They both chuckled, and with that, Rhys headed to join the group unloading a small cherry-picker from the back of someone’s trailer. Soon the air was filled with the sound of leaf blowers and the whine of a chainsaw. A few of the guys had brought their older kids and put them to work raking and bagging debris.
His heart full, Geo was heading for the ladder to climb up to the roof when Renae called his name. They hugged each other tightly. “God, you don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”
He pulled back to grin down at her. “What, a bunch of assholes invading your home? We used to do that a lot, didn’t we?”
“And I loved every minute of it.” She blinked a few times, her eyelashes spiky with unshed tears. “So did Cade. This all feels like—well, it feels like old times. In the best possible way.”
After a kiss to his cheek, she went to greet some new arrivals.
Gripping the sides of the ladder, Geo was about to continue his climb when some movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Over at the far end of the yard, near the fence, Cade’s oldest daughter, Ari, was kicking a faded soccer ball into a small net.
He hesitated, one foot still on the rung, wanting to approach her but not sure of his welcome. After all, it’d been so long since he’d seen her...
On the verge of chickening out, he saw Ari glance over her shoulder at him, then quickly look away when she noticed him watching her.
Okay. He had to go through with it now. His heart pounding, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started wandering her direction. What the fuck did he say to a ten-year-old who’d just lost her father?
His “Hey, kiddo” came out as nothing but a hoarse croak, so he cleared it and tried again.
“Hey.” Ari glanced over at him, her blue eyes—so much like Cade’s—holding a wary bitterness that punched Geo right in the gut. “Haven’t seen you in forever.” She snorted. “Uncle Geo.”
He was on the verge of playing it off as if he’d just been busy, when a long-forgotten memory popped into his head—his dad’s visitation, and the hushed, pitying voices whispering stupid euphemisms for death.
He’s dead, okay? He’s not “asleep” or “in a better place.” He’s just fucking dead!
What his eleven-year-old self wouldn’t have given for some simple goddamn honesty. If nothing else, he could offer that to Ari now.
Praying for wisdom, he said, “I know. I’ve been really sad because your dad died.”
Ari froze, then kicked the ball hard into the net.
“I’m sorry. I still should’ve come to see you.” He waited, agonized, but she didn’t reply, her kicks getting harder and more vicious.
Once again, Lani’s words popped into his head. “Asking about him, about the person he was, is always the right thing to say.”
Geo dropped to sit cross-legged on the ground, well out of her line of fire, and watched her for a minute before saying, “I remember once, when you made this awesome game-winning goal, your mom emailed your dad a video of it.”
Ari abruptly put her foot on the ball to stop it, her head cocked in his direction, although she didn’t look at him.
“He showed it to everyone on our base, you know?” he went on. “Whoever walked by got to see it.”
Silence, and then, “Did you see it?”
Chuckling, he said, “At least five times, no lie. Maybe more.”
Ari shrugged, her toe worrying the ball back and forth. “Did he—” She took a deep breath. “What did he say about it?”
What did he say about me?
Her unspoken question lodged in Geo’s throat like a shard of glass. “How proud he was of you. That he knew how hard you’d been practicing to get better. That he—” Despite his best efforts, his voice broke. “That he wished he could’ve been there to see it.”
Ari’s lips tightened, but for the first time, her eyes met his directly. The pain in them almost stopped his heart. “Then why—?”
“I don’t know,” he said with quiet honesty. “I wish I did.”
After a moment, she turned away and resumed her kicking. Instinctively, he stayed put, even as his stomach twisted itself into knots of inadequacy. At last she grunted, “No one wants to talk about him with me. Most people just say stupid shit.”
She flicked another glance at him, as if gauging his reaction to the profanity, but Geo nodded. “I know. I remember getting pissed off about that, too, when my dad died.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Tell you what. Whenever you want to talk about your dad, just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll make sure your mom has my number.”
For one heart-stopping moment, Ari started to smile back, but then it faded, her eyes going blank again. “Sure. Except you’ll be on deployment,” she said flatly. “You’ll be gone all the time, too.”
The truth of it was like a soccer ball to the face. “Not for a while,” he managed. “I’m gonna be home for a little while, you know? We could—would you like to talk now?”
“Nah.” With her foot, she expertly flipped the ball up into her arms and, without another word, walked away.
Geo struggled to his feet and trudged back toward the ladder, the knots in his stomach tightening.
He wouldn’t be here. What the fuck was he thinking? He couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t be what anyone needed.
“Geo?” Lani’s soft voice cut through the roaring in his ears, and before he knew it, she was in his arms. He clutched her tightly, her comforting warmth, the feel of her for some reason keeping him together, from splintering apart.
Pulling her into the shadows next to the house, he threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back to kiss her, softly, gently.
“Mmm.” Linking her arms around his neck, she relaxed against him. “This is nice.” With one last nip to his lower lip, she whispered, “You okay?”
He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, her subtle perfume. “No,” he croaked. He told her about his conversation with Ari as she stroked his nape and listened quietly.
“I’m not a trained therapist,” he fretted. “What was I thinking?”
“Hmm. That you were someone who loved her dad, too. Maybe what she needed in that moment wasn’t necessarily a therapist, but a friend.”
“Uncle Geo.” He let out a ragged sigh. “That’s what they called me, the girls. And all I’ve done is let them down.”
He appreciated when Lani didn’t rush in with a bunch of empty reassurances that he probably wouldn’t believe anyway. All she said was, “Well, you’re here now.”