Page 48 of Mended Hearts

“Mom,” Dax warns. My dad remains quiet, per usual.

“For shit’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, pulling the sling off my arm. The black amputee compression sock covers what’s left of my forearm to my elbow.

My mother lets out an audible gasp, throwing her hand to her mouth in horror.

“What happened?” she shrieks.

“Looks like he lost his hand,” Dax replies matter-of-factly and I suppress a laugh. He’s not going to pity me, and for that I’m grateful.

“Dax.” She gasps and turns in her seat, looking behind her toward my brother. I can hear the butt chewing now for him being insensitive about the situation. But she seems to have forgotten we’re adults now, and he stops her dead in her tracks.

“No, Mom. I hate that Dustin is injured. I would never wish that on anyone. But I’d much rather have my brother return with a missing hand and bruised ego than not return at all. Some people aren’t that lucky.” His words drive the point home and I’m left wondering if it stems from him losing his best friend, or if he knows something I don’t. Like what happened to Brian. All I can do is hope he survived the attack or this missing hand and losing my career would’ve all been for nothing.

We all sit in silence for the rest of the ride, and for once, I welcome it.

“HEAD ON IN. I’ll grab your bags,” Dax says.

I look up and glare at him as he holds the door open, waiting for me to get out.

I grit out, “Thanks,” causing my younger brother to chuckle. I hold back the smile threatening to spread across my face. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed him. I’ve avoided this house and my family like the plague. I shouldn’t have taken everything out on them by staying away. It’s just this town only reminds me of what I’ve lost.

I pause and look up at the sky. It’s not bright and lit up with stars. Tonight, it seems a bit gloomy. Like it’s welcoming mehome but knows I’m not happy about it. The constellations are more vivid in the vast openness overseas. Now I can barely make out the Big Dipper.

As soon as my feet hit the threshold, I’m hit with the same floral scent my mom has used since I was a kid.

“Are you hungry?” She wraps her arms around my good arm, pulling me toward the kitchen, and I fight the instinct to pull away. “When everyone heard you were coming home, they started flooding the house with all these meals and desserts. It’s just so nice to be in such a supportive community. Everyone has missed you.” She rambles and rambles, and I start to block her out.

“I’m not hungry,” I grumble as my feet come to a halt.

Her face is a mixture of shock and sadness once I turn my stone-cold expression her way. I can see tears forming, and for a second, my façade falters. I don’t want to be the cause of her sadness. She’s done nothing wrong. But just like she’s always been, she doesn’t know when to quit. So I’d like to say she brings it all on herself.

“Are you sure? Mrs. Trudy brought over lasagna. I know that’s your favorite.” She walks off, expecting me to follow. Her voice returns to its chipper tone.

“I said I’m not hungry,” I bite out, trying to control my annoyance. It’s as if being in this house has altered my ego.

“Dax,” my mother calls, keeping her back to me. “Will you go ahead and take Dustin’s bags up to his old room?”

I want to tell her thank you…maybe even apologize for my harshness, but anytime I show the slightest bit of anything besides rudeness, she seems to take it as some mother-son bonding time. And that’s something I’m just not interested in.

“I swear. That woman hasn’t changed,” I huff as soon as I reach the top step.

“And neither has your room.” Dax snickers as he opens the door and pushes it in. “Welcome back to two thousand one.” He drops my bags near the closet.

“If only I could go back to two thousand one,” I murmur as I scan the room I left behind so long ago.

“Why in the world would you want to go back to high school?” Dax crosses his arms as he leans back against my dresser.

“No reason.” I drop down on my bed and start messing with the sling. It’s been rubbing on the back of my neck all day and I’m ready to get the pain in my ass off. I know I look like a monkey, dipping my head and reaching behind with my hand to pull the strap up. I don’t bother to look at Dax. I know he’s watching me—probably with a mixture of amusement and pity. I know he feels bad for me being injured. What family member wouldn’t? But unlike the rest, he’ll never make me feel it. I don’t want to feel or see the sadness that my missing hand causes people.

I groan, carefully sliding my arm out, then toss the contraption across the room. “That’s a bitch to get off when you only got one hand.” I attempt to make light of the situation.

“Are you sure you aren’t hungry? Mom bought some bananas, strawberries, Poptarts, Fruity Pebbles…” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “And pretty much anything you liked as a kid. Which means the whole store.” He laughs, shaking his head.

“Glad to see you’re still a comedian.” I begin to unbutton my fatigue jacket. I’m ready to be out of this uniform once and for all. No use in dragging out the inevitable.

“Well.” Dax cocks a brow. “You did take all the asshole genes.” While his tone is light-hearted, his words ring true.

“Boys!” We both look toward the door. “I made you both a plate of food!” our mother yells from downstairs. I half smilebecause it brings back so many memories. But then remember I told her twice I wasn’t hungry and my smile dissipates.

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