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We didn’t say anything at first, just stared at each other. Parker hardly even looked like the same person who moved away to college with a determined gleam in his eye, desperate to make his mark on the football field, hungry to prove himself.
He was taller than me now, with the effortlessly strong build of a professional athlete. When I thought about Parker, who he used to be, it was easy charm and a quick smile. The one who teased his sisters and laughed often.
The man in front of me had a haunted edge to his eyes. Like he wasn’t sleeping well and hadn’t laughed or smiled in months.
Part of me wanted to ball up my fist and smash it into his face because it wasn’t easy for any of us. But the bigger part of me still saw him as a little kid who cried himself to sleep for weeks after our mom died.
When he didn’t speak right away, I set my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Finally, he pulled his eyes from Dad and met mine. What I saw there erased any fist-clenching desire to unload my frustration over the distance he’d kept.
The hand on his shoulder tightened, and I tugged him in for an embrace. My little brother held me so tightly that for a moment I almost pulled away, because I was afraid he’d splinter the framework that had help me up this entire time.
“I don’t know how to do this, Cameron.”
It sounded like he hadn’t spoken in days, maybe weeks. It didn’t sound like my little brother, but I knew it was him.
I pulled back and set my hand on the side of his face. “None of us do, Parker. That’s why we do it together.”
Eventually, he nodded, then took a deep breath and started walking toward the house. In the windows, I saw the rest of the family watching. Greer and Adaline flanked Sheila, their arms tight around her, and she didn’t even attempt to wipe the tears off her face.
Dad was standing, his eyes clear and so damn proud that I felt an ominous creak in my chest, like something was about to split open.
Ian was just behind him, watching Dad’s balance carefully.
I dropped my hand off Parker’s shoulder as he slowly ascended the steps. He stopped in front of Dad, a tear sliding down the side of his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he said in a broken voice.
“No apologies between you and me, kid,” Dad said. “You’re here, and that’s what matters to me. Okay?”
Parker’s eyes were red, his jaw so tight it looked like it might crack.
My dad took a shuffling step, pulling Parker in for a hug. He looked so small with Parker’s arms wrapped around him, and I had to stare down at the floor when Parker’s first sob broke open from his throat.
Parker shifted, allowing room for Ian when he wrapped his arms around both of them. Dad held his hand out to me, and it was impossible to breathe with the way someone had their fist tight around my throat. I clapped my hand around Parker’s shoulder, felt Ian’s on mine. Dad’s arm, thin and not nearly as strong as it used to be, anchored around my waist.
Are you okay? I heard her voice in my head while my brothers and I stood there holding my dad.
No.
No, I wasn’t.
Ian was the first one to pull back, and I met his eyes over Parker’s head. He nodded.
Parker drew back, swiping a hand underneath his eye.
When he exhaled, his shoulders dropped two inches. He’d been carrying that weight for months, a different kind than the one I took on, but it was still heavy.
I helped Dad ease back down into his wheelchair.
He smiled up at Parker and Ian sharing a tight hug. “All my kids home,” he said on a happy sigh. “It’s about damn time.”
Parker eyed Ian, then shoved his shoulder. “You need a haircut. You look like shit.”
Dad and I laughed, and the burst of sound was such a relief that the heavy tension surrounding Parker’s arrival disappeared in a quick burst.
Ian shoved him back, but Parker hardly moved.
“I’m bigger than you now,” Parker said, lips edging up in a smirk.
Ian grimaced. “How much time you spend in that fucking weight room?”
