“Take your time,” Mitch says. “We’ll be here.”
Without meeting anyone’s eye, I walk through the bar and out onto the street, pushing down the storm of emotions that’s building inside me. Evening has settled over the landscape, painting everything in shades of gold and shadow. I shove myhands in my pockets and start walking, no destination in mind, but grateful to have some time alone to think.
The changes hit me harder now that I’m really looking. A vegetable garden thrives where empty beer bottles used to litter the ground. A communal BBQ has been built around a fire pit that Dad’s lieutenants would hang out around late into the night. Fresh paint brightens houses that were peeling under Leon’s rule.
“Bodhi?” A young woman emerges from one house, baby balanced on her hip. Sarah, I think. She was just a teenager when I left, the same age as me. “Is it really you?”
The baby stares at me with round eyes, one chubby fist wrapped around its mother’s hair. He can sense my bear, the power contained within me, and he’s transfixed.
Sarah’s face lights up with genuine pleasure. “I heard you were back. Does this mean you’re staying?”
The hope in her voice makes my chest tight. Before I can answer, more doors open. People drift onto porches and into yards, drawn by curiosity, or maybe just the novelty of seeing the prodigal son return.
“He looks like Marcus,” someone mutters from a shadowed doorway. “On steroids.”
“I heard his bear is the size of a van,” another voice whispers. “Stood in front of a speeding car once to save his brother’s mate.”
I don’t know whether to be more concerned that they know about this stuff, or that they seem happy about it.
Nodding politely in greeting, I keep walking, past a new playground where cubs chase each other in the fading light, their laughter carrying on the breeze. Past what looks like a community centre with lights blazing, voices drifting through open windows, and a clinic with an actual medical sign hanging outside instead of the boarded-up windows I remember.
“Bodhi.” Mitch’s voice calls from somewhere behind me. I turn to see him striding behind me, a toolbox hanging from one hand, any self-pity pushed aside by his built-in sense of duty to his clan. “Want to make yourself useful while you’re here?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, just keeps walking toward a half-built structure near the treeline. Against my better judgment, I follow.
The skeleton of a small house stands in a cleared lot, and fresh lumber gleams pale in the twilight. Mitch sets down his toolbox and pulls out a hammer, testing its weight in his hand.
“What is this?” I ask, studying the frame. One of my many jobs while I roamed from territory to territory was construction. Being this big can be a hindrance, but not in that line of work. Something my brother Ben put to good use making us extend his house recently.
“Starter home.” He selects a handful of nails from a box. “Young couple, first cub on the way. They’ve been living with her parents, but that’s no way to start a family. He’s been struggling to find a job because Dad got him to be the getaway driver, unknowingly, for a heist he pulled, and he got caught.”
I growl. It’s a familiar story. Someone else’s future prospects ruined by Leon’s selfishness. It was how he made sure clan members had no choice but to become part of his crew. Get them a record early, and they have no other option.
Mitch tosses me a hammer. I catch it automatically; the wooden handle smooth and familiar in my grip. Generosity wasn’t a hallmark of my father’s leadership, but it looks like that’s another thing Mitch is trying to change.
He lines up a support beam, holding it steady. “You gonna help or just stand there looking confused?”
For a moment I do exactly that, just stand and stare, hammer dangling from my hand, then I step up beside him and hold thebeam while he starts the first nail, proud of what he’s achieved in such a short space of time.
The rhythm comes back easily, and we work well together, falling into the unspoken communication siblings have. My bear slowly relaxes, relishing the physical exertion and enjoying the simple work. I strip off my shirt, the sweat on my skin cooling as the sun sinks lower.
The sound of hammering draws others like a beacon. First one, then three, then half a dozen clan members appear with their own tools. Someone strings up work lights as darkness begins to fall. Someone else appears with sandwiches and thermoses of coffee.
“Looking good,” an older man says, running his hand along a freshly secured beam.
Frank, I remember. He used to run the garage before Leon shut it down for not being profitable enough. I suspect Frank refused to use it as a front for some of his illegal activities, and that was Dad’s way of putting him back in his place.
“At this rate, we’ll have walls up by the weekend.”
More people arrive as word spreads. Cubs run between their parents’ legs, chasing fireflies and shrieking with laughter. It’s chaos, but organized chaos. Everyone seems to know their role without being told.
Normal life, better than before, continues despite the drama Garrett is trying to stir up. This is Mitch’s way of bringing stability to the clan, no matter what’s going on, and I can see how at ease it makes everyone to see him unruffled.
Which is exactly what Emma wants: for me to be her calm in the storm, not the waves that drown her.
A small boy points at me with a sticky hand from whatever he’s been eating. “Mama said he’s the strongest bear ever.”
His mother swoops in, scooping him up with an apologetic look in my direction. “Sorry about that. He’s been asking about you since he heard you were back.”
