Page 51 of Mended Hearts

Dylan pushes up on his knees and tosses his arm around my neck. “I love you, Ma. And have your back no matter what.”

I wrap my arms around his torso, pulling him tightly against me. Hugs like this with a teenager are few and far between, and I’m not going to squander this moment.

“I love you more than you will ever know. Everything I do is for you,” I whisper.

I make my way back to the kitchen and make a plate for Brian, put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and then I carry hisfood to the living room. He’s asleep, naturally. I sit the plate on the end table so he will see my attempt.

And then I head to my room to do something I haven’t done in more than a decade.

Pray.

Chapter Thirty-Five

DUSTIN

Iroll out of bed before the sun rises and immediately make it before throwing my running attire on. You can take the man out of the Army, but you can’t take the Army out of the man. While my life these last years has been chaotic, it’s been organized chaos. This flying by the seat of my britches is going to be an adjustment, as is. I need some sort of routine to keep from losing my ever-loving mind. My feet lightly pad down the stairs, and I slowly open the front door, making sure it doesn’t slam behind me. It used to have a habit of doing so when I’d try sneaking out in high school.

The morning air is cool unlike the dry heat I’ve been accustomed to overseas. At least I don't have to worry about sand being blown in my face every turn I make on my morning run. The quietness is also something I’m unfamiliar with. While I enjoy it feeling like a ghost town this early in the morning, all it does is amplify the noise in my head. Everywhere I look holds memories of Echo, and before I know it, I’m stopping at the fence to the softball field.

I grip the chain-link fence and stare out into the outfield. It’s as clear as day. As if it’s playing out in front of my very eyes. We lie on the blanket, staring up at the starry sky. A picture-perfectnight with the most perfect girl. The night she gave herself to me, and I her. The night we solidified our future plans.

The last night I ever saw her.

My grip tightens against the metal, and I quickly release it as I back away, refusing to let all those feelings make a return. But isn’t that what happens to undealt with feelings? They always find a way to resurface. I circle around the front of the school just as the sun begins to peek in the horizon and hightail it back to the house.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

I jerk my head toward the house and see my dad standing at the top of the porch stairs.

“Old habits.” I shrug.

“Die hard.” He finishes. Not where I was going, but it’s fitting. “You might want these.” He flings his hand in my direction, throwing something, and before I have time to process it, my right hand flies up, catching the keys. I glance down at my old set of keys, and a sense of freedom fills the void.

“You would’ve felt like shit if I hadn’t caught these.” I laugh.

“I have more faith in you than that, son.” He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “You’ve always been too quick for your own good.”

“Not quick enough.” I remind him, lifting my left arm.

He winces and then stammers on his words, trying to change the subject as he walks down the stairs. “Not knowing when you’d be back for it, I’ve made it my personal mission to keep your Blazer maintained.” He pulls the black tarp back, exposing my greatest earthly possession.

“Whoa, Black Betty.” I sing to my blacked out beast of a vehicle.

“Start her up.” My dad nudges with a smile and I quickly comply, flinging the driver’s door open. I slowly slide the silverkey in and turn. The rumble surrounds me and a smile fully encases my face. “Take her for a spin.”

I reach to shut my door, temporarily forgetting I don’t have a hand to grab it with. I go to rest my hand on the steering wheel, being so used to driving with my left hand, but fall short with the missing length. My excitement is dwindling away.

“You only need one good hand to drive with, son,” my dad says, hopping into the passenger seat. His words and calm demeanor ease my frustration. He’s always been so even tempered, completely the opposite of Mom. Maybe that’s why their marriage works.

I drop the gearshift into drive and peel out, slinging loose gravel around. Instead of apologizing, I laugh and my dad does, too. We drive the entirety of the town, hitting some back roads before I end up in front of the house I’ve been avoiding but drove to without a thought. I slam on my brakes and slide much like I did that night when I confronted her father. I throw the Blazer into park, get out, and jog straight to the backyard. I remember Echo said in her letter she had been here working on it. But I have to see if it’s still there.

I pull the latch to the wooden gate up, lifting it slightly off the ground some before bumping it with my hip. I round the corner and take in the overgrown jungle that has taken over. It reminds me of an abandoned amusement park. A place that looks like the people just vanished—which is what they did. I walk up to her old window and let my hand drag across the windowsill. It’s badly peeling as the paint chips off as I slide my fingers across, feeling for it as if it’s Braille.

Unexpected emotions well up within me.

“This is why you left,” my father states, walking up behind me.

“It destroyed me,” I admit for the first time in my life.

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