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Seth wanted to say it was good to be home. Right now, it felt like hell.
No, it felt like defeat.
Emerging from the airport to a telltale overcast gray and the scent of snow after so many balmy blue Los Angeles days was a rude awakening. Seth hadn’t packed a winter coat. He’d worn a hoodie, which had been more than warm enough out west. Now, he was fucking freezing. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together vigorously.
“How’s everyone else?” he asked as they reached her car.
The West Coast sliding into the ocean had been only one of Seth’s fears before jetting out to LA. The other had been leaving his family. Since his father’s death, Seth had been head of the household. For fifteen years, he’d helped his mother cope, pay bills, maintain the house, and keep his four younger brothers in line. In the grand scheme of life, his three weeks’ absence equaled three minutes. But he also knew from experience things could go horribly wrong in the blink of an eye.
“Fine. Anxious to see you.” She cast him a curious glance. “We expected you home weeks ago.”
Yeah, he’d expected to be home much sooner, too. Seth didn’t have an excuse, other than his dick—and his heart—had been stupid. And he was fucking furious that he’d let himself be led around by either. But he kept that to himself.
“How’s Maggie feeling?” he asked as he climbed into the passenger’s seat and turned on the heater. “She’s getting really close to her due date.”
“The poor girl looks ready to burst, and last night was rough,” Mom answered as she pulled out of the lot.
“Danny handling that all right?”
Seth remembered the night Danny had shown up at his door and shoved a six-pack in his hands, apprehension blazing in his eyes. After shooting the shit and draining three beers, his brother had finally confessed that Maggie was pregnant. Seth had put on a big show of being happy for them and banked the rest, especially since his mother was thrilled. There hadn’t been a baby in the house for years.
“I think so. Matthew, Jack, and Conner are all good. And Matty has a surprise for you. He finished up the cradle you’d been making for Christmas.”
Seth scowled. “It was my gift. Why did he do that?”
“Oh, honey. He was only trying to help.”
He probably had been, but Seth had been looking forward to getting lost in the project. Carving something beautiful from a simple block of wood had brought him peace, especially in recent years. Matt finishing the cradle had robbed Seth of some much-needed serenity. Of course, Matt had done a great job. Their father had painstakingly taught them both to work wood. But having the ability to finish the cradle didn’t give Matt the right.
“Well, I’m here now, so I’ll put the beeswax on it before Christmas Day…or the baby’s birth, whichever comes first.”
“Matty did that, too.”
Seth stared. So basically, he was useless?
“Don’t scowl. The warm honey color looks amazing.” His mom patted his hand. “They’re going to be thrilled and touched by your gift. That’s what’s important.”
Since Mom was right, he let his irritation go. “Did the mattress arrive yet?”
“Yes. I tucked it away before anyone saw it.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome.” She sighed wistfully. “I wish your father was here to see our family now. But then, I tend to believe he’s only a whisper away, watching over us all…”
Seth had been sixteen when his father had been killed in the line of duty. That miserable day and the aftermath were still imprinted on his soul. The crushing shock. The parade of somber strangers who’d converged on their house. The funeral procession that had wound down the streets like an ocean of officers dressed in blue. The eerie wail of the bagpipes crying out “Amazing Grace” still haunted him. Despite the devastation, their mother had been a force of nature and seen the family through.
Years later, tragedy had struck again. Though his family had rallied together with all their strength and love, it had taken years to heal.
Sometimes Seth wondered if he ever really had.
He and his mom each slipped into silence. Snow flurries began to sweep across the landscape as she navigated the busy roads brimming with both rush-hour and holiday traffic. His thoughts drifted.
Echoes of another Christmas slid through him. Then, like now, the city had been decorated in festive lights and snow blanketed the ground. As always, ghosts of guilt and remorse raked him. What-ifs echoed down the years, which would linger long after he and his mother had lit candles in remembrance.
Shelving his gloom, he turned and caught the knowing sadness on her face. “Try not to dwell on it, sweetheart. We’ll get through the holidays. We always do. Tell me about Los Angeles.”
