Broken souls.
Lies. Love. Grief. Guilt.
Such a mess, made by people who love one another.
Family.
“We’re all fixers,” Uncle Mal says eventually, his voice weak. “Doing things for one another that we think are right. Sinclair hired Halliday for your father. To bring him love. And he assigned Denver to Sinclair, knowing that the right circumstances would open her eyes. And he sent a private jet to bring Tate home from the tour she never wanted to be on.
“And Sullivan… he gave a record label rent-free prime real estate so their offices could open in the city where Tate would be happy working. Sorry, Sullivan,” he adds as Tate turns to my brother with a look of surprise.
“Temporary discount, that’s all,” Sullivan grumbles, but his mouth softens to a hint of a smile as Tate slides her arms around his waist and leans into his side.
“The point is,” Uncle Mal continues, “we fix things. Because we’re family. We’re the Beauforts. I’m just sorry that I let you all down, and instead of fixing things that day, I broke us.” His voice cracks. “I goddamn broke us.”
Everyone’s eyes are on me. Waiting to see what I’ll do.
I squeeze Jude’s hand, and she squeezes mine back.
“You’re okay. I’m here,” she whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, loving her even more in this moment.
Standing, I make my way to my uncle.
“Uncle Mal?” I say.
He stands and faces me with the eyes of a man at rock bottom who’s lost faith that up even exists anymore. I understand that better than anyone in this room. I understand what it’s like to blame yourself for losing someone. For causing a death. And despite that burden being lifted from me after all these years, Uncle Mal’s never will be.
A man died in that fire, whoever he was.
And I know what that will do to him if he’s left to deal with it alone.
Because until Jude, I was alone.
I glance at her, and she nods, tears coating her cheeks as she understands what I’m about to do.
Because she knows me.
I’m a man she can actually love.
I blink hard and my throat thickens and throbs as I step forward.
I wrap my arms around my uncle and I hold him.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
“It’ll be okay,” I tell him in his ear. “I’ve got you. We’veallgot you.”
That’s when I feel them.
Hands.
My father’s, brother’s, sister’s.
One by one, all appearing beside us and reaching out to hold one another up.
And finally, I let my tears fall.
