It was too amusing to keep a straight face. “I’m actually here,” Mark agreed.
George nodded decisively. “I’m glad.”
Which was one of the best things Mark had heard, ever.
His brother gestured to someone outside the barn. The man joining them was clearly one of the nephews. A very large, very solid specimen—broader than Trevor and possibly a few years older.
George reintroduced him. “Since you both look a little different than the last time you saw each other, let me. This is Blake, Mike’s oldest. He’s been helping me understand the paperwork his brother put together—” He waved a hand in the air as if erasing the topic he’d been diving into. “Never mind that. Blake, this is your Uncle Mark.”
The young man’s handshake was firm without being obnoxiously overwhelming, and the smile he offered was honest. “It’s good to meet you again. My dad talks about you a lot. He know you’re in town?”
Mark shook his head. “I meant to get in touch with people before I arrived, but then it just seemed as if it might be easier to simply show up.”
“Makes sense to me.” George gave his shoulder one final squeeze before dropping his hand and gesturing toward the barn. “Why don’t—” He paused and shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips as he turned toward the house instead. “I bet you’d appreciate a bite to eat.”
“And time to talk, yeah. That’d be good,” Mark agreed.
Blake gestured toward the parking area. “I’m expected at home, but I’ll see you both soon. Uncle Mark, we’d love to have you over. Whenever it works.”
“I’d like that,” Mark said honestly. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get in touch with your Dad. Maybe we can do something with the whole SP ranch.”
His nephew’s grin flashed. “Been a long time since I heard somebody use the real initials. We’ll talk soon.”
It was a small comment, but for some reason the innocently said words were a loud echo of what the little spitfire Laurel had said. That Mark had been gone a long time. That he needed to tread carefully.
He would, because it was true, and yet there were some things that he was not going to back down on. He was staying in Rocky, and whatever it took to find his way back into the Coleman family, he would make it happen.
And while he would be a lot more patient, he was going to find a way to put sunshine back in Dana’s eyes.
He didn’t bother to bring anything into the house. That could wait until he and George had a chance to talk.
They were barely in the door when George pointed to the kitchen table. “Beer?”
“I could drink.”
Minutes later, George settled at the table kitty-corner to him, playing with the open beer bottle in front of him without tasting the drink. “I’m sorry.”
Mark hesitated. “For what?”
George stopped fidgeting with the bottle and put his hands flat on the table before meeting Mark’s gaze. “You came back once, and I was a shit. I didn’t treat you right. I figure that was a lot of the reason why you stayed away for so many years. I’m sorry, because it was wrong.”
For a moment, Mark felt like examining his beer. “I don’t think either of us have had enough to drink for this kind of a conversation yet.”
His brother’s lips twitched. “It’s not a drunken confession. It’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a long time. I hope you got my letter, and I meant every word I wrote. You are welcome here. I want you to feel like this is your home, no matter what it takes to get us there.”
Well, shit. Drink abandoned on the table, Mark rose then caught his brother by the shoulders. It was his turn to squeeze the stuffing out of him. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long, but—hell, I had my reasons. But looking back, none of it seems as if it was the right choice.”
“You don’t need to justify yourself.” George wiped at his eyes and then coughed, straightening slightly as he pulled himself together then resettled at the table. “You’re here. There’s so much I need to tell you, but this is the biggest one. We all make mistakes. Sometimes we make damn big mistakes, and there’s no coming back from those. But mostly there’s a way to find something good in the here and now.”
George said it as if it was a hard-learned lesson.
“You made a mistake?” Mark asked quietly. “Not because I want to gloat over you being a ridiculous ass like I was, but because it sounds as if you’re on the other side of that blunder.”
“Don’t know if I’m quite at the top of the hill and on the downward slide, but I’m working on it,” George confessed. “I’ve got four girls I didn’t say I love you to often enough. Not with my words or my actions. I’m just damn grateful they’re still willing to let me try and make a change.”
One part of that Mark had heard from Trevor via the letters over the past year. “Four girls, not three. Damn, bro. That must’ve been a hell of a surprise, finding out you had another daughter.”
George finally took a sip of his beer then stared at the label. “A surprise, but also a blessing. And I’m working my ass off trying to be a worthwhile dad in her life instead of a hindrance.”
So many years. So many wasted opportunities, and yet it seemed Mark wasn’t the only one.
Mark clapped his hands on the table. “How about I start working on getting supper together? If you’re truly good with me camping out with you for a bit.”
His brother was on his feet. “Let me help grab stuff from your truck.”
The second lasagna that Mark had put together while over at Becky and Trevor’s was popped in the oven, then George found him a place in one of the empty rooms.
The house was familiar in the way that an old melody scratched and teased. Mark had helped build this house. He and John, and the rest of the brothers. The year before he left. The year before John died.
If the house wasn’t full of memories, his head was.
They hadn’t quite put the food on the table when George paused. “You talk to Mike yet?”
Mark shook his head.
“Why don’t you give him a call?” George suggested before offering a wry smile. “As my daughter Tamara pointedly reminds me, putting off something painful doesn’t make it less painful when you actually do it.”
“You think Randy wants to come out tonight? With the new grandbaby and all?” Mark offered a grin. “Because I’d like to do it all at once, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Which works well with your less-painful analogy.”
“Give them a shout.”
Which is how, before seven p.m., Mark found this unending day of activity finishing up with what would be the make-it-or-break-it moment.
Standing in George’s living room, he faced his three surviving older brothers.
It had been clear from the moment they walked into the room, though, that this wasn’t going to be about holding old grudges. Not on their side at least.
Mike gave him a hug and a back pounding. Randy nearly shook his hand off his arm before going in for his own rib-creaking squeeze.
George just grinned.
Mark stared at the floor for a moment to find his balance. “I didn’t expect this.” He lifted his gaze to meet each of theirs in turn. “I told George, but I’ll tell you all again. I’m sorry. And I missed you. And I’m sorry I missed so damn much over the years.”