Page 49 of Mended Hearts

Dax shakes his head and snickers. “She never listened when we were kids. Why do you think she would now?”

“Because we’re adults,” I say, stating the obvious. “Well, at least I am.”

“Hey now.” Dax holds his hands out in defense. “I’m just a kid at heart.” He closes his eyes, lifting his nose as he sniffs. “A hungry one.”

Dax leaves the room, and I welcome the solitude. I stand up and walk to the door.

“Where’s Dustin?” Ma asks.

“He’s upstairs. Remember he told you he wasn’t hungry? I know you’re only trying to help, but this is a huge adjustment for him.” I can hear the plea in Dax’s voice practically begging her to back off. He tells her all these things and I love him for it, but I know it’s pointless. It’s like everything you tell the woman goes in one ear and out the other. She hears you loud and clear. I think she has selective memory. Not memory loss. I believe she just remembers what she wants and when she wants.

I remind myself that being here is only temporary until I get my own place.My own place.I haven’t ever had one of those. I don’t even have a clue where to go from here. The only thing I’ve ever known besides baseball and this town has been the Army. I’m just uncertain where I fit into the world anymore, since the one constant I had was stolen from me.

I close my door and pull one arm at a time out of my jacket, cautious not to hit my injury. I stand, staring into the mirror that’s still mounted to the back of my door. I inspect how I look. I look like shit. Both arms hang at my sides. I hold my arm out in front of me. The instinct to move my fingers is there, but they aren’t. I bend my arm at my elbow, noticing that for the mostpart I have a fully functioning arm. This will be an adjustment for sure, but that’s all.

“It could’ve been worse,” I say to myself in the mirror as a reminder. “You’re too prideful for any pity parties—even personal ones you want to host for yourself.” I hold my injured arm up to the mirror. “As much as you’d like to think you’d rather not be, you’re lucky to be alive. Time to start living like it.” I let out a deep breath and twist the knob to the door.

Time to go act like I’m hungry.

“See, I knew he’d want to eat!” my mother exclaims, accepting the victory, and I almost retreat back to my room. I sit down across from Dax where the plate she made me sits.

I look straight at my brother and want to reach across the table and slap the smirk off his face—just like old times. I bet this time I could get away with it. My, how the tables have turned. I can hear Dax being all whiny like,“Mom, aren’t you going to get onto him?”

The image makes me snort. Everyone looks at me, and I deflect. “Where’s that woman of yours and my niece?”

“Technically,” my mother starts, and I instantly stop her in her tracks, knowing how she’s about to clarify Blu not being biologically Dax’s daughter.

“Screw technicalities,” I blurt.

My mother gasps.

Dax chuckles from across the table.

And my lips curve up into an involuntary smile.

I don’t want to smile. But I can’t control it and it kind of feels nice.

Chapter Thirty-Four

ECHO

October 2014

Brian has now been home for a month, and it’s still a daily emotional rollercoaster. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve lasted this long because he was always gone. It’s sad to think that about someone you’ve always considered your best friend. But for the time being, I’m thankful Dylan is back in school, and I’m busy with work at the salon because I’m not sure I’d last if I was stuck with Brian’s mood shifts all day long.

I swing through a drive-thru and grab something for dinner on my way home. I’m sure I’ll hear about it as soon as I walk through the door, but I don’t have the bandwidth to cook after being on my feet all day. I stop four houses down from ours and honk for Dylan. He used to walk home after school, but now he walks the extra distance with his teammate, Brock. He avoids being home alone with Brian at all costs. I wanted to fight him on it and tell him to push past the awkwardness; that Brian needs us…but then my maternal instincts reminded me that it’s not my son’s job to put out that amount of effort for anyone—especially an adult.

And just like that, I’m seventeen again, feeling like a stranger in my own home. I told myself when I ran away, I’d never walk on eggshells again, yet here I am, dancing my way across them as if my life depends on the performance.

Dylan makes his way to my car and a steady ache fills my chest. I was hoping this situation would rectify itself, leaving my son unscathed. But the more it drags out, the less faith I have it will all pan out. While I owe Brian everything for all he’s done, my son and his well-being will come above even myself.

Dylan gets in and shuts the door, sitting his backpack between his legs. I ruffle his golden locks and smile at him.

“Ma, stop.” He swats at my hand, causing me to giggle. “Mmm, what’s that smell?” He takes in a long sniff and turns to the back seat.

“It’s shake and bake, and I helped.” I sing like he knows the commercial. He raises his brow, and I roll my eyes. “It’s KFC. You know, finger lickin’ good.”

“All you had to say was chicken,” he remarks, obviously too cool for my antics.

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