Sunshine.
I yank Maris into my arms and press my lips to hers for a kiss that declares more than just my feelings. It declares my relief. When I let her up, we find Rainey and Brad kissing each other through their hands like they’re five-year-olds on the playground.
Deadpan, I say, “That explains so much about your kids.”
Rainey reaches for a hamburger roll and tosses it at my head.
“Maris, do you have pictures?” Brad asks even as I duck and the bun flies over my head.
“Oh, do I ever. Let me go get them. Just be forewarned, their joint bachelor party was at a drag cabaret show in Jacksonville. And I got pictures of Jed up on stage.”
I choke on the drink of my beer I’d just taken. “In costume? Christ. He already looked like a deranged lunatic. These I have to see.”
Laughter rings out around the backyard as Maris races for the stairs. And for the rest of the night, Maris shares story after story about her brother and Dean.
And I forget about the news I need to share with her especially as there’s a wealth of joy dancing like stars in her eyes.
Nicholas
“Text when you land.” I hold out my hand to Oliver.
He shakes it. “Can I just say how odd this is?”
“What?”
“Me getting on a plane and leaving you here? But hey. It’s not like you’re going to be far behind, right?” His other hand comes up and clasps mine on the shoulder before he brings me close and bumps our shoulders together. “See you back in the land of warmth, boss.” Turning to Reece and a delicate woman I never would have pegged for his grandmother, Oliver gestures them to the security line. Soon, they disappear from my sight.
And I’m left standing there saying nothing because there’s nothing to say.
At least not to him.
Time’s running out.
“Why do you stay?” I trace a strand of hair from her nape down the smooth line of her back. The skin is ivory perfection, not marred or touched by the sun. It’s a canvas I paint my fingers over night after night. Taking the ends of her hair in hand, I dance it over her spine.
Maris giggles, the sound flooding my heart with joy. “That tickles.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I admonish, brushing her hair over her again.
She starts to scoot away, but I haul her back. Her body was carved by a higher power to fit perfectly against mine. Her flesh against mine reminds me of the power and fluidity of an ocean wave just before it crests. Its force is brutally unstoppable, something destined for eternity.
Like our love.
“Why stay, Maris?” I repeat my question. “What hold does Alaska have on you?”
She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t answer right away. I begin to wonder if she’s fallen asleep in my arms when she shocks me with her answer. “Memories.”
“Trust me, those are portable.” Bitterness laces my tone.
“It makes it more difficult when the memories you hold are beautiful, Nick.”
“After everything that’s happened to you here, you can still say that?” There’s skepticism in my voice.
“What you heard were the bare-bones stories. It would take a lifetime to fill in the details.” Her voice is dreamy.
Therefore my voice is frustrated when I demand, “Give me an example.”
“Like Dad closing the bar the week after I came home from the hospital—despite us needing the money. He carried me outside at least once a day and roasted marshmallows with me. Mom, well, she tried to teach me to cook—”
“You can,” I interrupt.
“No, honey. I really can’t. The only thing I mastered was her meatloaf. When Jed and I still lived here together, he did most of the cooking.” She pauses. “Their graves are here—not just Jed, but Mom, Dad, and the grandparents.”
My hand stills. “You could come back to visit them.”
“That’s true, but I don’t have to.”
But what about when we leave? I open my mouth to speak them, when her next ones freeze them in my throat.
“I want to raise my children in this home—to be able to tell them the stories of their uncles and grandparents. I want the Brewhouse to go on.”
“That could possibly not happen.” Maris shoots me a dirty look. “Leaving them the Brewhouse,” I tack on hastily. “What if they want to be a hairdresser, or a scientist, or…?” Or what if they want to run Razor? In an entirely different state?
She shrugs. “Then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. But the main one is the love in this home. Don’t you feel it, Nick? After all these years, can’t you feel the sweet memories from having been here?” She cants her head backward so her eyes meet mine.
And I give her the only response I can in that moment. “I do.”
But instead of being smug, her face falls. “It holds rough memories too. I deal with those.”
My ears perk up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean when you’ve lived somewhere your entire life, everything has ghosts.”
“Did you ever think about selling the house?”
She chuckles. “So many times, I’m surprised I didn’t have Realtors perched on my lawn like dogs in heat.”
Just the image of all Juneau’s real estate agents in a semicircle barking has me roaring. “Nice, Sunshine.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was bad. Really, really bad. That is, until Kara and Kevin came.”
A ball begins to form in my stomach. “Why then?”
“After I came home in between the funeral we held for Dean in Florida and the one we had here in Juneau, I was alone. So alone.”
“Why didn’t you reach out?” I ask angrily.
“I couldn’t.” Her voice is sad. “The way Jed’s will was written prohibited me from contacting any of you until you were all notified. This way you all were less likely to wonder why we weren’t having the ceremony sooner than we were. I had to hold the ceremony for his husband first before I could hold his ceremony for his brothers.”
I recall the letter I received from Jed’s attorney notifying me months after his actual death that he had passed and when the services would be held. “And you were alone that whole time?”
“I had Kara.” Maris swipes under her eyes. “And let me tell you, if our friendship can withstand the things I put her through during that time, it can withstand anything.” Before I can ask her what she means, Maris continues. “I essentially blamed her for their deaths, though she wasn’t there. I screamed that if it wasn’t for Dean, Jed would still be alive where he belonged—not in fucking Florida. And I said, at least she had a relative left.”
“God, Maris.” Even I’m wincing at the verbal beating Kara endured.
“All while dealing with her own tragedy and knowing her life was about to be flipped upside down. That’s my Kara. And she flew here and dealt with it again from all of you.”
I flinch, recalling what I said to Jennings about Kara. “No wonder he took a swing at me.”
“Who?”
“Jennings.”