As he stood at her gravesite, he realized he missed her. He wished he’d been there with her at the end. He wished he’d gotten the chance to tell her what she could never tell him.
He placed the bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked at the base of the gravestone, then stepped back and smiled at the angel who sat so arrogantly on top.
“Guess what, Mama? I love you.” He swallowed back the tears clogging his throat and glanced at the plain headstone next to his mama’s. “And you, too, Daddy. I complained about y’all being piss poor parents, but now I realize that parenting isn’t an easy job. I’ve certainly screwed up big time. First, by leaving Dawson, Poppy, and Huck when they needed me. And then, by not trusting Dawson. As it turns out, I wasn’t any better at parenting than y’all.”
“Yes, you were.”
He turned to see Poppy standing there. She looked like she did on most days. She wore some country concert T-shirt, uneven cut-off shorts, and scuffed cowboy boots. Her light brown hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head, her Hennessy golden eyes peeking out from her long bangs. Those eyes were filled with as many tears as his. When one rolled down her cheek, she dashed it away angrily as if mad it had dared to fall.
“You were a much better parent than mama and daddy. Yeah, okay, you made a few mistakes. Leaving your cute baby sister was one of them and not trusting Dawson another. But, for the most part, you loved us and fought for us and took the blame for us better than any parent could have. Which is why we pretty much worship the ground you walk on . . . and why I’ve been so angry.” She sent him a teary scowl. “I missed you, dammit!”
He held open his arms and she didn’t hesitate to step into them. She buried her face against his chest just like she had when she’d been a kid. He held her close and kissed her head next to her messy bun.
“I missed you too, Pops.”
She sniffed. “I know. Who wouldn’t miss me? I’m a little ray of sunshine.”
He laughed and rocked her from side to side. “You certainly have always been mine.”
She snorted and shoved him away. “Liar.” Just like she had as a kid, she grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and used it to wipe her nose. “Dawson is pretty hurt, you know? So hurt he’s packing to leave.”
“That might be for the best.”
“The best? What do you mean?”
“Tully was there when Dawson brought up the gas station robbery.” Just saying Tully’s name made him feel like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his heart. While he was mad at himself for hurting Dawson, he was equally mad at himself for hurting Tully. There was little doubt he had hurt her. Those brown eyes had held an ocean of hurt. But he had only spoken the truth. She would always put her daddy before a Hennessy.
Any Hennessy.
Poppy eyes widened. “You think she’s going to arrest Dawson?”
“She can’t. It happened too long ago. But I do think she’ll tell her daddy. And we all know how the townsfolk will treat Dawson if they find out. It will be best if he leaves town . . . if we all leave.”
Poppy’s eyes narrowed. “Wow. You really don’t trust people, do you? You don’t trust Dawson. You don’t trust Tully. You don’t trust the people of this town. I get it. When we were growing up, you didn’t have anyone to count on but yourself. You certainly couldn’t count on our parents or your three wild-ass siblings. But we’re not kids any more, Jax. You can trust Dawson. And you can trust me and Huck.” She paused. “And I think you can trust Tully, too.”
He was surprised. “You call her Tully the Tattler.”
She shrugged. “She’s grown on me.” She reached down and jerked a handful of flowers from the bouquet Jaxon had placed on their mama’s grave and placed them against their daddy’s headstone. “But you’re probably right. There’s no reason for us to stay in this one-horse town now that we can’t meet the deadline. Although you still need to get things straight with Dawson.”
He knew she was right. Especially when he got home and saw Dawson’s duffel sitting on the porch. When he went inside, Dawson was nowhere around.
Jaxon figured he knew where to find him.
As soon as he stepped off the rope ladder to the treeboat’s main deck, Dawson spoke.
“You aren’t going to change my mind about leaving, Jax.”
He glanced up and saw Dawson sitting in a metal lawn chair on the level of the tree house Dawson had christened the Ship’s Library.
While all the Hennessys liked to read, Dawson treasured books. For some strange reason, their daddy had known this about his son even before he was born and had built floor-to-ceiling shelves in his room. Or maybe the shelves were the reason Dawson loved books. He’d needed to fill them with something and books were the most likely things.
“Can I come up?”
Dawson shrugged. “It’s your treeboat too.”
While the main deck had a rope ladder, the other decks had various ways to get to them. Huck’s Crow’s Nest was a perilous climb through the branches. Poppy’s Princess level had winding stairs that ran around the trunk. The Ship’s Library had a knotted rope.
The rope had been easy to climb as a barefoot kid, but not so easy as an adult in slick-soled cowboy boots. Jaxon’s feet slipped more than once as he climbed. If not for sheer arm strength, he wouldn’t have made it to the top.
