Page 11 of Forever in the Country

She’d been in my driveway when I walked out of the trailer.

“I just missed you,” she says with a sigh.

My immediate reaction is to say that we’ve been in the same damn town for months andyears,but I know I haven’t been present like I should. At first I just needed space, then it was because I wanted to give her and Waylon time to themselves without me interfering—God knows I caught enough shit for that.

But the other part of me knows it has nothing to do with my best friend marrying my little sister and everything to do with feeling displaced in the pecking order here.

“I missed you too.”

“Are you mad at me?” she asks quietly, still not letting go, but I push her back a little to see her eyes and instantly regret it. They’re shiny with unshed tears, and I know that I did that to her. I am still fucking up after all this time.

“Never, Marlee Girl,” I say as one tear slips free and I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. “I’ve, uh…”

“I know.” Her shoulders sag as she takes a step back.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry.”

She lifts one shoulder. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her back to face me. “I’m sorry, okay?” Mossy-green eyes stare back at me and I swallow hard. Her eyes are so much lighter than my emerald-green ones but it fits. She’s bright and happy and full of love and I’m…me.

“I just wish you would talk to me. In general—not even just about the hard stuff.” She looks away. “We used to talk all the time, then it was just sometimes, and now it hurts having you so close and still feeling like you’re miles away.”

My cold, dead heart breaks in my chest at her words. Guilt and remorse make it hard to breathe, and I swallow down the bile that threatens because—fuck.

“How about this,” I say around the lump in my throat. “How about we take a drive—go get ice cream, maybe take the kayaks out at Hank’s?”

Her eyes brighten just the smallest bit. “Really?”

“If you’re not busy. I mean, I know you’re doing a lot right now and—”

Holding up her hand, she shakes her head and grins. “Nope. No take backs.”

I chuckle and her smile grows. “Go get changed, Marlee Girl, and we’ll head out.” She pops up on her toes and kisses my cheek before taking off for her car.

The guilt still rattles around inside me as I change into swim trunks, the scars on my calf stretching with the movement. I’d sat for a couple of sessions at the tattoo shop in Blackstone Falls to have them covered.

I’d given Gemma, the tattoo artist, almost free rein outside from the basics. She’d come back with a work of art that still resonates deep inside me. Gemma had designed a timepiece and laid it over a skull, black-and-gray shading hiding the Marine Corps emblem in the mouth. I’d been choked up at the care she’d taken. You had to really look for it, but it was there.

I knew it was there and that’s all that mattered.

That’s all I wanted.

The surrounding areas were a combination of gears and bullets, the date my grandparents took us in, my sister’s birthday, purple flowers for Gran, and a sunflower for Marlee.

The flowers were the only color on the entire piece and balanced the harshness of the design. It’s me to the core and I take a minute to admire it. The tattoo was less about my needing to cover the scars and more to prevent the questions and stares that inevitably came.

I’d dealt with whispers and hushed tones my entire life. Whether it was between my parents, landing in Clementine Creek, or getting out of the military, people hadfeelingsand concerns about me.

And well-meaning or not, it made my skin crawl.

That poor boy having to care for his sister. I can’t even imagine what’s going on in his head.

You can barely see his limp anymore but after all he’s been through…

I hated well-wishers and the look of sympathy or pity depending on their motivation.

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