I let myself fully exhale for the first time in several minutes.
Closing the space between us, I wrap my arms around my brother and hug him. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.” It’s an assurance I can confidently make. This new relationship with Mercer, Noah, and Ty is rooted in abundant hope and trust. None of us are going anywhere.
Atty steps back and shoves his hands into his pockets, scanning us. “So… if you’re all…together… what am I supposed to call them, exactly?”
Bythemhe means Mercer and Noah.
Before I can reply, Tytus barks out a laugh. “Well, seeing as how you and Sawyer are twins, and she calls one of them Da—”
Gasping, I whip around.
Mercer, thankfully, has the good sense to step forward and clamp a hand around Ty’s mouth.
The two of them scuffle, only breaking apart when Ty aims low and slugs Mercer in the gut.
Hands balled into fists, I stride over to the pair. Gripping Ty’s chin, I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “So you’re a comedian now, huh?”
He grins, clamping his tongue between his teeth as mirth dances behind his eyes.
“Wait,” Atty says. “Now I want to know. What were you about to say?”
He’s interrupted by a loud clatter coming from the kitchen. And then an even louder Arjun appears. “Presenting the triple-stacker double-crusted whipped-cream filled—”
Groaning, I turn to my guys. “We really shouldn’t have let them loose in the kitchen.”
Chapter fifty-two
Sawyer
By the time our guests left the orchard, the snow had stopped. By then, we’d already received notification from the school declaring that campus is officially closed for the week.
Since we have no reason to rush back to school, Tytus and I agreed to stay another couple of nights. He has an evaluation with the head athletic trainer on Thursday where they’ll assess his recovery and talk next steps. His hope is that he can get back out on the ice when the rink reopens next week. After discovering that his teammates had been concerned about his whereabouts, he made sure to check in with his coach as well.
This storm has been a massive disruption in a lot of ways, but I, for one, am grateful for it.
Life won’t always be perfect. We’ll have our ups and downs, and the four of us still have so much to navigate. We’re bound to stumble and backslide. Progress isn’t a one-way street, and we all have significant work to do on ourselves if we want to keep growing as a unit.
It’s the commitment to try that means more to me than anything. It won’t be perfect. It’s bound to be messy. But as long as the four of us are unwaveringly and profoundly committed to making this work, I have faith we can do it.
I finish my reheated cup of coffee, rise up from the kitchen table, and rinse the mug in the sink. Shiloh trots after me, nudging my hand until I put the mug in the dishwasher, squat down, and give her the head scratches she craves.
The house is quiet now that all our friends have cleared out.
Tytus mentioned needing to catch up on schoolwork, and Mercer immediately offered his room as a workspace and insisted Ty use his laptop. It’ll keep him from having to traverse up and down the stairs more than necessary. It’s satisfying, watching the two of them get along. The novelty will wear off eventually, but for now, I’m reveling in the gentle domestic bliss we’ve stumbled upon.
Merce has a virtual session with his therapist this afternoon and plans to take the appointment upstairs.
I’m not sure where Noah’s hiding, but there are still chores to be done around the property, even during a snowstorm.
I trail down the long hallway, walking past Mercer’s door quietly to avoid disturbing Ty and slowing in front of the gallery wall of Meg’s photos.
Carefully, I trace the delicate wing pattern of one of the bees. The macro shot is so detailed that each line and junction in the translucent wings is visible. There’s an understated grandeurto all of Meg’s art. These images alone tell me that no detail was ever too small or insignificant for her lens. That level of appreciation feels sacred. What’s easy to overlook is often the most striking representation of life.
Despite never knowing her, I feel a kinship to this woman. She loved Noah so deeply. Mercer, too, by the sounds of it. I never want to let her memories fade.
I trace the body of the honeybee, making a mental note to find out exactly when Meg died. I want to be prepared to support my guys as best as I can during that time. I also need to talk to Tytus about Noah’s loss. It’s better if he’s aware. While Noah has been steadfast this weekend, holding this group together in significant, essential ways, he’s human, and he’s hurting. We have to hold space for him when he hits an inevitable low.
A throat clearing at the end of the hall breaks me out of my reverie.
