Page 17 of Whispers of You
Roan lifted his chin in my direction. “Hey.”
That was him. No welcoming me back because he knew how hard it was for me to be here. More than once, I’d wondered why he hadn’t taken off, too. The night of the shooting had scarred him, as well—in some ways worse than the rest of us. Maybe he’d stayed to prove people wrong.
“Good to see you.”
Roan simply grunted. “Mom said dinner’s ready.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the house.
“As you can see, not a lot has changed,” Grae mumbled.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if Wren had changed. Did her laugh still have that husky edge? Did her nose crinkle when she smiled? I shoved that down and started for the front door. “Sometimes, things staying the same is a good thing.”
“Dad!” Drew called from the steps. “Luke’s hogging the Xbox.”
Lawson sighed. “I can tell you whathaschanged. Full-fledged teen angst.” He lifted his gaze to his middle son. “Not for long. Dinner’s ready. Say hello to your uncle so he doesn’t think I raised a bunch of heathens.”
Drew gave me a lopsided grin. “Hey, Uncle Holt. It’s sick you’re back.”
I glanced down at Grae. “Sick?”
Nash clapped me on the shoulder. “It means cool. You need to brush up on your lingo.”
A small boy dodged around Drew and rushed toward me. “Uncle Holt.”
I caught him on the fly, lifting him into the air. “Hey, Charlie. How’d you grow so much since I saw you last?”
Guilt dug in deeper. It had only been a few months, but Charlie and Drew seemed like they were each a head taller.
He grinned down at me, showing a gap where two front teeth should’ve been. “’Cause you’re never freaking here.”
Lawson groaned. “You know your grandma doesn’t like you saying freaking.”
“It’s not even a swear,” Drew muttered.
“Maybe not, but this is her house, so we play by her rules. Right?”
“We play by her rules because she makes cookies,” Charlie chimed in.
“Smart man,” I whispered, setting him down in the entryway.
“Luke,” Lawson called.
“What?” a voice snapped back—one deeper than I remembered.
Lawson pinched the bridge of his nose. “God save me from teenagers.”
“I’m not a teenager,” Charlie said helpfully.
“And I thank my lucky stars for that every single day.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “We’re not that bad.”
Lawson lifted his brows. “Paintballing the side of the house? Luke taking my car for a joyride when he doesn’t have a license? The yelling at decibels not fit for human ears?”
Drew gave his dad a sheepish smile. “We’re keeping you young.”
“You’re giving me gray hair.”
There was humor in Lawson’s voice, but there was also bone-deep fatigue. I had no idea how he kept up with it all, but maybe I could help lessen his load while I was here.
