I paid, stepped out, and let the smell hit me—gasoline, sweat, motor oil, and home. The gravel shifted under my boots as I crossed the lot. The cane clicked against stone, steady as a heartbeat. Beyond the open garage door, the familiar chaos waited: a dismantled engine on a lift, toolboxes stacked like fortresses, a couple of couches shoved into a corner.
Every conversation in the garage stuttered out.
Rodney was elbow-deep in a carburetor. Clint leaned against a workbench, mid-story, grinning until he saw the figure in thedoorway. The wrench slipped from Rodney’s hand, clattering loud enough to echo.
“Holy shit,” someone whispered.
“Impossible,” another muttered.
I didn’t stop. The click of my cane and the uneven drag of my step were the only sounds as I crossed the concrete. I didn’t look left or right. I just kept moving, through the maze of dismantled engines, straight toward the small door that led to the kitchen.
One mission left. Get home.
The kitchen smelled like frying onions and fresh coffee. Laughter. Real, easy laughter. Dalton’s low rumble, Maria’s quick tongue, Hannah’s sharper one. They didn’t notice me at first so I leaned against the doorframe, letting the sight soak in—family alive, whole, moving on.
Maria swatted Dalton with a towel. Diego was telling some story that had Hannah actually smiling. And Jewel, God, she was taller now. She sat on the counter swinging her legs, clutching a juice pouch like it was contraband. My chest burned. I didn’t trust my voice, so I said nothing. Then Jewel froze mid-sip. Her eyes, so similar to her mother’s, met mine. Her mouth formed a perfect O. I smiled, but I think it came out as more of a grimace.
“Stranger danger!” she shrieked.
Everything stopped.
Dalton turned first, towel still in his hand. Maria’s spatula dropped into the skillet with a hiss. Hannah’s smile vanished.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Dalton whispered, “No way…” He took two stumbling steps before nearly running, and then he was across the kitchen, arms wrapping around me so hard my cane went skittering across the tile.
Pain shot up my leg, sharp enough to blur my vision, but I didn’t let go.
“You son of a bitch,” he rasped, voice cracking. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
I offered up a broken grin, “Yeah. Didn’t take.”
Maria made a broken sound—half laugh, half sob—and then she was there too, Jewel on her hip. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she reached out, her fingers trembling before she pressed her palm against my face.
“Mi Dios…Jackson. It’s really you.”
I swallowed hard. My throat burned. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Jewel peeked out from behind her mom’s shoulder, eyes wide, frowning like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not a stranger?”
The sound that came out of me almost didn’t feel real—a laugh choked through too much ache. “Not anymore, kiddo.”
Hannah hadn’t moved. She just stood there, hand pressed to her chest, eyes shining like she was afraid to blink. When she finally came forward, it was slow, deliberate—like one wrong move might wake her from a dream. She stopped in front of me and reached up, fingertips brushing the stubble on my jaw. “You came home,” she whispered.
I nodded once, my voice low. “Guess I did.”
For a few heartbeats, everything blurred together—voices, tears, the weight of too much love, too much loss. The walls started to close in. The clang of a pan from the stove made me flinch. My chest tightened.
“I’m fine,” I said when Mac’s hand found my shoulder.
He didn’t buy it. “You look like hell.”
I forced a grin. “Hell looks worse.”
Maria wiped her face, trying to steady her voice. “Somebody needs to tell Holly,” she said softly.
The name hit me like a live round. My chest locked up. I turned to her. “Where is she? How is she?”
