“He was going to, but I wanted to have a second to check in with you.” His eyes move from me to the bottle of whiskey. “See how you’re really doing, without the others around.”
I grab the crutches and go around him to the bench by the door where my shoes are. “I’m fucking great, Max. Why wouldn’t I be?” Sarcasm drips from every word.
“Huh. Okay, cool. So, I’ll just ignore the fact that you’re going through booze like it’s water, clearly not taking your painkillers, oh, and you haven’t even told Mom and Dad you’re back.”
My head whips up. “How the fuck do you know that?”
Max shakes his head at me, making me hate myself even more when I see the disappointment mixed with pity in his eyes. “Bro, there’s already an empty bottle on the counter and you’ve been here what, two days? Three? At least your prescription meds are sitting there untouched. I guess that’s the one smart choice you’re making by not mixing the two. And Mom called me. She’s worried about you. We all are.”
I lift a hand to rub at my chest, as if I’m trying to erase the pang of guilt his words spark inside of me. I’m the one suffering, not them. Why should I be so concerned with how they’re feeling?
“Obviously, I’m not a dumbass who’s going to mix pills and booze. And even more obviously, Mom and Dad know I’m here, just like you and the boys do. They just happen to have the decency to give me some goddamn space.”
“I don’t think space is what you need, brother.”
My eyes narrow in a glare. “Well, you’d be wrong. Can we just go to dinner?”
Max stares at me for a long second before giving a brief nod and walking over. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The drive to our childhood home is silent, aside from my asking where Heidi, Max’s girlfriend, is tonight. Apparently, she’s in Vancouver, visiting her best friend.
Lucky her.
When we pull in the driveway, Mom’s already standing outside, her arms wrapped around her middle. I turn to Max accusingly. “Really?”
He just shrugs. “What? All I did was text that we were on our way.” I reach for the door handle, and he stops me, his hand gripping my shoulder. “Look Jude, I know you’re struggling. If you need to get mad at someone, yell or hit something, call me. I can handle it. Don’t take it out on anyone else, okay? That’s all I’m gonna ask.”
I sit still, not moving at all. I know I’m not easy to be around right now, but it hurts that he thinks I’d intentionally be mean to anyone, especially my family. “Yeah. Fine.”
I open the door and unfold my large frame from Max’s car. He comes around the back and hands me my crutches silently. Slowly, I make my way up to the front porch where my mother is waiting.
Not a day goes by that I don’t know how blessed I am with my family. Claire and Dennis Donnelly created a home full of safety, warmth, love, and respect. And they instilled all of that in each of us kids. We’re close, and honestly, being apart from them was the one negative to my career in Montana. I know I’ve been hurting them with how I’m shutting everyone out right now. But I don’t think I fully let myself admit how unfair that was to my parents until just now when I see the tears in Mom’s eyes.
“Hey, Mom,” I say gruffly.
“Oh, Jude.” Her small but strong arms are wrapped around me, and I awkwardly let go of one crutch so I can hug her back. “I’m glad you’re here, honey.”
She steps back and looks me up and down slowly. “You’re thin. You aren’t eating properly, are you? And what’s this?” Her hand reaches out to touch my cheek, covered in a thick scruff. I fight the urge to pull away. I haven’t felt an affectionate touch since right after surgery when they came to visit me in the hospital. Even Shelley wouldn’t come too close; I guess she was already on her way out before the anesthetic wore off.
“Well, come on inside. I’ve cooked all your favourites tonight.”
We head inside, and Mom leads me to the living room where Dad’s recliner chair is vacant. “Here you go.”
I arch my brow at her. “That’s Dad’s chair. No one sits in Dad’s chair.”
“You do tonight, son.” I turn at the sound of my father’s deep voice to see him shuffling into the room, the slight limp from his accident years ago still visible. “Take it.”
I know better than to argue with him, so I sit, sinking down and using the lever to lift the footrest gratefully.
“Hey, what the heck? How come Beatle’s in Dad’s chair?”
“Stop calling me that,” I grumble at Sawyer.
“But I’ve been calling you that since we were kids. I can’t stop now.” He blinks innocently at me before handing me a beer.
“This,” I say, lifting the bottle, “Is the only reason I’m not fighting you on it right now.”
“I can accept that.” He sinks down on the couch beside my chair just as the door opens and what feels like a crowd of people come in. In reality, it’s only Kat, Hunter, Leo, Serena, and Leo’s daughter Violet. But after being basically a recluse for several weeks, the increase in bodies and volume is overwhelming. One by one, my family file over to me, say hi, ask how I’m doing, and in Kat’s instance, throw their arms around my neck for a strangling hug.
