Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Noah

My mind was in overdrive as we left the hospital. It was hard keeping my thoughts in order as I went over everything I'd learned about Ella. Damon was in dad mode as he switched the car seat out from my Jeep and got the kids into his police truck.

After the boys were both buckled, I forced myself to focus on Damon. "Listen, Ella thinks there's something fishy going on with how Trent's arm got broken."

Damon rolled his eyes. "You mean the fact that Jason actually pushed him?"

I was taken aback. "Did he say that? Because the whole time, he's been telling me Trent fell. Trent told me that too."

Damon cocked his head to the side, like he was reminding himself not to yell at me. He sucked in a long breath. "Remember when I told you to watch them? This is what happens. They do stupid stuff. I'm going to go home and work on getting Jason to admit that he pushed his brother. I'm sure he scared Trent into hiding the truth from me."

"You think Jason threatened him?" That didn't make sense to me. They seemed like the best kids.

Damon roared out a laugh. "Do you remember when you threatened me not to tell Mom and Dad stuff?"

I winced. That brought back a flood of memories.

Damon shook his head. "Bro, I'm not mad about it. I threatened Canyon and Dylan and Kayla too. I'm just saying something happened, and we don't know the truth yet."

"You want me to come help you?"

"Here's what I want you to do, bro. Go check on Dad. Go check on Mom. I know you're only supposed to be here a week, but you can still help out." He said it like he thought I was going to drag my feet over it.

"Right. That's why I'm here."

"Is that why you're here? Really? Because I saw the way you looked at her. I saw the way you took her hand and wanted to protect her from the big, bad Clint."

Now I felt attacked. "Can you tell me why he's taking a jog out by her house? And why he overheard your conversation? And just so you know, when it comes to her, I want to be told what's going on. You and McCrae don't just go slinking around with your secrets."

Damon looked surprised, and then he barked a laugh. "You are here because of her."

I shook my head. "Wrong. Dad had a heart attack. I came home for that."

"Dad is just fine. I saw the way you looked at Clint, the way you took her hand. My bet is that you'll stay because of her."

"Really?" I was more than a little irritated that my police chief brother acted like he knew me so well.

Damon snorted. "Oh yeah. I'm not saying it's the wrong move, but you should understand that you want to stay for her. Though you really should clear up things with the old man. He's obviously angry with you for some reason. Of course, he is stubborn, and it came out yesterday, didn't it?" Not waiting for my response, Damon opened the truck door and climbed in. "Thanks for watching the boys last night."

"I'm sorry about the break. I really am."

"Not your fault. They never sleep." He shut the door and pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

I watched him go and wondered about the things he'd said. What if I stayed? Could I stay?

I chewed on that as I drove the Jeep back to my parents' house. It took about fifteen minutes before I arrived at the long driveway. I put in the security code, which they hadn't changed from 1234, and the gate opened.

Once I'd parked, I stepped up onto the wraparound porch. The front door was open. Concerned, I hurried inside. Nobody was around except my father, who was sitting in his recliner in the living room.

"How are the boys?" he asked, peering at me from over the top of his newspaper.

I moved into the room and sat. The far side of the living room boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a view of the large expanse of mountains and trees. The lake glimmered in the distance. "Trent broke his arm."

My father winced. "Shoot."

"I thought I heard you," my mother said, bustling in to join us. "What happened?"

I launched into an explanation, filling them in on how we'd been sleeping and I'd woken up to the boys yelling.

My mother fretted as she listened.

My dad clicked his tongue. "Those boys don't have an off button."

"I'm going to make some dinner to bring over to their house. I want to check on them." Mom moved toward the kitchen.

My dad turned to me. "Let's go out on the porch and sit, shall we?"

"Okay." Something was off. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

We stepped out onto the porch and settled on the chairs. "It's beautiful out here," I said as I gazed over the tree line to the mountains. The house was on a hill, so the view sloped downward toward the lake.

My dad nodded and crossed one leg over the other. "That's why I bought it. Because I fell in love with your mother, and we fell in love with the view."

We were quiet for roughly ten minutes, and then my mother came out and said, "I'm heading into town. Noah, make sure your dad gets some dinner off the stove. And get some for yourself, too."

I nodded. "You bet."

She paused. "You're still good to take your father to his doctor's appointment tomorrow? I'm volunteering at the church for the food drive, but I can do it if you can't."

My father frowned. "He's doing it, Nora. Plan on the food drive. You spend too much time fussing over me."

She sighed and ducked in to kiss his cheek. "I like to fuss over you."

He held her hand for a moment and nodded. "Thank you."

I watched them, smiling. It made me happy to see my parents being affectionate like they'd always been.

My mother moved to me and kissed my cheek too. "I'm glad you're here." She hesitated, her hand resting on my shoulder. "You could stay here at the house, you know."

"I know. Thank you." I wasn't going to stay here tonight. Maybe it was rude, but I needed space. It felt weird to stay at home.

"Love you both. I'll see you in a few hours."

We watched her drive away, falling into an uneasy silence.

Awkwardly, I asked, "Do you want me to get you dinner?"

My father shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal. "Not hungry."

I was hungry. I thought about going to the pizza place for dinner and buying the one Ella used to love sharing with me. I'd have to get one at some point while I was here at home.

Was it still my home, though? I wasn't even staying at my house. For so long, I'd only come once a year. Despite that, I knew deep down that this was home. It always would be.

My father cleared his throat, signaling he was finally ready to talk. "I want to level with you. You know that I've been upset since you've been back. I don't like behaving that way."

His words hung in the air, and I simply nodded.

My father let out a little sigh. "Your mother doesn't like me upset, either. I haven't heard the end of it. "

"Mom never liked any of us to be upset with each other. She never let me and the boys and Kayla go on for too long." I thought about all the times my mother had ended fights by forcing us to do chores. She would tell us to do them until we could get along, and she'd make sure to keep us busy. I couldn't help but smile at the memory.

"Your mother was good with you kids. She still is. She had a kind touch, but she didn't take any crap."

I nodded somewhat nervously. Maybe there was a deeper reason why my father was upset.

"I'll just tell you straight. I am sad you haven't been home the past couple years. You have been here for Christmas, and I appreciated that for your mother's sake. But when I had a heart attack, I realized I don't know you anymore, son. When you were growing up, you were right next to me, whether it was at my sermons, going out on search and rescue, or doing so many things. I really have missed you."

I didn't know what to say. All this time, I had never considered how my actions might have caused my father pain. Maybe I'd been so stuck in my own pain that I couldn't see anything else. My mind flashed to yesterday when Ella and I had spoken over Greg's grave. She was still grieving her brother, and I knew she was hurting just as much as I was.

I'd been handling this on my own. Of course, I'd had some girlfriends over the years, but none of those relationships had lasted long. It didn't help that I was always going on the next mission and had never been in a position for anything stable. Even when I'd started doing private security three years ago, I'd kept myself busy and refused to let anyone in.

With all of this in mind, I turned to my father. "I've missed a lot. I've missed all of you—you, Mom, Damon, McCrae, Canyon, Kayla, and Dylan." Emotion stuck in the back of my throat. Until it had been thrown in my face just now, I hadn't let it touch me. I'd just clamped down on those emotions like I would kink the sprinkler hose when I was young and wanted the water to stop.

"Have you?"

I thought of what my dad had talked about, always going with him on search and rescue. My father had taught all of us to climb. He'd fostered a true love of the outdoors in me, even as he'd supported me during my time in the military. He had trained all of us with basic survival skills, and I had put them to good use.

"I've missed you," I repeated. "When I got the call a couple days ago, I was like a spinning top—the kind Grandma would give us for Christmas when we were young. We thought they were ancient toys, but we would spin them on the ground and see which one could keep going the fastest and the longest. I've been like that for years, but it was worse when I found out about you."

My father nodded, and his eyes shone with moisture. "I remember those tops."

I cringed and ran a hand through my hair. It was like layers of emotion were hitting all at once as I realized the damage that I had caused. I thought of Dylan and how he had flippantly told me that I never called. He was right. I hardly knew Dylan at all. I thought of all the time I had missed with all my siblings and parents. My eyes burned. I stood and started pacing.

"Son, sit down," my father said softly.

"I can't. I'm sorry." I turned and faced him, getting hit with another wave of regret. I moved to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. "I can't lose you." With a shudder, I wondered what it would've been like to come home for another funeral. I slumped to my knees and bowed my head. "I'm sorry, Dad. I really am."

My father put his hand on mine. "Okay, son. I needed you to know that I miss you. I want to have a relationship with you again."

I gazed up at my father through the blur of tears. I was starting to see things so differently. "I want a relationship with you too. I do."

My father leaned over and put both arms around me. I reached up and held him. Things had to change, and I had no idea where to start. Something under me had shifted, like an earthquake had thrown me off balance, and the ground I'd thought was solid threatened to pull me under. I'd been so stupid and blind.

"I'm just glad you're home," he said. "I'm really glad you're home."

I was about to say that I was only home for a week, and then I realized that maybe that wasn't true.

"And I feel like I should tell you something."

"What's that, Dad?"

My dad sighed. "I think you coming home is part of God's timing and His plan for you."

My hackles went up at the mention of God. Of course I believed in God. I prayed sometimes, and in the military, I'd had experiences making it clear that God guided and directed me. After losing Greg, it had been hard.

"You okay, son?"

"I am, Dad. I'm just not sure about my relationship with God right now, I guess. It's hard for me to believe there's a plan for everything."

My father nodded. "I get that. I want you to know that there is. I believe you will see God's timing and plan in your life. I know it."

I decided to let him believe that. "Okay, Dad."