Page 55 of Finding Emotion

“Here.” Erin grabbed his phone, snapping a picture right in his face. She turned it, showing Damon his own blush. “Great reaction photo. Send her that.” She started to hand his phone back, but grabbed for it again instead. “In fact, send it to everyone. Even Nick will get a kick out of this.”

“Goddammit, Erin!” Damon wrestled for his phone and thankfully won. He checked to make sure the picture hadn’t gone through before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Stop helping.”

“Suit yourself.” Erin shrugged as she shoved him out of the way to close the fridge. “Dad said never mind about dinner.”

“He’s not hungry?” There hadn’t been much in the fridge anyway, and Damon had never cooked, not since he lived there.

“We’ve been here all day.” Erin glanced toward the door, her voice lowering as she did—at least by her standards. “He likes being alone. I think we tuckered him out.”

Damon had stayed at his childhood home longer out of guilt over wanting to leave as soon as he had arrived. He hated the hollow look of his father, a man who used to be strong and robust. It wasn’t just out of loss. Their dad lived with regret. He had avoided the hospital as much as possible when their mom was sick. Damon had spent the most time with her, since their mom had encouraged Erin to attend every sports activity she could. Erin hadn’t been able to deny her wish, just like Damon hadn’t been able to when it came to his music.

“Come on.” Erin dragged him by the arm back to the living room. “Hey, Dad, we’re going to hit up the tavern instead. Want us to bring you back something?”

“No, honey.” Their dad smiled at Erin. Then his gaze shifted over to Damon. “Thanks for stopping by. I know you’re busy with that music stuff.” He stared back at the television that had never been turned off the entire time they were visiting. “Your mom would have been proud.”

“She is.” Damon had no doubts about that. His mom had believed in Christ, and Damon had felt the Holy Spirit enough to follow in her footsteps. He didn’t push the idea with his father, who firmly believed death was the end.

Erin leaned down to kiss their dad’s cheek. “See you soon.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his hand over his thinning hair.

Damon followed Erin toward the door. “We’ll lock up!” she called back as they left. She wasn’t joking about eating at the tavern, and drove them straight there only to find it closed.

“Oh, shit, it’s Sunday! The tavern’s closed on Sundays.” Erin frowned. “I really wanted to share a beer with you.”

“It’s not the only bar in town,” Damon said.

“I know, but that’s like cheating on Big Bro or something.”

Damon sighed. “I can’t believe you’re still calling him Big Bro. Shouldn’t that be my title?”

“Whatever. I’m taller.” She put the vehicle in drive again.

“It’s not about height, Erin.” She liked to lord that over him.

“I’ve got it! We’ll pick something up and take it back to my place.” Erin pulled out of the parking lot. “It’ll stop Nicky Boy from working too.”

“As long as we grab food as well. Your cooking sucks.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better.”

“That means nothing. The bar you set was already pretty low.” He remembered eggs with pieces of shells in them the last time he’d stayed with her.

“Nick isn’t much better,” she admitted. “Okay, food and beer.”

“How’d your job take you being off for your honeymoon?” he asked.

Erin talked about her new stint coaching at the high school during the drive. Damon had never pictured his potty-mouthed sister around teenagers, but the grin she sported as she joked about their antics suited her. He let go of the small kernel of worry he’d had over her life changing so drastically. The one she’d run toward full tilt ever since she’d promised their mom—just like he had—was gone, but she didn’t seem to be troubled by it.

The driveway she pulled into wasn’t in front of a house like the one they’d grown up in, but it wasn’t in front of a mansion either. The modern flavor and stone pathway were nice. Inside, there was still very little clutter for two people jumbling their lives together.

Erin waved toward the dining room. “You put that stuff in there, and I’ll grab Nick.”

Damon figured her husband had already heard their arrival. His sister had never understood the term ‘inside voice.’ He pulled out his phone while he waited. Unable to figure out an appropriate response to her earlier message, he’d ignored it and texted Skylar about heading to the tavern instead. A quick follow-up about it being closed was easy enough, but after he sent it, no typing dots appeared on the screen. Even the prior message remained unread, and he wondered what she was up to.

“How’s Skylar?” Erin asked.

“I was just checking in.” Damon shoved his phone into his pocket again.

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