coffee. For a gruff old man, it’s funny that he tries all the latest fancy creamers. Today, it’s some Starbucks cinnamon-flavored one I caught Atlas drinking straight from the carton yesterday.
“Morning,” I say, returning the greeting. One would think I’d be mad at him for the mess I’m now in, but the reality? He didn’t force me to walk into that bar, and he certainly didn’t have a hand in me thinking sleeping with Journey would solve the problem. Nope. That shit’s on me, and I own it.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, he sets his coffee down and then reaches for the paper in his back pocket. Sitting forward, he slides the paper toward me, his eyes finding mine.
“What’s that?”
“The deed to this house. It’s yours.”
I cock my head to one side, looking at him from across the room. It takes me a moment to understand what that is, and why.
“Just let me live here with you boys until my ticker gives out,” he grunts, his eyes on the window.
I don’t know what to say. At first, I don’t reply. What do I say? I clear my throat. “You don’t have to do that.”
His eyes drift from the window to mine, and I see a broken man. One who gave his entire life to what he loved doing, but not to the ones in it. “To have you boys here, with me, that’s all I want.”
I nod and notice Bear and Atlas making their way into the kitchen. Atlas heads straight for the coffee pot, rests his chin on the counter, and stares at it. “Does this thing make hot chocolate?”
Coho rounds the corner next, his nails scraping against the hardwood and does the same thing Atlas did, except he’s staring at his empty food dish. Bear leans over the side of the counter and pours a handful of food in the dish for him. Straightening up, he scratches the side of his head. “How’d we get a dog?”
Bear’s memory has taken a hit. Literally. He’s basically forgotten the two weeks leading up to that trip up to Alaska.
Atlas turns to him. “Uncle B, we’ve been over this. I found him, and now I’m his dad.”
I smile at my son. He’s happy here and that’s all that matters to me.
Bear nods to me when Atlas takes Coho outside with Dad. “Hey,” he says, walking toward me with only a pair of sweatpants on. His body is still bruised and a few new scars mark up his chest.
“How ya feeling?” I lean back into the counter, watching him reach for the coffee.
“Little sore but not bad.” He pours himself a cup of coffee and then turns to face me again. “How’d it go with Journey?”
Bear didn’t know about the connection with Athena. He knew about Rhett and her parents, but not the heart. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him at the time. Probably because I didn’t want anyone knowing. It was bad enough that I knew. When I told the transplant coordinator that I didn’t want communication, they gave me the following information as they did with everyone.
Seventeen-year-old female from Washington was the recipient.
My pulse beats in my neck, my throat tight. “I haven’t talked to her much since we got back. Figured I’d give her some space.”
Bear takes a drink of his coffee. “It’s crazy that she got the heart. Just fucking bizarre, ya know?”
When you think about it, the connection we have with her, and her family, it’s inexplicable. How? Why? Those are probably answers I’ll never have, but I know one.
I complicated it by starting a relationship with her based on lies.
BEAR, DAD, ATLAS, and I end up fishing off the pier for most of the day. We catch surfperch, and Coho spends most of the time in the ocean. He smells so bad by the end of the day we can barely stomach it.
“I’m gonna give this guy a bath,” Dad says, taking him by the leash and heading up the street with his tackle box in one hand and Coho in the other. I’m not sure who needed a dog more—Atlas or my dad.
My breathing changes, and I know why, a sudden kick to my chest when I see where we’re at on the street. I don’t deserve Journey, and I certainly don’t feel like I deserve love after everything I’d put her through. But I need her to know that the love she gave Atlas and me gave me hope that it