Page 79 of Reclaimed

Corjan slips back onto his stool after handing Ruben his credit card at The Rocks. He picks up his beer with a smirk. “You’re about to be inundated with diapers and baby clothes. Take the help where you can get it. Trust me.”

The accompanying guilt has me picking up my own drink. The rusty brown liquid sloshes slightly against the sides of the beer stein.

“How’s she been doing?”

At mention of Isla, I pick up a spare coaster to fiddle with. “She’s good. Hanging in there, all things considered.”

Corjan’s stare feels heavy. I’ve been trying to spend more time around my family, but the anticipation of what they’re going to say has me on edge. The comments and questions have shifted from how I’m holding up to how am I doing with becoming a dad. As well-meaning as they are, at times the concern is a bit suffocating.

Isla is the breath of fresh air I’ve been craving and dragging her into my lungs each day is the sweetest addiction. I don’t know how I’m going to move on once this is all over.

“How are you?” There it is. The question he’s held onto for the first twenty minutes of our visit.

I level him with an even stare. “I’m good too.”

His brow cocks. “I would have expected something more than good with all the happy news you’ve had to share lately.”

I sense the underlying tone. “Do you have something to say, Corjan?”

“No.” He straightens on his stool and downs a mouthful of beer. “I’m happy for you. I can see that she’s good for you.”

“Wow.” The sarcastic bite falls from between gritted teeth. “Anything else?”

He shakes his head and grins. “Nope. That’s it.”

“Good.” I study the bottles behind the bar and sip my beer.

“What?”

Words tumble through my head like marbles rolling through an empty space. Too many. The wrong ones. I finally settle on something honest. “I get that I’m the youngest here, but I know what I’m doing.”

“I know,” he says earnestly. “I do know that. You’ve changed, is all. And I can’t say that it’s been bad.”

“It seems like you’re all just waiting for me to fail.”

“We’re just trying to figure out where this new version of you lands. From where I’m standing, you’re doing all right for yourself.”

“Why don’t I remember you doing this with anybody else?”

“We did.” He wipes the condensation, clinging to his hand from his glass, on his jeans. “The difference is none of them were recovering from a bullet wound.”

It’s all emotional damage from where I’m standing.

“Where was I?”

“Where you always were. Aloof. Hanging around. Just living your life.”

He isn’t wrong. Up until the incident, I did my own thing. Sure, a phone call would drag me back home to help at the Sanctuary or do a favor for Mom, but otherwise I marched to my own tune and all that.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

“You’ve been around just as much as we needed you to be.”

It’s funny how everything can change in an instant. One minute you’re moving through life, making jokes without a care, and the next, it feels like the weight of the world is crushing you without a lifeline in sight.

Until Isla came along. She’s my lifeline.

“Hey, Powells!” Silas’s greeting booms through the bar.

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