Page 70 of Almost Home
“Do you?” Wyatt asked, his volume and tone still calm and low.
“Of course. Why would I move back here if I didn’t get that? I know we haven’t been close. That’s the main thing I want to rectify, my first priority is you and Mom.”
Warrick’s eyes speared into mine and he shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like it. And this is not about us feeling left out, though I can say I have, sometimes. And jealous of Bruce and all your friends you lived this life with—the people you let be a part of it. But we’re here now, and you’ve made an effort, like you said. You came back instead of staying in North Carolina”
I nodded, accepting the statement. In many ways, it would’ve been easier to stay away. Retire there and figure out what life looked like outside the military while still being surrounded by a culture saturated in it. Many people did, and they loved it.
“Now we’re here for you. With you,” Warrick said, ducking his head until I met his eyes. “This is us making an effort right back.”
“Thank you,” I said, rough and scraped over rusty vocal cords. “I’m not opposed to you being here. I just didn’t think to ask. It’s not a particularly happy evening.”
Wyatt set his plate on the coffee table. “We don’t need happy, brother. We can’t understand everything about your life, but we can listen. You can tell us what you want—about your past, about these men you’re remembering.”
“You’ll have to do shots. If we’re doing this right.”
Warrick clapped his hands together. “Bring on the whiskey and memories.”
For the first time today, a chuckle escaped. “I don’t normally do much talking. The other guys take the reins for the most part.”
Warrick leaned back in his chair with raised brows. “Obviously, we can’t contribute, so you’re going to have to man up.”
“I’m acceptably secure in my manhood despite not being a Chatty Cathy like yourself.”
War’s eyes made a slow blink. “Did I just hear super soldier Wilder Saint say the wordsChatty Cathy?”
Wyatt’s laugh came first, followed by an obnoxious guffaw from Warrick. I focused on repouring the two shots I’d had and nudged one of the three I hadn’t taken toward them. Their laughter settled and they held their small glasses up. I raised mine and found the words.
“To those we love in life and grieve in death.”
They each seemed to swallow hard, like maybe this was a moment for us to grieve not only my friends, but our own father, who we’d all lost before we understood what grieving was. And because I wanted that—the healing for each of us in this moment together, I added one more.
“And to the bond of brotherhood. No distance or time or trial can break it.”
Wyatt nodded and Warrick cleared his throat. They spoke in unison. “To brotherhood.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
Sarah
I’d done my best not to obsess about Wilder. I’d failed miserably.
My knee had been cooperating, so I took a long-ish run before meeting up with Quinn, Dahlia, Calla, and Sadie. I’d texted the group chat to see if anyone was around knowing Sadie might be free tonight since I knew Warrick wouldn’t be available. After a few minutes chatting, we nailed down a time and all met at Quinn’s house. Thankfully, we wouldn’t be going out—I wasn’t up for a loud restaurant, and this time of year, despite the ski season being fully over, Silverton was bustling.
Our small town used to be virtually dead in the shoulder season between ski season and summer hiking, and even then, summer was basically nothing compared to winter. But my first year back had shown me this wasn’t the small town of my youth with hardly anything open this time of year, thank goodness. More people, more businesses, and more opportunity. The drawback? More people crowding into the delicious restaurants and making a low-key girls’ night next to impossible on a weekend.
God bless Quinn for being up for an early dinner before she went and sang. Apparently, she wasn’t going in until eight so we had to be out by seven thirty. Sadie needed an early night too since she woke up at the crack of dawn to bake, and I was exhausted by everything this week. And of course Calla was always happy for an early night.
“So the Saint brothers are drowning their sorrows together?” Quinn asked from behind her plate of appetizers.
One of Dahlia’s customers had sent her a huge charcuterie board earlier that day as a thank you. A nice gesture, if odd, but serendipitous for us since we could now enjoy the beautiful spread of meats, cheeses, nuts, dips, fruits, veggies, olives… truly, the thing was massive and delicious.
“Don’t say it like that. It’s a memorial,” Calla said, frowning at Quinn.
Quinn held her hands up. “Hey, hey. I didn’t mean it to sound sarcastic. I’m glad they’re doing it. It seems like a good thing they’re together.”
I nodded. “I hope so.”
My heart hadn’t stopped hurting since I’d told Warrick. Something about asking him had unlocked the concern and worry for Wilder that I’d packed away ever since he’d told me about today’s significance.
