Page 128 of The Rest is History

“You’re not going to throw your weight around here. I don’t give a fuck about what you think or what you’ve done. We survived then and we’ll survive now.”

“Yeah, well. Not with my son.”

I laugh emptily. “Yes, Carter. With your son. He’s not coming back with you, if that’s what you came here for. He’s staying right here with me and my husband.”

Buddy Carter makes a disgusted face. “You people make me sick,” he spits out.

Reece has finally calmed down. He lifts his head from my shoulder. “You need to leave, Dad. If you can’t accept that this is who I am and this is the life I’ve chosen, then you need to leave.”

“You’ll regret this, Reece. You’re just like your mother.”

“I won’t. And yes, I’m just like my mother.”

I grind my teeth. “Get off my property, Carter.”

He sputters, but nothing more comes out of his mouth. Then, he gets into his car and, slamming the door shut, revs the engine and flies off the property, tires squealing as he speeds down the dirt road.

I stay with Reece like that for a long time, and then, I say, “Let’s go inside. This shit is over.”

Sawyer doesn’t ask any questions. He gets three beers out of the fridge and pushes one in each of our hands, and we stand in the kitchen, the three of us, drinking in silence.

Reece is the first to speak. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“You were brave, Reece,” I say.

He nods. “I tried to be.”

“You have your people,” I tell him. “We are your people. And my mom. And Pippin. Faye too. Dotty. You’re not alone, baby.”

“Hold on a sec,” Sawyer says. He leaves the kitchen and returns a minute later. He goes to Reece. “Give me your hand,” he says.

Reece looks at him curiously. I do too.

Sawyer drops a wooden figurine into Reece’s hand. “Happy birthday to Abigail,” he tells Reece. My heart explodes, and tears fill Reece’s eyes.

“A . . . a bee?” he asks in a broken voice.

“It’s a keychain. You said maybe she’d like yellow, and she had bees on her bedroom wall.”

Reece throws his arms around Sawyer’s neck, and I swallow the lump in my throat. My husband is the most wonderful man I’ve ever encountered.

“Thank you, Sawyer,” he whispers.

“You started making this ages ago,” I say, remembering when they sat outside and started on new figurines.

Sawyer smiles. “I took my time. I wanted it to be perfect. For Abby’s birthday.”

Reece holds the keychain up for me to see. “It’s perfect,” he sniffs. Then he looks at Sawyer. “I love you, Sawyer,” he whispers brokenly. But it’s the kind of breaking that feels like healing. Reece is not breaking. He’s healing. And Sawyer has become an important part of that journey.

Sawyer’s eyes find mine. I lean in to kiss his jaw. “How about that, baby?”

He nods and I think he’s trying not to cry. “I love you too, Reece,” he rasps. Then to me, he whispers, “I love you, Ash.”

“I love you, Sawyer.” And to Reece, “I love you, Reece. So very much.”

Reaching into the odds and ends bowl in the middle of the counter, I fish out our set of spare keys and place it in Reece’s palm. “You need your own set of house keys for this keychain,” I say.

He drops his forehead to my chest, and I hold him to me. Sawyer kisses the top of his head and whispers, “This is home, Reece,” and I know that it’s true that we were meant for each other. This was always meant to be. No one could have stopped it. Not even Buddy Carter.

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