Page 39 of Almost Home
I nodded, a smile pulling at my lips. He’d always had a great sense of humor, even as a kid. Despite most of our conversations being brief over the years, I’d gotten the sense he’d maintained that. I admired it—one of many things about my younger brother I could say that about.
“I’m sorry for keeping you at a distance. It was never because I didn’t care about you or want to know you.”
His whole demeanor had shifted to something a little smaller, softer.
I forged ahead. “I’m still figuring myself out. Just started, really. But I’ve wanted to say that for a long time. I haven’t known how to be a part of your lives here and still do what I did there. Some people are better at that kind of thing, I think, but I never was. Or maybe, I’m not. But I came back specifically because I want to do better—be a better brother and son. And I hope, at some point, you’ll forgive me for everything I’ve missed—for shutting you out and staying gone.”
Face tight, jaw clenched, Warrick blinked a few more times as he studied me. Thanks to years of practice staying stoic in all manners of discomfort, I didn’t shift around under the weight of his gaze. I let him look—let him see the mess that sat across from him.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know whether to be more shocked by the content of your speech, or the sheer volume of words you just spoke at one time.”
I shook my head, heart crushing under the weight of regret and hope that flooded me. “Either way, I guess.”
He smiled. “Thank you. I haven’t felt—” His eyes tracked away from the table, over to the still-snowy mountain peaks to his right, then he chugged the rest of his water before facing me with eyes just a touch red. “I haven’t felt you owed me an apology, but I appreciate it.”
We breathed through the moment together, emotion charging the air and every word spoken. I couldn’t find a response to that, though, so I simply nodded.
“You did miss a lot, but I’m glad you’re back. We all are.”
Another nod acknowledged his words.
Then he smirked. “And at some point, we’re going to talk about you and Sarah working twenty feet apart in that office every day with no one to serve as buffer between you.”
I scowled. “You think we’ll fight?”
He gave me a look like I was truly crazy. “No. I think you’re going to go up in flames of passion any day now. I might’ve been like ten when you guys were together and totally did not get what all went down when she left at the time, but I remember the way it felt to stand in a room with the two of you.”
“Yeah? How was that?”
His brow smoothed out and he gave me a grin so wide, I internally braced myself for whatever would come out at the sight of it.
“Like I was learning something. Like at any point, you two would unravel into a heap of what I thought at the time would be kisses, but…” He winked.
Tossing my balled-up napkin at him, I stood. “And with that—”
He burst out laughing and rose to stand as well. The waitress had already cashed us out, so I wandered back toward the office while Warrick followed, cackling with self-satisfied glee the whole way.
When we reached the little yard finally dotted with dark purple and yellow crocus buds along the border of the flower bed, I faced Warrick. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Thanks for actually talking.”
And then, he stepped forward at the same time I did, and we embraced. My heart clutched, and the welling of years’ worth of distance and longing hit with the pat of his ridiculously large hand.
“I’ve never said anything, because I was young then, but with you back, it’s been on my mind. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For your loss. The baby, I mean.”
Like a punch to the gut, the well-meaning words landed their blow, and I exhaled sharply through my nose.
When we pulled back, I suspected we wore identical expressions of feigned composure. The moisture at the corner of his eye and flush of his cheeks were no doubt mirrored on my face.
“See you soon, Wilder.”
I nodded. “See you soon, War.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Sarah
Wilder’s lunch only lasted forty-five minutes, but I’d been a nervous wreck the entire time. Not because he’d been gone, but because Madeline Reynolds’s assistant had called to say they’d be arriving at one. Not two o’clock, as planned, but an hour early. I’d decided to call Wilder at the last possible minute since I didn’t want to interrupt his time with Warrick. The little bit I’d gleaned from Sadie told me they needed the time together.
