Riley drops his head forward on a sigh. I watch Matty, watching his father, skepticism and curiosity warring on his face. Riley looks up, and they lock eyes, holding each other’s gazes when he says, “I literally couldn’t for many years because I was in prison and then on probation.”
Our son rears back, eyes widening at those words. He bites his lip, leaning forward with a look of resolve.
“Okay.” He finally nods. “Tell me everything.”
AtsomepointduringRiley’s story, Matt decides to join us in the truck bed, climbing in and slowly inching closer as we talk. We huddle under the blankets with our son as dusk falls,just as we’d done so many times before when it was only the two of us. At one point, Matt goes so far as to take my hand in his. I know it’s a gesture made in solidarity for the heartbreak his father put me through all those years ago, but it has my hopes soaring, nonetheless, with the belief that we might actually find our way through this.
Now, as Riley’s tale comes to its conclusion, I stare down at our joined hands—one of mine in Matty’s, and the other in Riley’s.
Silence falls on the ridge.
The breeze from earlier has stopped, and it seems even the crickets are holding their breath as we wait for a response from our son. He clears his throat, drawing my gaze. Pale eyes blink away tears, but I see in them acceptance now, and understanding.
“Do you have any questions?” Riley asks. “Or … anything you want to say to us?”
Matt’s head dips slowly in assent.
Riley and I exchange a look.
“Alright, let us have it.”
“Well, what I’m hearing is …” he trails off, his voice raw from his earlier yelling. He clears his throat again, and we both lean forward, bracing ourselves for whatever our son might have to say and ready to take it after this day of revelations.
“What I’m hearing,” he repeats, “is that Uncle Aidan is myactualuncle.”
I stare at our son, startled for a minute, his unexpected words rattling around my head in a way that makes them difficult to compute. Riley is silent beside me, and a quick glance at his furrowed brow tells me he, too, is taken aback by the comment and unsure of how to respond.
Then, ever so slowly, Matty’s lip tips up in the corner.
Riley lets out a huff of breath that’s part laughter, part annoyance, causing Matt’s mouth to curve up into an actual smile, small though it may be. It gives me permission to let out my own whoosh of breath that turns into a giggle as I shake my head in disbelief. It’s exactly something his father would do—hasdone—cracking a joke to inject some levity into a difficult moment.
“Fucking Aidan,” Riley mumbles, and Matt chuckles.
He chuckles.
Soon, we’re all laughing—wheezing for breath, and tears streaming down our faces, not because it wasthatfunny, but because we all need the emotional release.
When I’m finally able to catch my breath, I lean back into Riley’s waiting embrace. I dig through my purse for tissues and pass them around as Riley continues to grumble about his ‘golden boy’ brother and how he’s had about enough of the Aidan hero worship.
“Don’t think this means either of you is off the hook,” Matt warns, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. “Or thatwe’re gonna be some … like … insta-family or anything. It’s a lot to wrap my head around. It’s gonna take time.”
I nod my understanding, and with my head resting against Riley’s shoulder, I can feel him doing the same.
“And you better believe Alex is going to make your lives miserable when he hears about this,” he continues, and I know that to be true, too. “But …” he lets out a slow breath, “we’ll get there.”
And with his final words, I feel that last bit of weight I’d been carrying for so long, the insidious part that had lingered, despite Riley’s best efforts, just … lift off …
And float away.
Epilogue
Riley
It’sbeenalittleover three months since everything went down and Matt found out the truth. We’d spent the better part of the day talking things out up there on the ridge, and then, when we’d been fully exhausted, both physically and mentally, we’d returned home with grumbling stomachs to devour a pizza and do it all over again late into the night with Alex.
There’d been more tears and lots of yelling, but Steph and the boys had eventually come to a tentative truce. They’d still been reeling from the secrets she had kept, but by the time we all turned in the boys had at least accepted the position she was inand her reasoning for the decisions she’d made—and that had helped ease some of the strain.
Since then, Steph’s done what she always does when things get tough: put her head down and soldier on. She kept doing the supportive mom stuff while often being met with attitude and angst.
