Page 109 of Wreckage and Rain

The honesty stops Daddy for a half-second. Greg King has spent his life winnowing through men's bullshit and the truth is something he knows when he hears it. He nods. Once. Releases the hand.

"Welcome back."

That is the whole sentence. Welcome back. Coming from Greg King that is an aria.

Behind him, Mama is wiping her hands on a dish towel, her eyes wet. Jake is at the counter holding a beer with his lawyer face on. Autumn is in booth four with her boots on the rung, smug as a cat. She flew down on Sunday for this exact moment because she doesn't miss anything in this family.

Mama hugs Colt next. She is five-four, and she hugs him with the upper-body strength of a woman who has lifted a thousand industrial-sized trays of cornbread. She gets up on her tiptoes to put her mouth right next to his ear, and I see his eyes close because he knows what is coming.

"Colton Bennet. Listen to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You break my baby again and I will handle it myself. Are you hearing me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm not joking, son."

"I know you aren't."

"Look at me."

He looks at her.

"Welcome home."

She kisses his cheek. Releases him. Pats his chest twice, the all-clear pat, and turns to the kitchen yelling, "GREG, THE CORNBREAD."

Jake comes off the counter. Sets his beer down. Walks up to Colt and stares at him for a full three seconds before he offers his hand. The Jake Holloway shake is shorter than Greg's and contains, in the squeeze, a paragraph of information about what will happen if Colt fails again. Jake learned that grip from Greg. He has been carrying it on Summer's behalf since he was ten.

"Holloway."

"Bennet."

"You good?"

"Getting there."

"Don't make me regret being civil."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Jake claps him on the shoulder. Twice. The all-clear from a brother who isn't my brother by blood. Colt's shoulders come down a half-inch.

Then it's Autumn. She gets up from booth four and looks at me first, the long look that checks my actual face and not the one I put on. Whatever she sees, she nods.

"How was the drive."

"Long. Good. Both."

"You two talk?"

"We talked."

"Hmph." She looks at Colt. "She sleep okay?"

"Better than me," he says.