Page 3 of Come Back for Me
“Those kids want their fathers.”
He nods. “Here’s your paperwork. I’ll see you back in fourteen days.”
I nod, take the paper, and head off. The sun is shining, and the air smells clean. There’s no dust or dirt clinging to my skin as I walk down the stairs.
“Yo, douchebag.” I freeze for a second before turning to face my brother—who isn’t supposed to be here.
“Sean?” He walks toward me, arms open and a huge smile on his lips.
“Good to see you home in one piece.”
We give each other a hug, slamming our hands on each other’s backs. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I figured someone should see you home from your last deployment.”
“Well, it’s good to see you,” I say with a smile.
“It’s good to see you too, little brother.”
I may be the youngest, but I’m not little. Sean is the shortest out of us, but he has the biggest heart. I sometimes wish I was more like him.
“You know, I can slice you from ass to cheek in about ten seconds, you really want to spar?”
He slaps me on the shoulder. “Not today, I’m here for something else.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, we have to go meet Declan and Jacob . . .”
A sliver of worry fills me. We don’t exactly have family reunions. In fact, I think the last time the four of us were together was the day I graduated from boot camp. My brothers and I are all one year apart going down the line. My poor mother had four kids in four years and then spent the next seven years raising four boys who weren’t known for being easy kids. We banded together and were best friends—in all things mischievous.
Now, though, we’re all scattered like the wind and only see each other separately for the most part.
“Meet them where.”
Sean clenches his jaw and then releases a heavy sigh. “Sugarloaf. Our father is dead. It’s time to go home.”
Chapter Two
Connor
“And now that’s over,” Declan says as he stares down at the hole in the ground where the casket rests. The graveyard is old with a few headstones that are still broken from the bonfire night where we all were idiots.
It’s quiet, and the smell of farming fills the air. A bit of manure, a bit of smoke, and a lot of regrets. I thought I would feel better now that he’s dead, but all I feel is anger.
“Not completely,” Sean reminds us. “We still have to figure out what to do with the farm and the land.”
“Burn it,” I say without feeling. Being back here makes me itch. Even with him dead, I still feel as if he’s watching, judging, and preparing to raise his fists. Hell, it still feels as if the secrets we’ve kept because of him are trying to choke me.
“Connor has a point. Although, it would make me feel better if the old man were still in it when we set it on fire,” Jacob tacks on.
I agree. My father used to be a good man. He loved his boys, his wife, and his farm, giving everything he was to each one. Then my mother died and we lost both parents.
Gone was the kind, fun, and hardworking man who taught me how to ride a bike and fish. Instead, he became a hollow drunk who used his fists to speak his rage.
And boy was he angry.
At everyone. At everything. Mostly, at my brothers and me for reminding him of the woman he loved and God took way too soon. As if we weren’t grieving the loss of the most wonderful mother who ever drew breath.
