The instructions. “You’re nearly a man now, Luke.” He’d been thirteen. “I don’t want you crying about this like Katherine. You’re old enough to understand the call of duty and responsibility. Set a good example for your sister and be a help to your grandparents.”
And in place of a hug, a handshake.
Looking back, he supposed he should’ve been grateful for that much. It was more than he’d received in the years since.
He reached down to grasp a root and tossed it to the side, felt the ache in his back at the movement. He straightened, stretched his neck, gaze catching on a dogwood tree nearby, the border of bright red around its leaves.
Lazy, lingering autumns were always his favorite. Too often, a storm or two blew through or the weather turned cold too quickly. And the leaves turned and fell in a matter of meager weeks.
Had Violet ever jumped into piles of crunchy leaves before? She’d love it—Cade, too. Maybe there’d even be a way of coaxing Colie outside. Then again, would the kids even be here by the time the trees were stripped bare?
Would he?
“Is your dad the reason you enlisted?”
He blinked, looked over. Might be the first time Noah had asked him anything close to a personal question. “Not sure, actually.” He picked up his shovel once more. “At the time, it was patriotism. It was only a couple years after 9/11. But I guess if I’m being honest . . . yeah, maybe Dad had something to do with it.” He couldn’t deny he’d thought following in his father’s footsteps might earn him a place in his father’s attention.
Instead, Lucas had gone and thrown away any last chance at a relationship with the man. When he’d deserted, he’d humiliated his father. He was surprised Dad had even shown up for the court-martial.
“How about you?” He’d tried asking Noah yesterday what had ended his military career. Hadn’t gotten far. Maybe he’d have better luck asking what had led to it.
“Because of my dad, too. Not in a good way, though. I got expelled my senior year of high school. Had to finish the year in alternative school. College was out of the picture.” He shrugged. “Dad drove me to the recruiter’s office himself.”
Lucas speared his shovel into the ground, used his work boot to give it an extra shunt. “I really want to ask you how you felt about that, but I’m thinking if I do, you’ll call me a shrink. Or accuse me of trying to be your counselor again.”
Noah actually grinned at that. Used his hoe to turn over a patch of fresh dirt. “Well, I wasn’t excited about it, I can tell you that. Helped a little that my best friend was enlisting, too.” His smile faded.
Lucas might have asked about that. Might’ve risked Noah clamming up altogether and gone ahead and pried.
If not for the scream from the corner of the yard.
She should be lecturing Colie about the fight right now. She should be deluging her with questions—how had the argument started and why and what on God’s green earth had made her think pushing the other girl was a good idea?
Instead, she was pacing a waiting room that smelled of disinfectant and stale coffee, on the verge of telling that grumpy-looking receptionist to take a hike. How long was she supposed to wait out here, worrying and wondering and—?
“Jen!”
Oh, thank God.
Lucas was practically sprinting down the hospital corridor, his dirt-stained clothes and rumpled hair barely registering as she felt her pulse rise. “How is she? What happened? Is she okay? You’ve got to learn to do a better job communicating, Luke. Your short text was offensively unhelpful.”
He stopped in front of her, his breath heavy. “She’s fine. Broken arm, is all.”
“Broken arm, is all?” Her voice pitched high at the end.
He clasped her elbow and steered her toward the waiting room, where Colie had jumped up from her chair in the corner.
“What are you doing? I need to go see her.”
“She’s getting her cast on now. There’s paperwork I wasn’t able to do—”
“Paperwork? Are you serious right now?”
He moved both hands to her shoulders. “Jen, please, take a seat. You’re not going to do her any favors by rushing in there all panicked. Give yourself a second to calm down.”
Calm down. Were there any two words she hated more? So many times they’d been flung at her. In Dad’s exasperated grumble. In Mom’s overly syrupy tone.
Calm down, Jen, you don’t need to get