Page 115 of All We Need

“Could you get some water?I’llhelp him sit,”Isay toQuinn, who disappears asIguideMartinto the nearest chair.

He pants for air and, after a few deep breaths, finally talks. “I’ms-so sorry,Ales—”Quinnreturns, and he downs half the glass before resuming. “Theignition on my truck blew andIforgot to charge my cell overnight.”Heshakes his head in annoyance. “I’mso sorry.”

Quinn might be a chatterbox, but something aboutMartin’spitiful expression has her creeping away quietly.

I encourage him to drink more, and then it hits me.

He didn’t blow me off.

“Wait,”Igasp. “Didyou walk here?”

Sheepishly, he nods. “IfIcould run,Iwould have been here sooner.”Hecups his knee. “Notas good as it used to be.”

Martin’s farmhouse is on the outskirts of town, a fifteen-minute drive away.Meaninghe walked the entire way, as fast as he could, just to get here.

To meet me.

He wanted to be here.

My brain struggles to compute this information.

“If you need to go,I’llunderstand.Maybeanother time,” he says softly.

I’m due at the restaurant in—Iglance at my watch—five minutes.

I’d accepted his absence and now that he’s here,Idon’t know how to respond.AsIstudyMartin’srueful expression, that kernel of hope regrows.

SuttonBayisn’t permanent, and whenIfirst arrived, it seemed pointless to make any connections.I’mstill cautious, but less skeptical, so likeIdid withQuinn,Ilower my guard. “Ihave time for another coffee.”

His eyes flare before he schools his features.

Quinn’s takes his order, and five minutes later we both have our hands cupped around steaming mugs.Thesilence thatstretches between us is delicate; one wrong move and it will collapse.Ifthis were an investment pitch, my voice would dominate.I’mnot pitching anything now—or maybeIam.Eitherway,Ispeak with conviction. “Iknow it’s only been a few days since we last spoke, but have you found out any information about your ex-wife and son?”

“Wife,” he corrects solemnly. “Wenever divorced.”

I don’t react.

“You must thinkI’man awful man for not knowing of their whereabouts, but whenJudyleft and tookHarveywith her,Itried to maintain contact.Harveyvisited occasionally, but when he started high school, the visits stopped.Resentmenthad me working myself to the bone, and eventually she asked me to give it my all or stop altogether.”I’mstunned at the sudden vat of information he reveals. “Tothis day, it’s my biggest regret.Afteryou left my house,Ireached out to an old friend who, let’s just say, knows how to find people.He’stracked them both down.”

Tremors vibrate through my body, the five-second pause feeling like a lifetime.

“Judy lives inMilwaukee, andHarvey…”Myfingers squeeze the handle of my cup. “Helives inGreenBaywith his wife and owns a construction company with his son.”

I have another brother.

There’s a lot of information to unpack and the weight of it all immobilizes me, leaving only my vocal chords intact. “Didyou speak to him?”

His gaze flicks over my face, searching for emotion.Hewon’t find any.I’vedesensitized myself for this moment.Theodd sense of grief of losing somethingInever truly had.

“Please don’t drag this out,”Iwhisper harshly. “Ifhe doesn’t want to know me, that’s fine.I’vebeen here before.”

Sympathy and regret carves deep lines into his. “WhenIcalled, he hung up as soon as he knew who it was.”

A switch flips.Thisday is ten steps forward, one thousand back.Allhope slides away, pooling at my feet.

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”Hecatches the sudden change in my tone.

“Thirty-three years ago.”

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