Page 4 of Grace Notes
My brother’s face turns to stone, making it hard to get a read on him. “Yeah.”
“Did he—” I swallow, having trouble saying the words. “Did he tell you?”
Grayson won’t meet my eye when he nods. “That he’s sick? Yeah, he told me.”
Sadness squeezes my lungs. Kip called me earlier this week with the news. They found a mass, and while they don’t know what it is, it’s still scary. He was an alcoholic most of his life. It’s done a lot of irreversible damage to his body that can’t be reversed. But I just started getting to know my dad, and thinkingabout him not being around steals the breath from my lungs—especially for my daughter.
That man is her whole world.
Part of being a family, though, is learning to rely on one another, so I push the hurt down enough that I can breathe and ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
He clears his throat, swallowing hard but still not looking at me. “Do you think he will be okay?”
It’s not my grumpy older brother asking me that question. It’s a broken little boy who grew up without a dad. I know because I feel the same way.
“I don’t know, Gray. I hope so, but I think at this point, all we can do is pray.”
His gaze snaps from the ground he’d been studying up to mine. The sharpness in his stare is icy. “Don’t get me wrong, Brooks, I believe in God, but praying didn’t do much for Nate. There wasn’t a second that went by that Georgia didn’t pray for Nate to survive—me too if I’m honest—but he died anyway.”
Pain pinches behind my chest, but I don’t know what to say to that. So I keep quiet.
Chapter 2
Brooks,
Don’t forget about your final tux fitting. Remind your brother, too. You can make a day of it. Go together and hang out. It will be good for you.
We still need to decide on the caterer, too. We can go on a date and sample them all before we decide. It will be fun, and we can eat until they have to roll us home.
And about your vows—I don’t need big romantic gestures. I need honesty and communication—to feel loved by the words you mean. Just speak from your heart, Brooks. That’s all I need.
PS. There’s no return policy for brothers. Believe me, I tried to return Tayte many times. So you’ll just have to deal with the defectiveness, but maybe remember you’re from the same family. It’s likely you have the same defectiveness…Remember, I’ve known you for twenty-three years. You can’t deny it.
Love you,
Emryn
Chapter 3
Emryn
It doesn’t fit…My dress doesn’t fit.
I don’t know why I thought my wedding dress would fit after six years. After having Avery, I put on some weight that I never could get rid of, but I had big dreams when I pulled it from the top of the closet and tried it on.
Big dreams that scattered in the dust once I tried to pull it over my hips.
My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I hate myself for it.
It’s not a big deal, and I would never want Avery to see me crying over my body—a body that gave me her. But my chest aches anyway, and my tears fall faster than I can catch them.
With a huff, I fall back onto the bed, blinking rapidly at the ceiling to try to slow the stream of tears running down my face.
There’s a knock at the bedroom door, and I scramble to sit up, knowing that my face is probably a wreck of black smudges. The dress is still bunched around my legs, restricting most of my movements, so I brace my hands behind me and try to appear casual—like I hadn’t been crying my eyes out moments ago.
Brooks is standing in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the jam and his arms crossed over his chest. Even having been married for six years and knowing him much longer than that, it’s embarrassing to have him see me like this. But when Imeet his gaze, so much love shines back at me that I forget why I’m embarrassed.
“What’s going on?” he asks, still leaning against the door frame.
