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She nodded emphatically. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you would ever want to after...your baby was taken.”
My arms tightened around Adeline, minutely, before I told her what was on my mind. “I don’t think I did before. Now, though, well I don’t want to be half a man for the rest of my life. I’ve lost too much, and I don’t want to lose anything else. I want to have babies with you. Grow old with you. Watch my grandkids jump off our dock and swim. To be honest, I’ve lost too muchnotto try. I have to have hope that life won’t keep taking from me. It’s time to live again.”
CHAPTER 16
A Halligan Bar is one of the most versatile tools used in the fire service industry. If you can’t get in with a Halligan, you’re fucked.
-Kettle
ADELINE
Two days later we had a full list of things we needed to do.
The morning went surprisingly well, even though both of us had no clothes or food due to the fire. Still. We’d been living on the bare minimum for the past couple of days. Wearing what clothes Sebastian had at his place. Most of them were summer clothes, which worked out well since it was unseasonably warm for this time of the year.
Kettle had gotten a call that morning saying Shannon’s remains were released to us, and we could plan her funeral accordingly. Most of it had already been arranged as we were just waiting on her remains to be released before we scheduled a final time.
Not having any food had made us venture out earlier than we’d intended to the local diner for breakfast. After stopping by the church to settle on a time for Shannon’s funeral, we’d stopped at a store on the way home. We had to take his truck seeing as he had nothing in his house. And by nothing, I mean absolutely nothing.
Pots, pans, dishes, food, silverware, bathroom supplies, cleaners, towels. The list went on and on. The total that Kettle had to pay at the end of the excursion was close to a grand, and made me cringe when I thought about it.
Luckily, it was a nice day to carry bag after bag of groceries and supplies into the house. It was nearly seventy degrees out, and the perfect day in my opinion.
We’d just gotten the last bag out of the truck and in to the house when the doorbell rang, causing me to turn and regard it with trepidation.
Kettle didn’t show the least bit of reluctance, though. Instead, he dropped his bag with the others, and walked to the door sedately before opening it for his mother.
I made it to the door to lean into his back just in time to see the tears start to shimmer in her blue eyes. The same color as her son’s.
Kettle’s mother was beautiful. Her hair was brown, and hung in a trendy bob just underneath her chin. Pale silver strands were interspersed throughout her locks. She was wearing jeans and a fitted shirt, showing off her curvy, slim body, despite her age. I could only hope to look that good after two kids and thirty years on me.
“Oh, Tiago. I’ve missed you so.” She wept.
Kettle’s back tensed slightly before tapping my thigh and moving forward, taking his mother into a hug for the first time in sixteen years.
Her weeping turned to sobs as her son enfolded her into his big arms, and I backed away, letting them have the moment that they so desperately deserved.
Needing something to do, I grabbed my cell phone off the table and walked outside. I went out onto Kettle’s deck that had seen better days, and walked down to the dock. The chair that I’d stolen from Sebastian was gone, and I sighed as I dropped down to my haunches before taking a seat on the deck, letting my feet dangle over the sides.
Luckily, the deck was far enough off the water; otherwise, my feet would be dipped into the freezing lake below.
My eyes trailed over the water, watching the beauty of it sway and roll gently in the wind before turning to my phone and punching in my sister’s number.
“Hello?” She answered.
“Hey, Vid. Merry Christmas.” I replied snidely.
I could hear the TV in the background as Viddy listened to the morning news, as she always did.
“Hey, sister. How was your Christmas?” She asked distractedly.
My jaw clenched, and my anger started to rise.
I’d called my sister the night of the fire, knowing I needed to talk to someone; she’d always been my first choice. But she hadn’t answered, and I’d needed her desperately.
I’d called four more times in the past two days, and this was the first time she’d answered in all those times. She’d replied with a text message each of those times.‘Busy, I’ll call you when I can.’
“What’s going on with you? Why didn’t you call me back?” I asked in exasperation.
