Page 33 of Carver
When we have all of that packed away, Dravin takes the turntable and speakers, disconnecting the wires and wrapping them up. I grab the stack of records.
My heart is in my throat. I bought each and every one of these for Dom. I chose them with care. I put so much thought into every single one. Sitting in the backseat next to his tools, packed in with blankets, it’s like the blending of two worlds. He’s going to be going back to Hart with Dravin, sitting in the passenger seat right beside him. It’s the best thing, but selfishly, I wish that he’d come home with me.
I don’t know when our life in Hart will be ready, but even a few days feels like too much. I’ve always been good at waiting, but my excitement will make every hour feel like a lifetime, even if leaving my family will also be equally painful.
We’ve packed everything and we’re both standing by the truck, both of us staring at the house. There are lights on inside, but the broken blinds block out most of the movement.
I don’t say anything and neither does Dravin.
We wait a few more minutes, the black night pressing down around the edges of the headlights. “Do you think we should go and help?” My voice sounds unnaturally loud out here.
“Doyouthink we should?”
“He did say he’d beat us to finishing this and it’s not like we hurried, but maybe he needed a moment more than he thought he might. Memories take up a lot of time and space.”
He makes a sound low in his throat. Agreement, tinged with worry. If this was one of his operations? Operatives? Whatever he did as a soldier in the past that was planned out—I think he’d make that noise and then go charging in, except in this case, he’d give a polite knock on the farmhouse door first.
“Prepare for the horde,” he murmurs. “You’ll love them, and they’ll adore you and Elowen, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a lot.”
It’s such a shift that it takes me a minute to grasp what he’s saying. Right. The club’s women.
“That’s okay. I likea lot.” My eyes stay fixed on the house. How can one small structure contain so much suffering, misery, and painful wishes? Not just Dom’s, but generations’ worth. “Dravin?”
“Hmm?”
“I know you’ll say that we don’t have to thank you, but thank you anyway. There’s always going to be a soft, squishy part in my heart for you because you showed up exactly when Dom was ready for you.”
He crosses his arms, his leather jacket making that signature noise that leather makes when it bulges and stretches,even when its worn in. Not quite a creak, not like a floorboard. “Life can be a messy shitshow, but sometimes things just work out like that, don’t they?”
“It’s like an eclipse. Sometimes, it all lines up. Some you see. Sometimes you can’t see it at all. But it’s there. I’m not sure what’s out there or what to believe in or call it, but I do believe in eclipses.”
“You’re pretty badass yourself, Bronte.”
I snort, my face heating. It spirals out into a breath as the door opens and Dom steps out. He has to lift it to latch it properly. He has a duffel bag slung over his good shoulder. If he needed to say something to that house and the ghosts it contains, he’s already said it. I don’t know if that means making his peace or not. I’m not sure that I can make my peace with it or find forgiveness for what happened here. I’ve been trying for years. It’s not like I’m trapped, or that I haven’t moved on, but part of me is still fighting it for Dom’s sake. That same part will always be angry on his behalf.
He’s the love of my life. There are always people who are going to say that everything happens for a reason, and maybe if he hadn’t grown up the way he did, we wouldn’t be who we are now. We might not even be aweat all. I’m not sure I believe that. I’ll always wish that Dom had a different childhood, and as a mother now, I’m doubly angry on his behalf.
It’s the mother and the lover, the soulmate, the friend, all the bits of me that love all the bits of him, that rushes to him and meets him halfway between the house and where the truck’s headlights start. He catches me before I can even fling myself at him. His strong hand seeks mine. He finds it and spins me around effortlessly, like a dance in the black night. His handtravels down my arm and bands around my chest, hugging me tight into his body.
I gasp at being snugged so close. His other arm doesn’t have a big range of motion, but he’s able to move it just enough to wrap around me and bracket me fully.
Holding me in his arms.
Shielding me from the house, from the memories.
Neither of us are ever going to be able to let them go, but Dom’s pointed me in the direction he wants me to look.
Forward, towards the truck where Dravin is waiting with that expression says that we can take our time. He doesn’t mind standing there all night. He points me to the light. To our future. To a life together.
“Did you get everything you need?” I whisper, my stomach a riot of butterflies, nerves, and warmth that blooms out to fill me up entirely.
“I did. I have everything I need right here in my arms.”
Dom doesn’t say cheesy shit. Even if he did, it wouldn’t sound cliched when he says it because it’s such a rare sentiment from him.
“At least I will, when you and Elowen get to Hart.” He bows his head, his warm breath skating over the side of my face. My pulse leaps in response, my heart racing. “I haven’t said it enough, Bron, not even in the past, but I love you. Someone wise once told me that flowers grow good in shit. I’m ready to test that theory.”
I can’t believe that it wasn’t that long ago that I stood in his house and fired his own words back at him with a gooddeal of heat. He needed that. He needed to hear me. I was so desperately trying to break through and reach him. Now I’m here, swaying in his arms.
