Mom sinks into his arms, tenderly embracing her youngest son. After they hug it out, she gives him the once-over too. “Do any of you kids eat?” she murmurs, scowling at his lean but well-defined torso.
“Does ingesting beer count?” Ryan retorts, smirking.
“How the hell are you, son?” Dad gives him a firm man-hug.
“I’m straight fire, old man.”
“Care to repeat that in English?” Dad requests.
I laugh, moving toward my brother. “Put him out of his misery.”
“Dad, I’m good. Chill.” Ryan jerks his head at Dylan. “Sup, asshat?”
“Whatever, douche,” Dylan replies with a grin, as they trade the usual insults.
“Language, Ryan,” Mom says, stirring a pot on the stove. “We’ll have young impressionable children here today, and I don’t need Dean or Annie getting on my case about your cursing.”
“Reprimand Dylan too,” Ryan says, pouting.
“What, are you like two again?” I tease.
“I’m opposed to favoritism in all its forms. Dylan cussed too but Mom’s given him a pass ’cause he’s clearly her favorite.”
“For the love of all things holy, Ryan. When will you ever grow up?” Mom exclaims before turning to Dylan. “And the swear jar applies to everyone today. You included, Dylan.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dylan grins at her.
Ryan grabs me into his arms, squeezing me half to death. “Missed ya, Tornado.”
“You only saw me on Friday, Randy Ryan.”
He ignores my use of his loathsome pet name. “That was two whole days ago. Can’t go twenty-four hours without my little Tornado fix.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Gabrielle!” Mom screeches so loud I have to stick my fingers in my ears.
“For fuck’s sake, Ma, chill out. I think the whole neighborhood just heard you,” Caleb says, walking in with his arm wrapped around his fiancée, Terri.
I fling myself at my middle brother, hugging him fiercely. “It’s so good to see you. I really missed you both.” I grin at my soon-to-be sister-in-law, hugging her too.
Even though there are six years between us, Caleb and I got on really well growing up. He’s the most laid-back of my three brothers, and he was always my go-to guy if I needed to figure something out in my head.
While I’m closest to Ryan, and we spend the most time together, I’ve always had a real soft spot for Caleb. He and Terri teach at the local high school, and they’re getting married next year. They went traveling during summer break, and I was already back at UD by the time they returned, so this is the first time I’ve seen them in months. Although we’ve kept in contact via FaceTime, it’s no substitute for the real deal.
I take a step back and glance at my brother. He’s tall, like Dad, Ryan, and Dean, and he has the same blue eyes we all have, but he has the darkest skin and the darkest hair of all of us. Add a tan to the mix, and my brother is looking as hot as ever. “Look at you,” I say. “All tanned and gorgeous. Traveling obviously suits you.”
“We had a fabulous time,” Terri supplies. “I would highly recommend it.”
“And you look gorgeous too, Ter. I’ll bet you were hit on left and right.”
She laughs and Caleb scowls. “Don’t mention the war,” she murmurs under her breath, grinning.
“Girl talk, later,” I say, pointing between us.
“Where’s your other half?” I hear Dad say to Ryan.
“Dropped him off at the house. He wanted to check on it and grab some of his stuff,” Ryan says.
“Slater shouldn’t be worrying about the house,” Mom cuts in. “Your dad goes over every week to check on it and to mow the lawn. And we have a gardener coming in once a month to maintain the backyard.” Slater’s mom was an avid gardener, and their backyard, although small, is testament to her considerable green thumb and her remarkable skill.
Dylan wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. He knows how much Janine’s death still affects me, and it’s like he has a hotwire to my emotional state. That he knows how sad I am right now.
We spent a lot of time with Slater and his mom over the years, and it saddens me so much that she was taken early. She had a tough life, and it doesn’t seem fair. To her or the only son she left behind. We are pretty much all Slater has by way of family now, and I know he’s been struggling since her passing and that Ryan’s really worried about him.
“I think he just wanted some alone time, Ma,” Ryan adds. “Today’s been hard for him.”
Silence engulfs the room, only broken by the pitter-patter of little feet approaching. Dean and Annie’s twin two-year-old daughters burst into the kitchen. “Gramma! Gramma! We broz cake!”
Mom wipes her hands on her apron and crouches down in front of her only grandchildren. Tia shoves a box at her. Mom kisses her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart!” Then Mom kisses Mia on the cheek. “And you too, sweet girl.” Dad swoops in then, pulling Tia up into his arms and throwing her into the air.
She squeals in delight. “Again, Gramps. Again!”
“Oh my God, Paul, please don’t do that,” Annie, my brother’s wife says, bustling into the kitchen, looking stressed. “You’ll give me a coronary.”
Annie has been with my brother Dean since they were sixteen, and they married when they were twenty-four. The girls came along two years later.
Annie can be high-maintenance at times, and she has a tendency to overreact to things. Dean and Annie had one of those on-again, off-again relationships, and no one in the family ever expected them to end up married with kids, but they seem happy. On the outside at least. Because who the hell knows what really goes on behind closed doors?
“Dad, put her down or she’s liable to puke on you,” Dean says, materializing in the now-crowded kitchen. “When we weren’t looking, she demolished a couple of cupcakes in the car on the way here so her tummy’s a bit icky.”
Dad puts her down so fast it’s a wonder he didn’t give himself whiplash. I snort out a laugh, feeling Dylan’s chest rumbling with silent laughter behind me.
Mia starts tugging on Annie’s leg. “Me need go potty.”
Annie rubs a tense spot between her brows, looking even more hassled. Ryan and I share a look. “I’ll take her,” I suggest, holding out my hand. “Come on, Minnie Mia. Auntie Gabby will take you to the bathroom.” She grabs onto my hand willingly, grinning up at me, and my heart melts. I adore my two nieces even if they are a complete handful at times.
I bring her to the bathroom, trying desperately to decipher her endless stream of chatter, but I can only make out the odd few words. It’s actually amazing how advanced their vocab is for their ages, even if a specialist interpreter would come in handy sometimes.
The doorbell chimes as we reach the bottom of the stairs, and I haul Mia into my arms before opening the door.
Slater stands there with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders slouched. I take one look at his forlorn face, and a sharp ache spreads across my chest. “Go back to the kitchen, Mia. There’s a good girl.” I steer her in the right direction, and she toddles off. Straightening up, I refocus on the broken man still standing on the porch. Pulling the door closed, I step out beside him. “How are you holding up?” I peer up at him.
He kicks at imaginary dirt with the toe of his boot, shrugging. I take his hand and pull him over to the love seat, forcing him to sit down. I drop down beside him. “Have you spoken to anyone yet?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, Belle. I can’t force myself to open up to a stranger.” Slater was a complete mess the first month after his mom passed, and we were all so worried about him. I suggested he visit a therapist, and he said he’d consider it, but then he showed up on campus for the last few weeks of spring semester and threw himself back into college lif
e, and he seemed more like himself. I thought maybe he’d sought help and it was working.
“Well, then talk to a friend.” I know Ryan has tried talking to him, but he clams up. “If you can’t talk to Ryan, you can always talk to me. I won’t judge or ever share anything you confide in me.”
“Thanks, Belle. I know you wouldn’t, but I just …” He trails off, hanging his head.
I link my fingers through his and squeeze his hand. “Don’t bottle things up. It’s not healthy. Find someone you can talk to. Please.” I lower my voice. “I know how much you loved her, and it’s okay to give in to your grief. You need to let it out.”
His chest heaves, and a sob emits from his mouth. Tears prick the backs of my eyes. To see a big, sturdy guy like Slater so vulnerable is heartbreaking. I slide my arm around his broad shoulders, and he leans into me.
“It’s so fucking unfair,” he hisses. “She worked so hard all her life to make sure I had the best opportunity in life, and then she gets cancer and dies within three months.” He looks into my eyes. “What kind of God would do that? To her? To me?” His voice is choked, and I’m struggling to maintain my composure. “She was only starting to live her life again. For the first time, I was going to be able to take care of her. To repay her for everything she’s sacrificed for me, and that was taken from me too. I … I—”
“Dimples, you out here?” Dylan shouts, interrupting whatever Slater was about to say.
Slater scoots over to the other side of the love seat as if I’m diseased. Dylan steps outside and looks over at us, freezing on the spot. Slater hastily brushes his tears aside, getting up and eyeballing my boyfriend suspiciously. “Dylan.” He brushes past him, avoiding further eye contact before disappearing into the house.
“What’s going on?” Worry lines crease Dylan’s forehead as he drops down beside me.
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Slate’s struggling, and I was trying to get him to open up.”
Air whooshes out of his mouth, and he relaxes back in the seat. “I feel for the guy. I genuinely do, but he’s not your responsibility, babe.”
Something about that seriously pisses me off. “He’s my friend, Dylan, and I’m trying to help,” I snap. “He needs to talk to someone, and he can’t, or won’t, talk to Ryan.”
“Hey.” He grips my face, forcing me to look at him. “I know that, and it’s one of the things I love about you. You’re loyal to a fault, and I know you want to help, but I just meant maybe he needs to speak to a professional.”
My anger floats away. “He seems reluctant.”
“Gabrielle!” Mom’s high-pitched voice reaches me from the kitchen, and I stand.
“I better get in there and help before she blows a gasket.”
“Or burns the meat,” Dylan jokes, having sat through many of Mom’s overcooked efforts over the years.
“Yes, there’s that.” I stretch up on tiptoes and kiss him. “Is your mom still coming?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“When we discussed this on Friday, I told you to call your mom and invite her. Didn’t you do it?”
He pulls at his lips as he considers it. “Shit. I forgot.”
“Well, you better call her now. Tell her to come over, if she wants to. We have more than enough, and Mom already assumes she’s coming.”
I’m shaking my head as I leave him on the porch to call his mom. I don’t know why he’s such a scatterbrain at the minute. I think this robotics project has him more stressed out than usual.
I help Mom in the kitchen while everyone else mingles outside. Dylan comes back in, stating Heather isn’t coming. Apparently, she made plans with her yoga crowd when her son failed to confirm if we were dropping by today or not.
Once we are seated outside, with heaped plates in front of us, Dad shushes everyone and gives a little speech. We all look up at him, and he scans the table before clearing his throat. “Looking around the table today, at the faces of all those I love and hold dear to me, is a reminder of how precious and fragile life is. Every one of you means the world to me and Lucy, and we want you to know you are cherished and loved.”
He clamps his hand on Slater’s shoulder. “It’s been six months since we tragically lost Janine. An angel taken from our world way too soon. She was a special lady. An amazing mother and a fantastic friend.” Tears roll down my face, and as I look around the table, I see I’m not the only one. Most everyone has tears in their eyes. Even the guys.
Dad focuses on Slater. “We know you’re hurting, son, and I wish I could take your pain away. I hope you know you’ll always have a place at this table and in our home. We love you, and we’re here for you.”
Slater’s jaw is rigidly tight, and he’s struggling to hold things together. However, he summons courage, placing his hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Thank you, Paul. That means a lot to me. You all mean a lot to me, and I could not have gotten through this without your support.”
“We’ll always have your back, man. Always,” Ryan says.
Slater nods, offering a weak smile.
“Today, we honor Janine in the best way we know how,” Dad continues, his voice dripping in emotion. “By sharing a meal, enjoying our family time, and with as much laughter as we can manage. So, I’ll ask you to raise your glasses to the sky,” he says, and we all oblige. Even Mia and Tia raise their plastic cups, on their best behavior as if some inner sense has told them it’s important to be solemn and quiet. “And toast the wonderful woman we all miss. To Janine.”
“To Janine.” We speak uniformly, chinking our glasses and toasting Slater’s beautiful angel in the sky.
After dessert, we move to the gazebo area, taking up spots on the couches as we watch the girls race around the garden playing. Conversation has flowed smoothly, but it’s more understated than usual. Slater has been unbelievably quiet, and my heart aches for him.
“Tornado,” Ryan says, claiming my attention. “We’re heading to the graveyard now if you want to come.”
“I don’t see the point,” Dylan says before I’ve had time to reply affirmatively.
I sit up straighter, twisting around to look at him with a puzzled look on my face. “What point?”
“The point of visiting a graveyard. It’s not like the person is still there or anything. It’s just a bunch of decaying bones in a box in the ground.”
There’s a collective sharp intake of breath, and I stare at my boyfriend as if he’s grown ten heads. “Dylan! Don’t be so insensitive.”
“What?” He shrugs like it’s no biggie. “I’m just saying what everyone thinks.”
Slater stands, hands balled at his sides, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Thanks for your sympathy, douche.”
He storms off. Ryan glares at Dylan. “What the fuck, man?”
Dylan just shrugs again, and Ryan sends me a weird look before chasing after his friend.
“You need to apologize to him.” I work hard to keep the anger from my voice.
“For what?” Dylan shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “Speaking the truth?”
I jump up. “For being an insensitive asshole! The guy only lost his mother six months ago! She was the only parent he’s ever known, and he was devoted to her! And you may be a Bible-bashing atheist, but Janine was deeply religious, and if going to the graveyard helps Slate, then we should support him.”
“Why?” He shrugs. “What’s he to me?”
I need to leave before I truly say something I regret. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, Dylan, because I know this isn’t you, but you Goddamned will apologize to Slate. It’s the least you can do.”
There’s a deathly hush in the gazebo as everyone listens with bated breath. Dylan and I are usually a drama-free zone, so this is most unusual, and I’m sensing no one really knows what to do—whether to intervene or let it run its c
ourse.
“You don’t tell me what to do. You’re my girlfriend, not my fucking mother.”
I, honest to goodness, feel like punching my boyfriend in his tactless mouth. I can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth or the nerve of him to say it in front of everyone. I thought he had more respect for me and for my parents. I’m not sure what Dad sees on my face, but he stands, placing a hand on my elbow. “Buttercup.”
“Dad. Don’t.” I shuck out of his hold. “I’m going after Slate.” I look at Dylan, seeing how he’ll react.
“What? I’m not stopping you.” He feigns indifference, but his nostrils flare, and he’s a bit red in the face, so I’m not buying it for a second.
Ignoring the sharp stab of pain that shoots through my heart, I grab my purse and take off without uttering another word.
Chapter Five
Taking Mom’s car, I catch up to the guys at the cemetery. Ryan and Slater are sitting down in front of Janine’s grave with their knees bent and matching solemn expressions. I drop down beside Slater, resting my head on his shoulder. “Did you do that?” he asks in a strained voice, pointing at the neat flowerbed.
Lifting my head, I nod. “Mom and I came here last weekend. The flowerbed was a bit neglected, so we tidied it up and bedded some new plants.”
With tenderness in his eyes, he leans in and kisses my cheek. “Thank you, Belle.” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, and tears glisten in his eyes. Ryan looks helplessly at me behind his back.
“It’s no problem. I know how much enjoyment your mom got from gardening, and I think she’d like it.”
He squeezes my hand. I want to say something. To apologize for Dylan’s insensitivity, but I don’t want to get into it here. It feels disrespectful. We sit there, not speaking for ages, until Slater quietly asks us to give him some time alone with his mom. Ryan and I amble back to the parking lot.
When Forever Changes Page 4