“You go to therapy?” Ford asks, looking surprised.
“Yeah, ever since Dealia left. I needed help processing the failure of the marriage. Which I’ve come to realize wasn’t the match I needed. It’s still raw, talking about her, because we never really got closure, but I think a lot of that is because she’s ashamed of how it all went down. She actually encouraged Nora to go out with me, which I think is her peace offering.”
“You two seem like a great couple,” Palmer says, picking up a tissue and wiping her eyes. “I think you balance each other out nicely. Nora’s always been a sweetheart and so understanding—hence the cake situation—but she also doesn’t take shit from anyone. I have a feeling she’d call you out when you need it.”
“She does.” I nod, my heart aching. “She does call me out.”
Palmer turns to Ford. “And Larkin, I think we’ve all thought you two would hook up at some point. It was just a matter of when.”
“Yeah, I think that’s always been the case with her, but I finally let myself have feelings for her. She kept telling me over and over how important family is, and I know it’s because only half her family is still with her.” Ford looks between us. “I’ve felt like I’ve had half my family too, but by choice.”
“Me too,” Palmer says.
“Same,” I answer.
“So how do we fix it?” Ford asks.
“Talking about it works,” I say. “Even though it’s painful. It works. And this is a great start, but I think we need to keep going.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
FORD
“I can’t believe you’ve been taking classes,” I say, shaking my head in amazement. “Was this because you went to therapy?”
Cooper nods. “Yes. Fear was controlling my life—subconsciously, I was holding on to Mom and Dad, not wanting to let them go. You were always trying to make them happy, Ford. I was always trying to hold on to them. When Dad was diagnosed, those fears of losing him skyrocketed. It hurt my marriage, and it basically put me into a hole where I did nothing but attempt to be there every second of every day for them. I might have complained about it to you two, but I needed it. I needed them to need me. After talking through some of those emotions, I realized I was hindering my life with fear. So, I decided to do something about it and took a design class, just to try something new that had always interested me. One class turned into multiple classes, which then turned into this talent I didn’t know I had.”
“None of us knew you had it,” Palmer says, taking a look at Cooper’s sketch of the mock-up logo he’d shown to Larkin. “You should see it on his iPad—it’s really freaking good.”
Yeah, it is. I’m ashamed I didn’t give him the time to actually show me, because he nailed it. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for. It represents the company, our family, and everything we believe in, but with a fresh take. And the branding ideas . . . hell, I’m a moron.
If only I’d listened. I would have saved myself a lot of time. And been a better brother.
“So, let me get this straight,” Cooper says with a smirk. “You were spying on us? Where?”
“In the bushes, naturally.” Cooper and I laugh. “But it cost me my third cast, because I fell into a puddle.”
“Serves you right.” Cooper nudges Palmer, eyes crinkling with humor.
“Worth it,” she replies.
“So, you like it?” Cooper asks me, his eyes full of hope.
“I fucking love it, and before you ask, no, I’m not just saying that. I would obviously like to see the mock-ups you showed Larkin, but hell, man, this is exactly what we need.” I glance up at my siblings, heart full. “It represents us. As a family.”
“It does,” Palmer says, grabbing our hands and holding them tight.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
PALMER
“You see how this is a stupid post?” I say. “What is the point of it? There’s no engagement, no thrill behind the picture. It’s just a pair of hiking boots against a backdrop. There’s no feeling behind it.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Ford says, looking at the computer. Mom and Dad thought they took all the electronics, but they forgot about my computer upstairs.
I go back to the Instagram feed for Watchful Wanderers. “When you look at your profile page, you don’t really feel the brand; you just see things trying to be sold to you, sometimes with horrendous lighting. Everything bounces around—there’s no commonality.”
“She’s right,” Cooper says. “Your Instagram is atrocious. Who does it?”
Ford scratches the side of his face. “Our social media team.”
“They need to be fired,” I say, not even feeling sorry about it. “Look at your engagement—it’s not even close to where it should be for the number of followers you have. Especially with the new stores coming out. You should be boosting excitement. Look at REI’s Instagram.” I type it in and show him. “It’s customers enjoying the products; it’s setting a mood. You come to REI, you have fun, you have adventure. Compared to them, you’re like a Sears Roebuck catalogue.”
“Ouch, that hurts,” Cooper says.
“Tell me how you really feel,” Ford says with a chuckle. “Hell, how did it get this bad? How did I become so disconnected?”
“It happens when you bury your head in the sand and don’t address the real issue,” Cooper says. He motions among the three of us. “We’re the real issue. Mom and Dad built the foundation, but we burned the house down.” He elbows me. “No offense intended.”
I hold up my hand. “None taken.”
“Build on us, build on the business. We all were at our best when we were together.”
Ford looks between us. “Want to have a bonfire and s’mores by the water like we used to?”
“I’ll grab the supplies; you two start the fire.”
Together, we get up, and the boys head out back while I search Mom and Dad’s pantry. Like always, there’s a special s’mores basket full of the supplies and skewers we need. I quickly check on the date of all the food items—because you never know—and everything is good. I toss a few sodas and napkins in the basket and head out back, where Ford and Cooper already have a small fire going. Cooper moves some chairs around the pit, and I hand him the basket. We all take seats, and like the good brother he is, Cooper sets me up with a marshmallow.
This is exactly what I’ve missed. Hanging with my heroes, my brothers. Being present with them, nothing between us, nothing distracting us.
I’m the first to place my marshmallow over the fire, carefully roasting it with my good hand. Ford is next, putting his a little closer to the flames, but not enough to roast it. Then Cooper sticks his skewer in the flames, sets his marshmallow on fire, and lets it burn.
“Oh my God, I forgot you were a deviant.”
Cooper blows out his marshmallow and smiles at me. “The best way to eat s’mores is with a burnt marshmallow.”
Ford and I glance at each other before I say, “We do not agree.”