeing me this content or merely being back in this place again that causes it.
So many questions remain unanswered, recovery timelines murky and unpredictable. There’s sure to be obstacles and challenges ahead, but I’ll be damned if that familiar hope doesn’t drop like an anchor in my chest anyway.