Finn
The only way to salvage this weekend was by heading out for a long run.
So I grabbed my weight vest and set off to figure my shit out.
It was humid, and the mosquitoes were already the size of bloated sparrows.
I’d regret not bathing in Deet, but the urge to get out and move was too powerful.
I had a lot going on, and the only remedy I’d find would be through sweat.
I’d learned that back in second grade, when it was impossible for me to sit still. When I couldn’t finish math worksheets or stay in my seat for an entire movie.
My dad’s solution was to scream at me and insist I was stupid. For a long time, that stuck. It wasn’t until much later, when Mom took me for testing, that I learned that this was a part of who I was.
In order to focus, I needed to be challenged. And that usually involved exhausting my body first. I couldn’t think when I was itchy and distracted.
And right now, I had a lot on my mind.
Making my way through town, I doled out kind smiles to everyone I saw and winced when most looked away. I knew what they all said behind our backs. I’d heard the whispers, and I saw the pity in their expressions.
Our family name was mud in this town. Four generations of Heberts in Lovewell and almost a hundred years of providing jobs to the community. In an instant, all the respect our family had earned, all the friendships and goodwill, were gone. Because of my criminal father.
My brothers and I, of course, were tainted by association.
Not that anyone would say it to my face.
My height, the tattoos, and my time in the military took care of that.
People had been intimidated by me since I surpassed the six-foot mark in middle school.
I was used to it. Which was why I always worked to speak softly, always did my best to wear a smile, and always kept my movements slow and subtle.
But now, what was the point? The people of Lovewell, even those I’d known my whole life, only saw the son of a murderer when they looked at me.
I followed the river toward the mountains, leaving the neat rows of houses behind.
The homes were more spread out here. Fewer cars passed, and I didn’t pass a single person.
Here and there, I’d encounter a barking dog behind a fence, but otherwise, my only company were the squirrels that scurried past and up trees and the mosquitoes.
I could deal with this.
The worst part about being in the military was all the running.
When I separated from the Navy, I swore up and down I’d never run again.
I said a lot of stupid shit back then. Yet here I was.
Because running did what no medication could.
It slowed my brain and body down. Plus, it was virtually impossible for a guy my size to be fast, so it was always a humbling experience.
Especially during PT, when 160-pound guys would fly by me, making me feel like a Clydesdale.
Some days, I needed the ego check. Today wasn’t one of those days.
Oh no. Adele Gagnon was the best ego check on the planet.
The United States government should hire her, pronto.
She’d play the perfect bad cop in any diplomatic negotiation.
I could only imagine how quickly peace treaties would be signed if she were berating the world leaders involved.
I laughed to myself. In this daydream, she’d wear a skirt suit. You know, the sort of skirt that’s knee length and conservative but still tight as fuck? Yeah.
Shit. I should not have been thinking about her body.
With a shake of my head, I hoofed it up the hill, set on running until I got Adele out of my head.
She was so intense and beautiful, and she was just mean enough to make me ache for her. There was something wrong with me, because I loved it.
Life was hard, and I had little time for weak people. I respected those who pushed up and through.
And Adele was next level.
On a creeper, her top half hidden under an engine, wearing coveralls that barely hid that round, juicy ass—
Shit, I was thinking about her body again.
Instead of being put off by her prickly personality, I found myself drawn to her.
Sure, she had sharp claws, but buried beneath that was a well of passion, a personality so intense she could probably keep up with me. Nothing she said to me wasn’t deserved. At least she, unlike the cowards who made up the rest of this town, had the stones to be honest with me.
Plus, I had no doubt she was a hellcat in bed. Probably loud and bossy. The kind of woman who would claw the shit out of my back and leave teeth marks all over my body.
Shit, now I was hard. Running in flimsy gym shorts and a weighted vest through town at dusk. Way to be a predator, Finn.
I needed a reality check. And a swift kick in the ass.
Right now, I had to focus on making ends meet, providing for my child, and building the business I’d been dreaming of.
My plans had been derailed, but I’d be a shit sailor if I wasn’t still pushing forward.
The goals I’d set had been delayed, but that meant I had more time to find investors and study the way the local tourism industry was growing.
Flying for the Gagnons would get me more hours in the air and a chance to become even more familiar with the terrain. Avgas wasn’t cheap, and this way, my flight hours and the cost would be on the lumber company’s dime. I’d take every chance I could to fly, prickly bosses or not.
I’d get there. I’d build my business and make Merry proud.
Cresting the hill, I banked around the south side of the river.
Jude would be home, so I headed in his direction.
He was painfully predictable. It drove me crazy, but it suited him perfectly.
He was the quiet, creative one. Always playing his damn guitar or out hiking in the woods with his dog.
He was the complete opposite of Noah, his twin, who was an adrenaline junky.
That kid was always climbing mountains, surfing big waves, or jumping out of planes.
Since birth, he’d been scaring the shit out of my mother almost daily.
He was currently in California, working as a woodland firefighter and ignoring all the family drama back east.
The twins were only four years younger than me, and yet we’d never been close. Despite their differences, they had always had one another and still texted every day. We were lucky if Noah called on Christmas, but Jude always knew what he was up to.
I knocked on the door, and in response, Ripley barked. The mutt was his best friend and protector. Jude had found her in the woods while working at camp last year and had brought her home.
She followed him around endlessly. She’d even tried to climb into the crane with him once. When the door swung open, the first thing I did was give her ears a good rub. She was sociable and affectionate, the exact opposite of Jude.
If a Bernese mountain dog had a baby with a feral wolf, Ripley would be it.
But she was a good girl and took care of my brother, so I couldn’t complain when she jumped on my chest and put her paws on my shoulders.
I didn’t mind that she was the size of a small horse.
Honestly, she was the perfect Hebert-sized dog.
“Running?” Jude asked dryly. His sandy brown hair was cropped short and his round glasses were perched on his nose. Today’s funny T-shirt read: Middle Earth’s Annual Mordor Fun Run and featured a giant eyeball. I wasn’t totally sure what it meant, but it was probably something highbrow and nerdy.
“Yes. You gonna let your big brother in? Maybe offer me a glass of water?”
In response, he shrugged and stepped away.
“Wow. Mom really lowered her standards with you,” I teased, stepping over the threshold.
He punched my shoulder and turned toward the kitchen. Ripley was on his heels the whole way there and sat, watching him with so much love and affection, as he pulled a glass down from the cabinet.
His house was a tiny cape up past the river. He had bought it a couple of years ago, before everything went to shit. It was neat as a pin, as always, displaying his meticulously organized collections of guitars, records, and comic books. It was Jude in every way.
I was proud of all he’d done at such a young age, but it stung a little that my younger brother had become a homeowner before I had.
Back in my Navy days, it had barely crossed my mind.
Moving every couple of years and leaving Alicia and Merry at home while I deployed made renting ideal.
Now, though, I was hitting my mid-thirties and I had a kid.
It was time to plant those roots. And I’d wanted to, but that was yet another plan that had been derailed by my father.
After chugging the glass of water, I refilled it and set it on the counter while I unhooked my weighted vest and hung it on the back of one of the wooden kitchen chairs.
“Gus is headed over with dinner,” Jude said, taking a small stack of white plates out of a neatly organized cabinet. “You should stay.”
Pursing my lips, I waffled. I’d told myself recently that I should spend more time with my brothers. But my day had already been long and unpleasant. The last thing I needed was more arguing.
Things between us all had been strained lately.
There were six of us Hebert boys. Gus was the oldest, and he’d worked side by side with Dad for years.
He’d done everything my father asked of him.
Worked every grunt job and bent over backward to please him in the hopes of someday taking over the company.
Dad, of course, sidelined Gus in favor of his own brother, Paul.
Even so, Gus had remained loyal and dedicated to the business.
Owen was the next oldest, and like me, he’d hightailed it out of Lovewell the day he turned eighteen.
He hadn’t so much as spoken to my father in years, and he rarely came home to visit, despite my mother’s frequent requests.
He’d made a name for himself as an accountant-turned-corporate CFO in Boston.
Then there was me, the middle child. The ADHD nightmare. The Navy had mostly straightened me out, but clearly, I was still a work in progress.
The twins came next, and they had never been particularly close to dad.
Probably because they were so young when our parents divorced.
They’d spent most of their time with Mom, and Dad had always overlooked them, instead giving the majority of his attention and money and love to Cole.
Not that they minded, they did their own thing, which usually involved getting lost in the woods and Noah coming home with some kind of terrifying injury.
And the youngest, my half brother Cole, was off playing hockey.
Not pro. Semi-pro.
Despite the loads of talent he possessed and all the lessons and coaches and expensive equipment my dad had provided over the years, my brother had not been called up to the pros.
After college, he had been drafted by the Boston Blaze in the third round, but he’d spent the last seven years languishing in the minor leagues with a few stints in Europe.
Cole was more likely to be found partying than training, which explained his career stagnation. He wasn’t too far away—Rhode Island, maybe?—but he didn’t take much interest in our family or the business, and I hadn’t seen him in years.
Gus and Jude were close, despite their seven-year age difference. They both worked for Dad and lived for the timber business. Both were still struggling to accept what Dad had done. I was the outsider here, the interloper.
“No thanks.” I shook my head. “Wanted to hydrate before I headed home.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. His eyes were full of sympathy behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Stay and talk to us. We live in the same tiny town, yet I never see you. This place isn’t much, but it’s better than your sad apartment.
Eat pizza, drink a beer. We can start a fire out back later. Come on, stay.”
By the time he’d finished talking, my chest was tight with emotion. Jude was a man of few words, so those few sentences were akin to an epic monologue for him. And it tugged at me. Things had been so strained and awkward. Especially given how differently we all felt about Dad.
“Things have changed so much. We’re not some big happy family…” I said.
Jude put the plates down on the counter with a heavy clank and stared at me. “But why can’t we be? Why can’t we do things on our terms?”
I shrugged, searching for the words to formulate a response, but he wasn’t finished.
“For so many years, we lived in Dad’s shadow and under his control. You’re not the only one spinning right now, Finn. We’re all fucked up over this.”
He was right, of course. I was struck with a bolt of white-hot shame at his call-out.
I had been so in my head, so obsessed with the impact of Dad’s actions on Merry and on myself, that I’d failed to check in with my brothers.
Their careers—hell, their entire lives—had been built around Dad and Hebert Timber. They had even more to lose than I did.
Jude shuffled to the back door to let Ripley out. “Think about it. For so many years, he controlled us. Tried to mold us into what he wanted us to be. Lashed out when we didn’t meet expectations.” He shook his head. “Now, though? We’re free of him.”
I regarded him, and he watched me just as intently as we let those words hang in the air between us.
Somewhere within me, the scared eleven-year-old who’d gotten yet another bad report card was letting out a sigh of relief.
The eighteen-year-old who’d been screamed at for enrolling in ROTC let his shoulders relax a little.
Those versions of me and so many more had borne so much anger and disappointment from him.
Maybe Jude was right. Maybe we were free.
But freedom came at a cost. It always did.
And I had a feeling we’d be paying for a long time.