Page 38 of Ten Hammers

Mom does love these chairs. Cruz built them for her a couple of birthdays ago. I focus on this, on my mom and brother, and push the remaining thoughts out of my head.

“I’ll control myself.”

I mean, if she wants me to…

But as I walk over, I swear I can sense the heavy mood around her. I pick up the rocking chair nearest to her and place it even closer to hers.

Now I can see her better and a hollowness to her eyes. Shit.

“Hey,” I say softly, rocking forward.

She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word, and as I force myself to relax into the chair, or at least appear relaxed, she chews her lip and wrings her hands, and I can’t stand it. I wish I could drain that nervousness and all the negative feelings from her, just kind of absorb them and shoulder them myself.

Reaching over, I touch her arm, walk my fingers down to her elbow, and tug her toward me just enough to give the hint that I want her hand in mine and she can take it if she wants it.

She does, thank God, pressing her thumb into my hand, a tiny thank you gesture that feels immense.

“I’m trying to work up the courage to go over there,” she says, after a minute.

“Oh?”

I hear her exhale. “I’m super anxious about tomorrow.”

“Totally natural for you to feel that way. But we’re all going to be with you.”

“That’s part of the problem. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle it and I don’t want to go inside and fall apart in front of you all. You guys see me,” she says.

I don’t know what she means with that last part because of course we do, but my heart aches for her, and I squeeze her hand a little tighter.

“So I was going to kind of do a trial run,” she continues. “Go inside by myself. See if it’s as bad as I think it’s gonna be.” She sighs. “I kind of just want to forget the sledgehammers and just bulldoze the whole damn place to dust.”

She looks so sad, and I want to tell her anything that will make the pain leave her expression. I want to promise her we’ll burn it to the ground tomorrow if that’s what she wants. She can light the match and we’ll all bring gasoline.

But no. Over the years, seeing what that fucking house and everything it represents, even now, has done to her, I know we are right in at least trying to heal her wounds rather than adding another Band-Aid to the pile.

Even if it would feel really fucking good to watch it go up in flames.

“Winnie, you deserve all the love and happiness in the entire world. I can’t erase the past, but–” I’m making myself cringe – “This sounds so damn cliché, I know, but I can promise you, that I’ll be right by your side, now and always, as long as you want me there. Want us there. I know every single one of my brothers feels the same.”

Jealousy still simmers in me over her thing with Max, but I swallow it down. Winnie’s needs will always matter more to me than anything else. “You’re running the show here, Pooh Bear.”

I don’t just mean in the reno, but now’s not the time to bring up the other stuff. Though I do want her to know none of us are going to push her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.

She sniffles, freeing her hand from mine to swipe at her eyes. “I don’t want to go in for the first time with all of you. But I’m not certain anymore that I want to do it all by myself, either.”

“Is one of us a good number? I’ll come with you, if that’s what you want,” I offer. Yeah, I’m not gonna push but I’m never going to make this woman beg, or even ask twice, for anything she wants, ever.

“Yes, oh my God, please, yes. Do you mind?”

The light is back in her eyes, and the sight of it ratchets up my heart rate.

“Do I mind? Winnie Wainwright, do you still not understand?” I get up. “I’d walk a mile over shards of glass if you needed me to.”

“I’ll try to never need that,” she promises with a laugh. She pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and turns on the flashlight. Then she stands. She grabs my hand, which I hadn’t even realized I’d fisted, and it unfurls in her palm. She intertwines her fingers with mine.

Winnie’s grip on my hand tightens with every step we take as we walk across the street. I can feel her unease growing as the moment stretches longer and longer, but she never takes her eyes off the house.

“Shouldn’t the lawn be a jungle, all grown up and weedy?”

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