“I don’t need any help,” I repeat, turning to face my brother. He looks tired in a way I haven’t seen on him before. There’s a weariness in his eyes that wasn’t there four months ago when I returned, and I feel the pinch of guilt that I may be the cause of the change.
“Matt,” he sighs, walking to the open kitchen. I watch him grab a bottle of water, but he doesn’t open it. Instead, he leans against the kitchen Island and pins those brown eyes on me. “Why are you set on pretending that everything is fine? You are in pain. I can see that.”
“I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.” This time, he uncaps the bottle and takes a sip, which seems to calm him down some. “You were always too damn stubborn for your own good.” He sets the bottle down carefully. “Jenny and I have been worried sick about you. You’re angry and mean, and we both know it’s because of the pain. The boys keep asking when their uncle is coming over. They miss you.”
Goddamn it.
“I miss them too,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. The truth is I’ve been avoiding them—avoiding everyone. The last time I saw the boys, I could barely hold it together long enough to ruffle their hair before retreating. They didn’t do anything wrong. I just couldn’t trust myself to be steady around them, not with the headache pounding behind my eyes and the noise in my mind that doesn’t ever quiet down.
“I know that,” Michael says, voice softening. “We all know that, but we also want the old Matt back. The one who isn’t carrying all this on his own.”
My jaw clenches at his words, and I stop myself before I can say how impossible it is to go back to how things were before. How the hell can I be the same after watching my brothers get blown to bits, knowing it was my fucking call that put them on that road? It was my job to ensure their safety. I’d walked that stretch with Bear before sunup—cleared it, marked it, called it safe. Whatever the bastards planted was slipped in between my pass and the convoy. Their lives were my responsibility, and I failed them.
No, there is no going back and saving them. For this reason, I deserve the pain. To be miserable. I deserve the fucking nightmares that plague me every night and the headache that follows the next morning.
I don’t deserve help. Yet, when I close my eyes, I see my nephews’ faces. Those brown Galloway eyes watching me from across a room with quiet uncertainty, waiting for a sign that their uncle is coming back to them. The boys who used to laugh and shriek as I tossed them in the air now hesitate at the edge of a hug, watching for cues I don’t know how to give them.
Goddamn it!
“I’m fine…getting better.”
As though sensing a crack, Michael slithers in. “One month.”
My head whips back in his direction. “What?”
“I want you to give Ms. Cork a month to help you improve, and if you want her gone once the month is over, then I promise I’ll fire her.”
“Michael.”
“Do this for me. For your nephews.”
A month is a hell of a time to have someone around, especially one as gorgeous as the girl waiting on my porch. Even with my back to the door, I can picture her—the soft dark hair, those green eyes that didn’t quite meet mine when she introduced herself. And the dog. I can still see her at Ashley’s left heel, sitting at perfect attention, copper coat in the morning light. She’d clocked me before her owner did. I’d clocked her right back, then shut it down. I think of my nephews. For once, I allow myself to think of the future, forcing the past under lock and key, even if it’s for a moment. “One week.”
“This is not a negotiation, Matt.”
“One week. Take it or leave it.”
“Two weeks, and no, don’t argue with me,” he adds before I can speak. “Let her work for two weeks, and if you’re still against the idea, then I promise I’ll stop trying to interfere.”
His words give me pause. The thought of getting Michael to finally quit his constant nagging appeals to me. At the cost of my peace and freedom for two weeks. “Fine.”
“Don’t make it hard for her, Matt.”
“I said I’ll do it, didn’t I?”
He goes silent for a moment. “Outside of Jenny and the kids, you are the only family I have left, Matt. I’ve spent two decades worrying and wondering whether you’d ever come back, and now that you have, I don’t want to lose you, so try and get better. For your family.”
Fuck.
If I wasn’t already feeling guilty, this would have done the job and sent me over. “I’ll let her torture me if it makes you feel any better.”
“It does.” He laughs, such an odd sound, I realize. I haven’t heard my brother laugh in years, it seems like. “I’m going to get her now. Play nice, Matthew.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, showing teeth.
He shakes his head as he walks to the front door. He opens the door and steps outside for a moment, then I hear his voice, low and apologetic on the porch, the click of nails on hardwood, and they step into the house.
