Chapter Thirty-Five
KINSEY
My dad didn’t look like himself.
He was more pale than normal, and his lips were drawn back against his teeth like he was having trouble sucking in air and couldn’t quite get enough moisture in his mouth to lick them—or maybe he was just so exhausted he didn’t want to bother. What I was looking at was not my father.
It was a shell.
And in that moment.
I wanted for him to have that peace.
I wanted for him to be free.
I wanted for him to let go.
Because my father was gone.
Amazing how death sneaks up on a person, how it changes even the shell of the body, making the person unrecognizable, maybe it’s the fact that the soul’s finally releasing its tendrils around the human heart, maybe it’s the soul that gives up first and realizes that this was never the plan, to live with sickness—but to live free from it.
Dad smiled up at us. “Anyone bring any cookies?”
Harley handed over the plate and winked.
“You keep this one, son.” Dad grabbed a cookie and lifted it to his nose and winked at Harley. “Smells like heaven. You add—” He coughed a bit. “You add extra butter?”
Harley grinned down at him. “The trick is extra brown sugar and a bit of love.”
Jax’s eyes filled with tears as he gripped her hand.
“Mmm.” He lifted the cookie to his lips and took a small bite. “The sugar’s easy to taste, but the love? That stays with ya, doesn’t it, Harley?”
“Yeah.” Her lips trembled. “It really does.”
She touched her stomach.
I frowned briefly then looked up at Jax.
His hands followed hers.
Like he was protecting her.
Shielding her body?
Or maybe I was just being hypersensitive and overemotional.
I wasn’t sure if he was actively doing it or just doing it because that’s where her hands were at; my dad noticed too, his eyes doing that little calculating thing that meant he was thinking.
My mom got busy straightening his pillows. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Give me a few minutes with my kids.”
Miller and Harley started to leave.
He cleared his throat. “All my kids.”
Miller froze.
Harley let out a little gasp.
“Sit.” Dad didn’t have to ask twice.
All of us found spots around his bed, Jax sat on the corner, and I sat in Miller’s lap while Harley found the only other chair in the room and pulled it forward.
“Now.” Dad grinned. “That’s much better. So, Jax, it seems like you’ve been keeping yourself busy off the field.”
“Dad—”
“Good for you, son.” He peered over at Harley. “He treat you right?”
Jax cursed under his breath.
“At first yes, then no, and now yes.” She winked. “We’re happy. So happy . . . even though he snores like an elephant and doesn’t flush the toilet.”
“Right?” I chimed in.
Dad cackled while Miller stifled a laugh behind his hand.
“Thanks, Harley.” Jax rolled his eyes, then a smile formed behind his lips before he reached for her hand.
“You kids will need each other.” Dad nodded. “Kinsey, you and Miller are going strong still, I see.”
I grinned. “Yeah, well, I kind of love him.”
“I know.” Dad shrugged. “Even when you tried not to.”
I licked my lips and nodded.
“Miller?” Dad frowned. “You done being a pansy-ass?”
Jax laughed.
“Yes sir.” Miller smiled wide. “I can safely say my pansy-ass days are behind me . . . I just had another reminder before we came in here that it’s better to have the heart of a lion. I had that heart once—before my mom died—and I think I finally just got it back.” He squeezed my hand. “And I have Kinsey to thank for that . . . and a certain little boy who’s walking out of this joint in a few days.”
“Hah.” Dad placed half of his uneaten cookie back on the plate. I quickly grabbed the plate and set it on his tray for easy access.
“Jax, I’m not dead yet. Try not to get into any fights this week, I’ll be watching. And Miller, you need to block a bit harder, give my son a few more seconds to throw to ya.”
“Yes sir,” they both said in unison.
“Now . . .” Dad crooked his finger, and we all leaned in. “Listen carefully . . .”
I held my breath.
“My body is giving up. But my soul is a fighter, so when I leave this earth, I want you to remember that even though my body’s broken, gone, dust, my soul’s free.” Tears filled his eyes. “You’re going to take shots of whiskey after my funeral. And I want cookies. Anyone brings your mom a lasagna, you throw it out! No casseroles either! I want joy! I want to go out the way I came in, buck naked and screaming. I want balloons, celebration, and I want to be buried with my fork.” He winked.
“Your fork?” Miller just had to ask.
“You’ve never heard that story?” Dad grinned. “A husband and wife were both dying. He said if he was to die first, he wanted her to bury him with his fork, you wanna know why?”
“Because he liked pie?” Miller guessed.
“Nope!” Dad’s grin widened. “Life is the main course, son . . . and after life? Well, that’s the dessert, and I’m not showing up to heaven—my dessert—without my fork. Makes absolutely no sense. A man has to be prepared about these things.”
I rolled my eyes even though tears still filled them while Miller burst out laughing and nodded his head. “Alright then, a fork it is.”
Jax and he shared a look.
It was one of brotherhood. Of shared sadness.
Of shared grief.
In all my life, I’d never seen my brother touch another guy other than my dad. I wouldn’t call him cold. He was just reserved, controlled.
But when Miller held out his hand to Jax on the bed.
Jax took it.
He squeezed.
Jax didn’t let go.
And suddenly I was so thankful that Miller was in not just my life, but Jax’s.
“Alright, no more sadness,” Dad announced. “You kids scatter so I can get some sleep before Paula comes in here and fluffs another damn pillow.”
We all said our good-byes.
I kissed him on the forehead.
“You did good,” he whispered.
“Yeah, I did.”
We were almost out the door when Dad said, “Miller, a word, son.”
Jax slapped him on the back.
Reluctantly I released his hand, shut the door, and waited.