22. Wyatt

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wyatt

It was always strange to walk into our childhood home. A mix of emotions rushed into me whenever I did. We had all grown up here, and the bond we formed as a messy cluster of siblings was strong. There were so many good memories here because we loved each other. When our dad was here, there were good memories with him. I'd been young when he passed, but even then, I could still remember a little, mostly a feeling of security. Following that were the dark days of our grandfather. The flip side of his cruelty was bonding us together even more tightly. Except for Jake.

"Hi," my mom said warmly when I walked into the kitchen.

I had texted that I was on the way over. I leaned over and dropped a kiss on her cheek before rounding the kitchen counter to slide my hips onto a stool across from her.

"Coffee?" she asked.

I glanced down to see a mug sitting immediately in front of me. "I think you think I'm gonna say yes," I teased.

She grinned. "Possibly. So what brings you here today?"

"I can't just stop by to say hi?" I hedged.

My mother angled her head to the side. "You could, but I suspect there's more to it than that. Just a feeling, I suppose."

I took a swallow of coffee as I contemplated the best way to say what I needed to say. I didn't let myself dwell long. Maybe it was because I didn't want to think about it too much. The urge to just spill it pressed forcefully.

"I know you know about the way Jake treated McKenna," I began.

"Of course I do. We talked about it. Is there something else?" My mother's gaze shifted to trepidatious.

My heart ached a little. She had carried a lot. Our father's passing, our grandfather's actions, and carrying her own guilt about not knowing how to push back on that and protect us from him, especially Jake. And then, Jake dying. It was all just a big mess, and it felt like the vine of the poison from our grandfather was still tangled in our family. Its tendrils reached far.

I took a quick breath. "I confronted Jake about the way he treated McKenna the day before he died."

As my mother stared back at me, my thoughts shot back to that afternoon. I was just a kid, just old enough to stand up to Jake, to have a voice. But I'd still been just a kid. He'd been a senior in college, and I'd been a freshman in high school. My body was ahead of my brain back then. I was tall and could easily pass as a young adult. Yet inside I'd been a boy who wanted to keep his little sister safe.

My mother was quiet for several beats before she let out a sharp sigh. "Ever since McKenna told me what happened, I wondered."

"If I confronted him?"

She nodded. "I didn't hear what you said to him, but I heard him tell you to fuck off, or something like that before he stormed out." She let out a weary sigh. "Before I say more, I want you to know I started seeing a therapist. I went to her after Jake died, and I started going again recently. I needed to understand better why I idolized Jake even though I knew he wasn't perfect. He had a terrible temper. And—" Another sigh, this one ragged. "I just… I feel like I failed all of you. Your father died, and I kind of fell apart. I was numb. Your grandmother was a big help, but I didn't realize what your grandfather did. I knew he had a temper, but I chalked it up to the yelling. Even then, I was in a cloud. To this day, I wonder what your father didn't tell me. His generation was different. Maybe you don't understand that, and I can't expect you to. It doesn't matter, even if you do. He would say things here and there about his father being hard to deal with, but—" She shrugged a little. "I don't know. I don't know what it meant. I think he went through more than I can understand and will ever be able to know. I would hope he would've told me if his father had done to him what he did to Jake, but I don't know. I know I never saw your father lose his temper with any of you."

She paused, and I could see the questions swirling in her eyes. I had been four when our father died. The memories I had were little bits and pieces, maybe a snapshot here and there of more feelings than concrete events. "I don't remember much, Mom. But I don't remember any bad feelings about him."

"Your grandfather was usually here when I wasn't."

"Yeah. You were working, Grandma was working, and he worked. It seemed like one of you was always here, but never more than one of you. There were a lot of us to take care of."

My mother's smile was sad and warm at the same time. "I know. I certainly hope you don't blame yourself. Jake was hurting badly. I knew he had a drinking problem, but I didn't know what to do about it."

My throat was tight as I nodded. "I guess I just wanted it out there."

My mother straightened on her stool, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. I took another sip of my coffee, that old familiar tightness in my chest easing even more. I didn't expect absolution. I suppose I was realizing something I'd known all along. It wasn't my fault that Jake died, but I'd carried some guilt around the events for prodding at him. None of us had known the whole story back then, and maybe we still didn't. "I'm not sure why I told you," I finally said. "I guess I just wanted you to know. I talked to Rhys too."

"Did he tell you to come talk to me?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I think it was something I needed to do."

My mother slipped off her stool and rounded the counter to me, pulling me into a quick hug as I stood to meet her. When she stepped back, she squeezed my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes. "You were always such a good boy. I'm grateful you were there to protect McKenna. I will always miss Jake, but I miss the best parts of him. I suppose we're all kind of broken and hurt in our own ways."

"We are. I miss him too. I don't miss his anger, but I miss him."

She returned to her seat, and we nursed our coffees quietly for a few minutes. I was surprised when Griffin showed up.

My mother smiled. "Telepathy?" she teased lightly.

Griffin chuckled as he kissed her on the cheek before sitting down. Glancing back and forth between us, he rested his elbows on the counter.

My mother got up and walked across the kitchen to fetch a mug, calling over, "Coffee?"

He chuckled. "Well, I don't wanna feel left out."

A moment later, he had his coffee, and my mother was seated again. "So how much longer do I get your sweet face in town?"

"If you're gonna call me ‘sweet,' I may have to leave sooner," Griffin quipped.

I grinned over at him. "She just called me a good boy. You can handle being called sweet."

Griffin kicked my calf and took a swallow of coffee. "I'm leaving in the fall."

My mother nodded. "Good."

"Good?" I prompted.

She smiled at us. "I knew he wasn't going to stay. He's not done firefighting. And it fits for him to go to Willow Brook. We need someone there. He can do the firefighting, and when he's ready, he can help with the brewery there."

"I can?" Griffin prompted

My mother laughed softly. "Well, yes. A lot is going on with the expansion, the restaurant, and eventually the brewery location that will be there. You can't fight fires forever, but you can do that for a couple of years, and then when you get over your death wish, you can be in charge of the brewery there. I know my boys, and you all have different personalities, but you are the most like Wyatt." She cast me a quick smile.

Griffin nodded thoughtfully, tracing his fingertip around his mug on the counter. "Maybe. For now, I like fighting fires."

"And you'll get to run a whole crew there. That's a good deal," I pointed out.

"So what's up?" Griffin asked next.

My mother looked between us. "I'm sure you already know the whole story."

Griffin quickly read the look on my face. "Well, good. It's always nice to have the whole truth out there."