Page 74 of Close to Falling

“Nothing wrong with that. Not everyone wants children. I didn’t know I did until I got pregnant,” I say, taking a sip from my glass.

“True. Not everyone is meant to have them.”

“So,” I say, standing up to drain the pasta, “when we go to Hawaii, is it cool if I wear a fanny pack?”

“No, B, it’s not cool.”

“But they make so much sense.”

“Fisher would probably die from embarrassment. Hell, I would die from embarrassment.” She laughs.

“I’ll get a pink sparkly one, so I’ll look hip.”

“What are you two talking about?” River asks as he walks to the trash to toss his beer bottle.

“Fanny packs,” I say. “We’re going to Hawaii, and I’m going to wear the shit out of one.”

“You’ll be walking alone, baby.” He laughs.

“You guys are no fun,” I joke.

***

I’m lying out, soaking up some rays as the waves crash and the birds fly high above us. Fisher is swimming with River and Landon. Sarah is passed out asleep beside me because she started drinking at lunchtime. A book is lying on her stomach, and I see the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. Hawaii is the prettiest, and I want to live here. Landon won the competition yesterday, and today is our last day of warm weather before we return to the coldness of Crystal Bay. I look out at the water as my boys swim. Landon has crawled up onto a float while River tosses Fisher into the air. I smile when he comes out of the water and flips his long hair back. Our boy needs a haircut, but it fits him so I’m not going to bring it up. I stare out at my world, and a strong feeling passes through me. I could have missed all of this.

Life is a peculiar thing. In a way, it’s like the ocean current. It pulls and pushes until you think you’ll drown, and sometimes it’s so strong you want to give up the fight and let it take you under. But then, you see the sun’s rays above the surface. You see hope, and you know there is more. You know you have to fight, because as strong as the current is pulling you down, someone is reaching for your hand. Someone wants you to breathe again, to keep swimming. I’ll always keep swimming as long as River’s hand is the one reaching for me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

RIVER DAWSON

Sawdust and music surround me as I finish a piece for a client. I’m ready to get home to my family, but this has to be done. I hear a motorcycle in the distance, and I take my gloves off and run a hand through my recently buzzed hair. The sound grows louder, and I realize it’s more than one. I walk to my office and grab my gun, tucking it into my jeans before I fix my shirt and grab a smoke. I light it and walk back out. It’s quiet when they kill their motors, and I lean back against the table, waiting for them to come through the door. Pops enters first, and I see how prison has aged him. I’ve spoken to him some over the last few years, but it’s been short conversations about nothing important. This man doesn’t mean a whole lot to me.

“Long time no see, son,” he says, walking on in. He runs a hand over the wood, removing the sawdust.

“Pops.” I nod, looking back at his crew. “Bringing all of them necessary?” I ask as I take a hit of my smoke.

“Oh, you know how that goes,” he replies. “Boys, you can wait outside.” A few of them look me over. They are bigger than I am, but I’ll break their fucking necks if I need to.

“How have you been?” he asks me.

“Good. You?”

“Been worse.” He takes a seat and tells me to do the same. I comply and look him over. He’s a big man with a gray beard. His arms are covered like mine, and he’s got a scar across his face from a fight he got into as a younger man. “You know I been out?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“And you didn’t come visit?”

“Nope.”

“Some of the guys think you don’t have any respect, my boy.”

I laugh once. “You think I give a fuck what they think?”

“You should. They’re your family.”

“You serious?” I ask on a laugh.

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