faced with Jed’s closest friends.
Yet. That’s going to change the minute we touch down, and I know it.
We’re about to endure a second viewing and funeral. Then, the second will reading. And a second chance for John Jennings to turn my world upside down.
We hit a pocket of turbulence that has Kevin’s hand shooting out to grab mine. God, I want to laugh and then let silent tears fall, much like I’ve been doing late at night when I know Kevin’s barricaded himself in his room. Our worlds have drastically changed. And they’re about to be shaken more; he just doesn’t know it.
But I do.
And I’ll do everything possible to protect my son from the pain I’ve endured each time an email I sent to his father and it was ignored.
What I won’t do is feel shame for the decisions I made, starting with the one where I walked out of my parents’ life, moved in with my brother, and never looked back. Not once.
Not ever.
Eighteen hours after we left Jacksonville, we’re waiting for Maris to pick us up at the Juneau International Airport when Kevin takes a deep breath of the cool mountain air and sighs contently. “Mom, I thought you said Alaska was cold?”
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I wonder how time went by so fast that I now have to look up into his eyes to answer. “This is a warm day.” My lips curve faintly at the shock on his face. “This sixty degrees you’re basking in is almost sweltering for a native Alaskan.”
“But—”
“Yes?” I answer distractedly as I scan for Maris’s SUV in the darkness.
“But that’s like our winter!” he sputters.
The words are out of my mouth before I can censor them. “Why do you think your uncle Jed loved our winter so much?” I tease. Then I curse myself a million times a fool as Kevin’s body goes rigid beneath my arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” My voice is as cracked as my heart.
My son, my baby, is learning lessons he should never understand. He’s been taught too early the agonizing loss of those you love. It’s then I spot the vehicle Maris described over the phone. “There’s Maris.” I give his waist one more squeeze before I step away to pick up my carry-on, using my other hand to wave.
My best friend, and sister-in-law through marriage, pulls to a stop next to us. As she jumps from the driver’s seat, her head of mahogany hair gleams in the fluorescent lights. Running around the front of the car, she opens her arms wide to wrap us both in the one thing we need more than anything.
Strength.
Leaning my head down on her shoulder, I take just a moment of it. Because it’s not just the memorial service that has me on edge. It’s what I know I have to do after.
And to honor the two of the three men I love beyond anything, I agreed, which is why it looks like I have enough luggage to last a lifetime when the reality is Kevin and I are only moving to Alaska for the rest of the summer.
Juneau, Alaska, is only accessible to an outsider by air or by sea. But for some indescribable months many years before, I never cared if I left once I stepped foot on her shores. I easily pictured myself living permanently in the state capital that drew me because of one love, introduced me to another, and finally, gave me the one I cherish above all others.
Driving from the airport to Maris’s family home on the outskirts of downtown keeps me quiet despite the catching up between my son and my best friend. Reaching over the back of the seat, I grab Kevin’s hand. “Are you sure you want to stay here this summer?” It’s not that the reunion between father and son I agreed to leaves me much choice, but I’d be willing to fight unlike the way my parents did for me, but very much like the way my brother did for me every single day. Including the ways he often went against his husband when it came to matters of my son.
My son. I’d do anything for this child. Despite the resentment when year over year, I never heard a peep from his birth father, including a bounce-back message, I persisted in trying to contact Jennings to let him know he had a son. Shoving that thought aside, I give Kevin’s hand a firm squeeze for the