Page 33 of SEAL of Valor

Wanted to tell him how much I appreciate everything he’s done for my mom, but I can’t make any of the words come out.

They’re all trapped behind walls I’m too terrified to take down.

Chapter 10

Weston

“Here.” I set the last load of crocheted stuffed animals down on the table in Momma Knox’s festival booth.

She beams up at me. “Thank you, Weston.”

“Of course. Anything else?” After almost a week of not sleeping and doing everything I could to avoid accidentally running into Reese, I’m having to plaster on a fake smile and act as though my world isn’t collapsing around me.

Thankfully, fall festival preparations have taken up nearly all of my mental capacity today, leaving me little time to obsess over my interaction with Reese four days ago, or the fact that I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around the doctors finding medication not prescribed to Vivian in her bloodstream.

Memories of my mom come rushing back once again.

Of pills that came out of unlabeled bottles.

Even though I know without a doubt Vivian wouldn’t touch them, it’s still there. Lingering. Taunting me with the idea that yet another woman in my life has decided to give up.

“If you wouldn’t mind helping Zane set up the display shelves, that would be so great.” She gestures back toward her son, who is currently staring down at a pile of wood that will eventually be a shelving system to hold all of Momma Knox’s crocheted creations and Anastasia’s homemade coffee mug collection.

A hobby she picked up a few months ago and has already turned into a profitable addition to her coffee shop.

“I don’t mind at all. He looks like he could use some adult supervision,” I joke.

She laughs.

“I heard that,” Zane mutters when I move behind the table and toward him. “And I’d honestly be offended if it weren’t true. How are there so many pieces? If she’d just let me build her one, then I’d at least know where all the pieces go.”

Chuckling, I reach down and lift one of the taller pieces that will serve as the end cap. “They aren’t going to put themselves together.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Reaching down, he lifts the other end cap and hands it to me, then begins arranging shelves by size.

“Weather report said we have a nasty storm headed our way early next week,” I tell him. “We’ll need to get this broken down right after the festival ends tomorrow night.” They almost canceled the event altogether, but the weather station insists it will be clear skies until Sunday afternoon.

Here’s hoping he’s right.

“I already told Mom that, too,” he says. “As soon as I finish here, I’m going to head to the marina and make sure the boat is good to go.”

“I’ve already started with preparations on the ranch. I’ve got two more pastures to ride so I can make sure any low branches are trimmed away from the fence.”

“Yet here we are, building shelves,” he says with a laugh as he raises one of the shelves and clicks it into place between the two end caps.

“Here we are,” I reply. “Remember that first fall festival Momma Knox sold at? It took us nearly an entire day just to organize all of the things she’d made.”

“And then she sold completely out and made even more the next year,” Zane replies with a shake of his head. “Yeah, I remember that.” He snorts. “My dad would get so frustrated that there wasn’t anywhere in the house to sit during the weeks leading up to the festivals. But he never said anything to her.” Zane’s expression falters a bit. I know that, no matter how many years pass, Zane still misses his dad. The guy was as good as they come and a stark reminder of what I’d never have.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring him up.”

Zane shakes his head. “No apology necessary. I like talking about my dad. He would be happy with how things turned out, I think.”

“He’d be proud of you, Cap, that’s for sure.”

“And you,” Zane replies with a pointed look in my direction. “You know he always thought of you like another son.”

Would he be proud of me? I have a seriously difficult time believing that to be true. Especially after I nearly followed in my old man’s footsteps and became a self-serving alcoholic.