"Austin?" she whispered, her eyes already closed.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
“You’re welcome. I love you, Iris.” I smiled as her headdrifted to the side. I didn’t need her to say the words back. I already knew.
I stood in the doorway for a long time after that, just watching the slow, even rise and fall of her chest. The harsh afternoon sun was softened by the blinds, striping the floor with familiar bars of light. But the room wasn’t the same. It wasn't just my solitary space anymore. It was fuller. Quieter, somehow, despite her presence.
The ghosts were silent. The old, familiar ache of guilt and fear was gone, replaced by the solid, grounding weight of this new reality. I’d help however I could.
Iris was here.
She was safe.
She was mine to care for.
I was no longer running from the past. I was actively building a future, one pillow, one bottle of water, one quiet moment at a time.
Chapter Thirty-One
AUSTIN
The bonfireon the beach in front of Mom’s house—now Harper and Chase’s—roared, spitting sparks into the darkening sky. It was a familiar scene, one I’d been a part of my entire life, but tonight was different. Sharper. Brighter. The scent of burning driftwood and salt was cleaner, the sound of my family’s overlapping laughter a warm, welcome hum instead of noise.
I leaned back in my beach chair, the sand cool beneath my bare feet, and took a long swallow of beer. Beside me, Iris shifted, adjusting the bulky walking boot on her propped-up leg. Without thinking, I reached over and draped my arm around her, pulling her closer to my side. She leaned her head against my shoulder with a contented sigh, her hair smelling of the orange-scented shampoo she used.
It had been a month since she’d fallen, a month since my personal true north had recalibrated itself to her in that hospital room. In that time, something had settled in me. Acalm I hadn’t known in thirteen years. Iris had recently graduated from crutches to the walking boot. After bringing her home from the hospital, we’d negotiated that she would spend the first three weeks at my place. I flat-out refused to let her negotiate stairs. Frustration at her immobility and the fact that wounds healed at their own pace had caused some of her tame curses to venture into more adult territory. I understood her need to prove herself. Once she could hobble on two relatively solid feet, I relented. She needed to be a part of Heron House.
My gaze drifted across the firelight. Harper and Chase were huddled together with tightly swaddled bundles in their arms. They looked exhausted, overwhelmed, and totally besotted with the two tiny humans sleeping within. Cameron and Claire. My new nephew and niece. They’d arrived via a C-section three weeks ago, both small but healthy, and had already turned the entire Coleridge clan into a puddle of cooing, sentimental fools.
Even me, a little.
Mom had returned home temporarily to meet her new grandchildren, and every line in her brow had gone slack when I introduced her to Iris. After a long conversation where I assured her I was overcoming my past at last, she fussed about missing the important parts of our lives. My siblings and I tried to convince her she had been there when it counted and that she’d earned some time to kick up her heels. She went back to Italy a few days ago, but I wasn’t sure she’d stay away now.
Big brother Finn was proudly demonstrating the proper technique for toasting a marshmallow to the two sleeping infants, his voice a serious, instructional whisper. On a log by the coolers, Eli and Jules were engaged in what looked like a heated, playful debate about the correct ratio of lime to tequila in a margarita.
This was the chaotic, noisy mess of my family. For the first time in ages, I didn’t feel like a stranger at the feast. I felt part of it. With Iris tucked securely against my side, the feeling of being a solitary stone in a rushing river was gone. I wasn’t just watching the current anymore. I was in it.
Braden sauntered over, a fresh beer in each hand, and handed one to me with a shit-eating grin that was all too familiar.
“Look at you.” He plopped down in the sand at my feet. “Arms around each other. Looking all content. It’s deeply unsettling, Austin. Pretty soon you’ll be asking for a wine spritzer and talking about your feelings.”
“Shut up, Braden,” I said mildly, taking a sip of the beer. A few months ago, the comment would have sent a spike of irritation through me. Tonight, it just felt like… Braden.
“Leave your brother alone,” Iris said, her voice full of laughter as she playfully swatted at Braden’s shoulder. “He’s allowed to be content. And for the record, he has excellent taste in wine.”
Braden’s eyebrows shot up. “He does? Since when?”
“Since I introduced him to it,” she said with a wink in my direction that made my stomach do a slow, lazy flip.
I smiled as she and Braden fell into an easy, teasing banter. She fit with my unruly family. She wasn’t intimidated by them, and they, in turn, had accepted her completely. Brenna, sitting on the other side of the fire with Hunter, caught my eye and gave me a warm, knowing smile that said,See? I told you so.
I placed a soft kiss on Iris’s temple. The gesture was simple, public, and more natural than anything I’d done in years.
“So, this is interesting,” Eli announced to the group atlarge, gesturing with his beer bottle. “My lovely wife sent me on an emergency run to Island Market today for a very specific type of key lime. Apparently, my margarita-making skills are under intense scrutiny.”
Jules swatted his arm. “Your skills are fine. However, your ingredient procurement needs work.”
