“Yeah.” He answers with one word, one little word, and the tension around this reunion is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Everyone’s trying to tiptoe around it.
“I have to get home,” Casey says. “And I promised that I would get him settled before.”
“Oh,” Kallie says. “But…”
“I’m not leaving just yet,” I say and then look up at my mother who just looks at me.
“You can come to the barbecue on Sunday,” Kallie says, smiling, looking around, then looking back at me. “Billy and Charlotte have one every Sunday so we can all get together.”
“Um,” I start to say. “That sounds good.” I look at Casey, who just stares at me. Kallie’s arms fall away from me.
“They are going to be so happy to see you,” Kallie says. “You know that she is going to be baking and cooking all your favorite things.” I swallow down, thinking of how I’m going to face all these people.
I turn and walk back to the truck, getting in while Casey talks to them. Quinn gets into the truck now. “That was rough,” he says from the front, looking over his shoulder.
“It was,” I answer, the back of my head starting to throb.
“It has been rough,” Quinn says. “With Aunt Kallie and Aunt Savannah.” My eyes open as I listen to him. “Christmas is the worst. They spend most of the day pretending not to cry, but you can tell.” The burning in my stomach comes on now. “And your birthday.” I don’t have time to answer him because Casey climbs into the car, and we drive away. I try not to look, but for a split second, I look.
Jacob has a shaking Kallie in his arms, and Beau is holding my mother. Chelsea continues to glare at me. “That wasn’t bad,” Casey says, driving away, and it’s Quinn who says something.
“That wasn’t bad?” He points back at the scene we just left. “Were you not watching what I was watching? All that was missing is Grandma.”
“I mean, it could have been worse?” Casey looks over at him, and Quinn laughs.
“What could have been worse was Chelsea shooting his ass.” He points at the back, and I’m shocked she shoots guns.
“She shoots?” I ask, and Quinn looks over at me.
“She’s got the best shot out of all of us,” he says. “Even me, and I’m older than she is.”
I look out the window, my head going around and around, and my eyes suddenly burning. We pull up to the house, and I whistle. “This is new.” I look at the one-story house with gray brick stone and a gray roof. The white trim around the windows and the door, and a covered porch in the front with two Adirondack chairs.
“Yeah,” Casey says. “We gutted the last one, and well …”
“Mom went crazy,” Quinn says, getting out of the truck, and I see that he’s really tall. He’s got his mother’s model looks, but his father’s build. “It was not a good time.”
“She didn’t go that crazy,” Casey says. Only when the door closes, and it’s just the two of us does he look over at me. “She went crazy.”
I laugh, getting out of the truck and walk over to the trunk getting out my green army bag that holds my clothes. “You joined the Army?” Quinn asks, shocked when he sees me with the bag. “What division?”
“Delta Force,” I say, and he just looks at me.
“That is so badass,” he says, whistling, and he’s about to tell Casey something.
“No,” he says. “Your mother would find you on the battlefield and drag your ass home.” He shakes his head. “Now wait here while I show him around.”
“I don’t need you to show me around,” I tell Casey, and he just shakes his head, walking up the two steps toward the brown wooden door.
“Everything is wired tight,” he says, walking inside and turning on the lights. It’s my turn to whistle as I look around.
“He was not kidding. This looks like …” I look around at the all-white family room that opens to a huge white kitchen with white and gray marble countertops. “I can’t stay here,” I say, afraid to even dirty the floor. “Why is everything so clean? I’m a military guy, and I’m clean, but all I can see is me dragging in the mud.”
“Good,” he says. “Then I can replace all this shit with normal fucking furniture.” He puts his hands on his hips. “If you repeat that to Olivia, I’m going to deny it until my last breath.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I say.
“The fridge is stocked, and so is the freezer. TV remote is there.” He points to the middle of the table.
“How bad was it?” I look at him, and he just looks at me.
“Bad,” he answers. “But it’s not my story to tell.”