Page 5 of His for the Holiday

3

HAWK

Afew days after I’d gotten that call from Emery, I couldn’t help wondering just why the fuck I had come back to Portsmouth.

Since it had been her idea for me to come, I would have thought my sister would be pleased to have me home, but I’d dropped in on her with no notice and now she was yelling at me while trying to throw dinner together in the crockpot so she could move on with her day.

“If you have a problem bunking with the twins tonight, get a hotel room,” she said as she angrily tore a knife through some carrots and tossed them in the pot. “You can afford it. No one is forcing you to stay with us.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s my home too,” I reminded her. “Plus, all I asked was why I had to bunk with them. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

“No, but you did complain about having to share a room with your nephews for the night,” she said sharply. “Unless, and I quote, ‘I’m not going to get any sleep tonight’ means something else in Los Angeles than it does here.”

I put my hands up, watching as she obliterated some potatoes before adding them to the pot as well. “Okay, jeez, but what do you want me to do? I’m here to spend time with my family over Thanksgiving, right? I can’t do that if I’m in a hotel.”

“Well, in that case, I have an idea.” I saw the evil smile as she abandoned the crockpot and headed over to the scullery instead.

She emerged a minute later with a bucket, mop, and fresh linens, dumping them in my arms. “There you go. Get the attic ready and you can stay there instead.”

“I’m fine with that,” I said easily, and I meant it too, until I got up there and saw the state it was in.

The attic had been my bedroom all through my teenage years and it was untouched, save for a few new piles of boxes, crates full of Christmas decorations, and a whole lot of dust. I coughed a little where I stood in the doorway, surveying the little space that used to be my own.

My family’s house still looked and smelled exactly the same. I’d been struck by it as soon as I’d walked in the door, realizing that they hadn’t even changed the positioning of Dad’s old pictures on the mantel since I’d last been here.

Emery and her boys lived here now, and yet, outside of the influx of toys, sporting equipment, and a swing set on the front lawn, the place might’ve been a time capsule of the day I’d left here after I’d gotten my first job offer in California.

I shook my head as I looked at all my old stuff, the posters of ships on the wall with their corners curling and the hockey trophies I’d once been so proud of. Finally stepping into the room, I glanced at the mop and bucket I was carrying and got to work, scoffing a little as I thought about how long it’d been since I’d cleaned up like this.

I’d never forgotten how to do it though, and once I hit my stride in a space where I’d done this exact thing thousands of times, it actually became pretty cathartic. As I passed the dresser with my old CD player still sitting on it, I took a chance and hit the power button, and to my complete surprise, the damn thing went on.

A moment later, the opening strands of my favorite punk song from the oughts started playing and I laughed, stoked that it was still working—and that the CD seemed just fine.

Losing myself in the memories of the last time I’d listened to this, the cleaning up part of my day flew by and when I was done, I put fresh sheets on the rickety twin bed, then pressed stop on the CD player and headed back downstairs.

There would be plenty of time to relive what I’d thought had been my glory days later. For now, I needed to get back to my family. And not a moment too soon, it seems.

“I reminded you about this appointment yesterday, Daddy.” Emery’s emphatic voice drifted up the stairs as I descended. I paused to listen. “This is that specialist I told you about, remember? He’s really good and this is the earliest I could get you in to see him. It’s a town over, so we’re probably going to be late picking up the boys from school, but we really do need to get going.”

“Can’t do it today,” Dad said gruffly. “I have to get down to the docks.”

That’s my cue.

I took the last few steps down two at a time, grinning and pressing my palms together. I strode around the corner, joining them in the kitchen. “What’s this I heard about a specialist?”

“Oh, good.” Emery turned to me, her hands on her hips and her cheeks glowing with frustration. “Tell Dad he needs to get in my car, or we’re going to be late for an appointment it took me four months to even get.”

“You should really get in the car, Dad,” I said, once again surprised by how much older he looked in person than he did on the occasional video calls Emery bullied him into doing with me.

The lines etched into his face were deep and rough, his cheeks gaunt, and his frame leaner than it’d ever been. Thanks to spending the better part of his life out on the water, his skin had always been tanned, but it seemed leathery now, peppered with blooming bluish and brownish smudges, and his once-dark hair had turned almost completely silver.

He slid his blue gaze to my own, his brow furrowed as he shook his head at me. “Don’t tell me what to do, boy. You don’t even live here anymore.”

“Sure, I don’t, but I can carry you,” I said, about to threaten to pick him up when Emery shot me a wide-eyed warning of a look and gave her head a single, but very firm shake.

Silently admitting defeat, I arched an eyebrow at her. “Okay, well, how about this? I’ll go fetch the boys from school so you don’t have to worry about it. Bayshore is within walking distance anyway and I haven’t been out to explore yet since I got to town.”

“Your flight got in a few hours ago,” she said, but before she could either agree or disagree with my plan, Dad got up.