Owen
Iwas a coward.
I’d spent the afternoon riding around with Gus, talking through outstanding orders, adding to the list of equipment we planned to sell, and getting a sense of the outstanding maintenance projects we needed to budget for.
It had been a productive day, but I’d done all my work outside the office so I could avoid Lila. Nothing could happen between us, and after I’d gotten swept up in the moment last night, I needed to put some space between us and remind myself of all the reasons I had to stay away.
So when I wrapped up with Gus, I jumped in my car and headed back to the cabin, determined to enjoy what was left of the daylight and avoid any temptation.
But of course, my solitary evening plans were dashed the moment I pulled up to the house.
Finn, who was standing on the small porch of my cabin, gave me a chin tip as I climbed out of my SUV. Gritting my teeth, I tamped down my annoyance and mentally rearranged my evening schedule to accommodate the unexpected visit.
Of all my brothers, I was closest to Finn.
Like me, he’d left home at eighteen. He’d joined the Navy and had become a pilot.
I’d visited him on occasion when he was stationed in Virginia, and he’d come to Boston several times.
He’d always planned on retiring from the Navy, but when his ex and his daughter moved back to Lovewell, he’d finished up his commitment and done the same.
He’d never intended to return either, but he was a devoted dad to my niece Merry and best friends with his ex.
If the move made them happy, then he’d never complain.
It wasn’t Finn’s way. He had the innate ability to roll with the punches rather than tie himself up in knots over things he couldn’t control.
And since he’d returned, he’d found happiness in the most unlikely of places. Now he had fallen madly in love, had another kid on the way, and had recently launched a small business.
“You haven’t come to visit,” he said, his brows pulled low and his arms crossed over his chest. On the surface, Finn was a scary dude.
He was taller than me by a couple of inches, covered with tattoos, and typically kept his long dirty-blond hair tied back in a man bun.
He was perpetually dressed in jeans and flannel and carried himself with the kind of confidence only earned by serving one’s country.
But the asshole was nothing but a golden retriever on the inside.
“Been busy,” I said, carrying yet another box of files into my cabin.
In true retriever style, he followed me right in and kept up with the guilt trip.
“I miss you, brother. I was hoping we could spend some time together.”
I wanted that too. But right now, my head was a mess, consumed with thoughts of Lila.
We’d hugged, and I had held on too long. She had thrown her arms around me in a friendly embrace, and I’d taken it straight to Creepville, especially when I’d pressed my nose to her head and smelled her hair.
God, I was a disgrace.
I was acting like a fool.
And the worst part was that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Like some kind of lovesick teenage boy rather than a thirty-eight-year-old man, I was desperate to see her again, to hold her in my arms and make her smile.
It had been a few years since I’d seen a therapist, but it seemed as though it was time to schedule an appointment. Clearly my mental health was on the decline.
Over and over, I agonized over how my idiot little brother had ever landed her in the first place. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. She was so wonderful. Even worse than how he’d tricked her into thinking he was anything other than a lazy asshole was that he’d let her go.
“Miss you too, man, but I’m barely keeping my head above water with all this work.” It was a mostly legitimate excuse, right?
Finn was not impressed, nor was he accepting my reasoning. “It’s Thursday,” he said. “We’ve got to train. Go change. I’ve got boots for you in my truck.”
“Train for what?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Just hurry up and get changed. The last guy to arrive has to clean up.”
Giving in to my curiosity and my brother’s adamancy, I headed into the small bedroom, unbuttoning my dress shirt as I went. I wanted to be annoyed, but for the first time all day, I found myself pleasantly distracted from my thoughts of Lila.
Whatever Finn was cooking up was probably insane, but if it could get me out of my head, at least for a little while, then I was in.
Once I’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a flannel, I headed outside, where he was waiting at his truck.
He pointed up the hill toward the large timber-style home with a great view of the mountains. Even from down here, it was beautiful. With a nod at the boots on the ground beside him, he said, “Put those on. They were Jude’s, so they should fit you.”
I eyed the worn Timberlands, then my newer New Balances. “I’m good.”
“Nah. Gotta wear a steel toe for this. You’re a thirteen, right?”
With a wary look at Finn, I nodded and snagged them off the ground.
“When in Rome, right?” he said with a grunt.
When in Lovewell, I supposed. Letting out a heavy sigh, I sat on the porch steps and changed into my little brother’s stinky old boots.
Side by side, we made our way up the path toward the big house.
As much as I didn’t want to, it was hard not to admire the view.
The sun was low in the sky, and the mountains were backlit, showcasing the miles and miles of vast forest. Over the years, I’d forgotten just how wild Maine truly was.
I’d grown up here, spent my childhood running wild in these woods, and yet they never failed to amaze me.
“What exactly are we doing?” I asked, jogging to catch up with Finn’s monster strides.
“Training,” he said, shooting me a grin. “Don’t feel bad. The Gagnons are good, but Remy’s a professional, so there’s no keeping up with him. He’s traveling right now, but the rest of the guys still regularly kick my ass. Even the kid.”
Was I walking into some kind of backwoods fight club? Did I care? Maybe a good punch to the nose would knock some sense into me. And in what world could anyone kick Finn’s ass? The prospect of witnessing that alone was worth showing up for.
As we approached the house, the path veered off toward a large barn surrounded by neat raised beds where a few colorful tulips were popping up.
I followed him around the side of the barn to a large shed. Its doors were wide open, and every inch of its walls was filled with axes, mauls, and chainsaws.
On a raised platform outside the shed, several stumps were arranged in a row.
A few feet from the platform was a large gasoline canister.
And the Gagnon brothers.
“I brought Owen,” Finn said, greeting them and turning toward me. “You know, Henri, Pascal, and Tucker?”
I nodded and stepped up close to shake their hands.
“Owen’s been working his ass off, so I figured the least I could do was let him train with us so he can blow off some steam.” He shrugged off his backpack and gave Tucker a fist bump.
The kid tipped his chin, looking cockier than a scrawny boy his size had any right to. “You gonna show us your skills, old man? My dad’s won competitions. He and my uncles are teaching me everything they know.”
Pascal ruffled his hair, his eyes lighting with pride. “This kid is pretty good.”
“My Uncle Remy set a world record this year for speed climbing.” He puffed his chest out and beamed. “But my mom says I can’t use a chainsaw until I’m sixteen.”
“Chainsaws are overrated anyway,” I said. “A real man uses an axe.”
The kid’s already bright smile turned almost blinding in response to that comment.
“My older brother makes incredible art with chainsaws, but for cutting wood, this is so much better.”
Paz gave me a head nod, like maybe I’d said the right thing.
Despite the at-ease front I was putting on, worry plagued me.
I was still wrapping my mind around the Gagnons.
They had every reason to despise us. Hell, it wouldn’t be all that surprising if they each grabbed an axe and attacked.
Our families had hated each other for generations.
What was worse—so, so much worse—was that my dad, a criminal asshole extraordinaire, was responsible for the death of their dad, a beloved community member and loving father.
Rather than taking a swing with a fist or an axe, Henri waved a hand, motioning for me to follow him to the shed. The structure was impeccably organized, and each tool was clean and in good condition.
He pulled a maul from its pegs and handed it to me. “I assume you know what to do with this?” His tone was gruff, but the corner of his mouth quirked up almost imperceptibly behind his bushy beard.
Pascal elbowed him. “Maybe city boy here should start with the kid-size axe Goldie uses.”
“You should talk,” Finn said. “Tell us more about your Italian loafers, Paz.” He slung an arm around my neck. “My brother was born and raised in these woods just like you dumbasses. He’ll do the Hebert name proud.”
I took the maul, thankful I’d put on Jude’s boots after all.
“Okay. Losers buy the drinks and burgers at the Moose on Friday,” Henri said. “Tucker keeps time. Get ready to work, gentlemen.”
I wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. That was a certainty.
I was no slouch. Enzo and I boxed almost every morning, and I’d been running for decades.
But there was no workout like chopping wood.
I’d forgotten just how strenuous it was on the entire body.
Holy shit. I felt three hundred years old as we trudged back to my cabin.
Damn, the Gagnons were freakishly good athletes.
Finn clapped me on the shoulder. “Good job out there. You didn’t embarrass me.”
Biting back a whimper at the contact, I rolled my shoulders. “Tell that to my back. I may not be able to stand tomorrow.”
“Nah, you’ll recover. And we’ll get ’em next week.”
I huffed out a laugh at his ever-present positivity. “What’s the deal with the Gagnons?”
He tossed his backpack into the back of his truck.
“First of all, they’re all madly in love.
That’ll soften a guy up like nothing else can.
Second, they’re good people. Why we spent all those years suspicious of them is a mystery.
” He shook his head. “Actually, it’s not.
We were trained to think that way. Regardless, they embraced me when they had no reason to.
They’re good to each other. They’re protective of Adele, even if she hates it.
And they’ve been nothing but kind and supportive of me. Even gave me a job.”
He wasn’t wrong. They conducted their business honestly and with integrity. From what my brothers had told me, they’d been thrown into a tailspin when they lost their father, as any family would, but they’d rallied around one another.
“Honestly, being part of their family has really changed the way I feel about this town and how I feel about myself.”
I kicked at the gravel beneath my feet. “You have a great support system.”
We did not have emotional conversations.
Ever. We were Hebert men. We’d been conditioned to repress and then repress some more.
But that had never been Finn’s style. As a kid, it had been something for our dad to criticize him about, but now he’d become even more open and honest, and he was damn happy with his life.
“I do.” He dipped his chin. “Alicia, Merry, Adele, and the whole Gagnon family. I’m working on Jude and Gus, but you know them.
I spent so many years hating this place and hating Dad.
It took a while after I came back, but eventually, I let it go.
For Merry and for this new baby, but also for myself. ”
Wiping the sweat still beaded on his brow, he headed for the porch, clearly not ready to leave me to collapse and die a slow, painful death. So I followed, dragging my feet up each step.
Finn sat in one of the Adirondack chairs and put his feet up on the porch rail. “This place is full of so much good if you’re willing to open your eyes and embrace it. You can fixate on all the awful shit and let yourself feel suffocated here. Or you can let it go and liberate yourself.”
A sardonic laugh escaped me as I dropped into the chair beside him. That was easy for him to say. Finn got along with everyone, no matter where he went. He had the kindest heart of all of us, yet he looked like an action movie star and had the kind of skill set that lent itself to backwoods living.
Some of us would suffocate here. And while I used to think he was in that group, it was clear to me now that he belonged in Lovewell, and that he would make this place better.
“Adele and I are carving out our own slice of happy here. I’m not saying you have to do the same. Hell, go find your happy wherever the fuck you want to. But closing yourself off isn’t gonna help you find it.”
God, why couldn’t we just fistfight like we did when we were kids and move on?
His words were so much more devastating than a punch to the face would have been.
I was here to do a job, and when it was done, I’d hightail it back to Boston.
I wasn’t interested in having some kind of emotional evolution like he’d experienced in the last few months.
But my brother was sitting on my porch, offering me a connection.
Something we hadn’t shared in a very long time.
I wanted so badly to reach out and take it.
Tell him what I’d been going through, how agonizing this sale process was for me, and how proud I was of the life I’d built for myself in Boston.
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. He deserved an older brother who was present in his life, who offered support. All of my brothers deserved that from me. My mom too. So why was it so impossible for me to offer it?
He studied my face for a moment under the porch light, his mouth turned down in a disappointed frown. After a beat, when I didn’t speak, he stood. “Better get home to Adele. She may need ice cream, or a foot rub, or a carburetor to take apart.”
I didn’t move as he jogged down the steps. The words still hadn’t come, and I wasn’t sure they would, so I stayed put.
Halfway to his truck, he stopped and turned back to me. “I meant what I said. When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you.”
With that, he hopped into the driver’s seat and drove off. Leaving me feeling both physically sore and emotionally shitty.