Page 14 of Lost Love Found

“Yes! Let’s do that. Are you staying with your parents?” Now I’m clapping too.

She gasps, bringing a hand to her chest dramatically. “Ha! That’s a barmy idea even for you. No! I rented a flat in Knightsbridge. Actually, I had one for Charlie, too, but she’s decided to stay at home since she found out Raf and River are staying in the same building during the shoot.” She rolls her eyes and then smiles. “You should take it. No prying mums to worry about that way.” She loves her mom, but she is definitely one to meddle. Usually, it’s in the most well-meaning of ways, but that’s not always the case.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll come to London. It’ll be like old times, only better because we will not be eating ramen noodles and that awful cheap pizza from Joe’s.” She’s smiling wistfully. Those early summer days in London were some of our best and some of my worst. “OK, darling, I have to run, but we’ll chat about London some more. I love you and I can’t wait to spend some quality time with you.”

We have a long hug, and I kiss her hair. Being a few inches taller than her makes me feel like a giant sometimes. “Love you, Mae. See you soon!”

And just like that, she’s gone. And I need to plan this trip to Marblehead.

* * *

There’s a heavy brick of uneasiness living in the pit of my stomach, and it gets heavier the closer I get to my childhood home. Mom knows I’m coming, but my brother doesn’t, and I have no idea how he’ll take it. Plus, I called Adam when I landed, and he didn’t pick up and I just thought hearing his voice would somehow help. Then I immediately felt stupid for thinking that.

Mom is sitting on the front porch and runs over to my rental car when I arrive. She gives me a tight hug and I feel tears pricking my eyes.

“Hi mamá,” I whisper.

“Moro mou.” My baby. “It’s so wonderful to see you!” She’s petting my hair in the way she always does, and I hear another car in the driveway. “I’m going to take Frankie in and give you two a moment.” She scurries off like she has ants in her pants. That little trickster.

When I turn I see Owen is standing next to his truck, looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. After years as a Marine, he looks so grown up. So unlike the 18-year-old boy who left home all those years ago.

“Hey, O.” I lift my hand in an awkward little wave and then promptly shove them into my jacket pockets. Fuck, it’s freezing out here. I miss LA weather already.

He lets out a deep, rumbling sigh and strides towards me with a determined look on his face. I stumble back, but before I can react, he pulls me into a hug, dwarfing me with his immense size. His body is as solid and reliable as ever, and the warmth of it radiates around me. I'd forgotten how tall he is, and I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me.

“Hey, little sis. I miss you.” His voice is gruff and somehow soft. He doesn’t let me go as tears stream down my face, hot and fast. Six words and it feels like a piece of my heart has been put back together. I keep my head buried in his chest until my toes go numb.

He walks me inside, an arm around me as we all sit down at the kitchen table wordlessly. Ma already has tea and muffins ready. As I sit down, I see a box of tissues in her hand. I turn off my phone so there are no distractions. I need to be fully present for this and I knew that the moment I walked in the front door.

When I look back up at Owen, tears run down my cheeks all over again. He takes one of my hands in his giant ones and Mom pushes the tissue box closer to me as we all sit down.

“I’m so sorry, O.” I give his hand a squeeze and wipe at my tears again. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come back here. I miss you so much and I know you blame me for not being here when dad got sick, and I’m so, so sorry I didn’t make it back in time. I wish I had. I wish so badly that things had been different, that I hadn’t screwed everything up, that we…” I can’t go on. I’ve waited too long to say these words to my big brother and the sheer weight of them is making my throat close up. My loud sobs take over and I hear my mom’s own soft one next to me.

“Elaina, no. I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you. It wasn’t your fault. It happened so fast… it would have been impossible for you to get here. I thought you blamed me…for what happened.” He nudges my face up with a gentle hand. “Little sis… you’ve thought that for almost six years? Is that why you haven’t come home?”

Owen’s forehead scrunches into tight lines, and his emerald green eyes are glossy with unshed tears. Even though he’s been there for me since we were little, I’ve never before seen him cry. His jaw clenches and his arms are crossed, as if he's trying to hold himself together. I can tell he's trying to be strong, just like he has always done as the big brother.

“Lainey Banainey,” Owen says with a small, sad smile on his face. He exhales loudly before continuing. “I’m the one who is sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” His green eyes, so much like my own and our dad’s, remain steady on mine. “I know how important Andy was to you, and I wasn’t here. I wish I had been. And I left a few weeks after dad died. It killed me not to be here for you. For Ma.”

I shake my head so fast I feel tears run sideways on my face. “What? Owen, you were deployed. You couldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he says slowly. “But I still wish I had been. That last deployment was…” He blows out a breath and his brow creases as he remember something so obviouslypainful. “Hard. Awful. The memories still haunt me. The effects of that time is something I still reckon with, in my heart and in my head. It’s the kind of experience that doesn’t leave, not even in the privacy of my therapist’s office.” He takes a deep breath and looks over to Mom before meeting my eyes again.

I nod, understanding for maybe the first time that my quiet brother has kept so much hurt inside for so long. During all those years of video calls and short visits.

He looks up at me, green eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ve missed you. All these years, I’ve missed you. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

I throw my arms around him, letting all the tears of relief flow. “I don’t want to miss you anymore either.” I pull back so I can see his eyes, thinking back to something he said. “And O? I don’t blame you. I never blamed you. Not for a single thing. I love you. So much.”

“I love you, little sis.”

We talk for… I don’t know… hours? All the things left unsaid are out now. Owen opens up a bit about his last deployment - as much as he can, anyway. It sounds horrific, and he’s getting help to deal with it all. He and Raf started their security business almost two years ago, and it’s really skyrocketed. Owen sticks to the east coast, handling all the cyber security, and Raf has been running things in California, mostly training new bodyguards for their elite Hollywood clientele. He has a lot going on, but he seems to handle it all so well.

Grief is like walking into a dimly lit room with no windows. There’s no air to breathe, and the emptiness of the space feels heavier than the objects that occupy it. Nothing can ever fill the vacancy my dad’s death has created. Some days, that feeling is too much to bear, and I want to escape the pain. But being in the same room with my mom and brother, who felt the same loss as me, helps me to process my grief. I can never get back those years of trying to cope with my sadness on my own, but I know I can’t dwell on that. I’m here now. We’re here now. And I want to look forward, not backward.

I help Mom make dinner, and we all eat together. As we reminisce about Dad, I can practically see his hearty laughter echo off the walls, and his big hands as they fly across the old piano's keys he played every night.

Ma insists on cleaning up and I take a minute to explore this old house. My old house. I walk into the garage and the scent of grease and fresh sawdust linger in my nose as I run my hand over his truck's cold hood. When I return to the kitchen, I catch sight of Owen sitting at the piano bench, gently playing an old Frank Sinatra tune. Mom smiles from the sink, little droplets of water falling from her fingertips. Her eyes full with memories of Dad.

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