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A massive swamp puppy was all this guy was, as he slunk beneath the surface of the water again. I knew if I gave it a few minutes, he’d be back up, ready for another snack that was as sweet to him as it was to me. ButI wasn’t craving anything sweet. I was indulging in something to dull my senses.

The gentle breeze lifted my crudely made black cutoff, tickling my sides as if taunting me to actually admit out loud what thoughts had kept me silent for over a day and a half. The sliding glass door scraped as it was pushed open, but I didn’t turn. Bare feet slapped against the wooden planks that served as our porch. Slabs in need of a good refreshing stain, and I took a mental note to fix them.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” my mawmaw said.

And everything in me crumbled.

I was eight years old again, with wide eyes of wonder for the world. Everything that had broken Colette and me hadn’t happened yet. Every bridge I’d set fire to was immediately doused with a bucket of water.

“Mawmaw,” I cried out and pushed off the railing. Before I’d even had a chance to face her, her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against her.

I squeezed my eyes shut and collapsed into her hold. Even though it was her head resting against my chest instead of mine against hers, there was something about my mawmaw holding me. I was thirty-three fucking years old and felt like a child in his grandma’s arms.

“Want to talk about it?” she tenderly asked.

I squeezed tighter, not ready to release her. My mind and body begged for just one more minute before speaking the words I was suspicious of.

“Is Mom still mad at me?” I whispered instead of voicing what truly bothered me.

My mawmaw’s chest expanded, and she slowly pushed out of my embrace. “Oh, honey, I don’t think she’s ever been mad. She’s in shock. Could you imagine how it would feel to lose your child for years and then have him just waltz back in? Fifteen years of not knowing. Fifteen years waiting for someone to show up at her doorstep, more likely chaplains from the military than her son.”

I swallowed stiffly and faced the bayou with my head hung as it hit me. “Life’s got a cruel sense of humor,” I muttered. I could understand—sort of. I’d also missed out on fifteen years. Grief and regret were a heavy burden to carry, and I’d forced them upon my mother the way they were now thrust upon me.

By a choice I’d been forced to make as a kid myself. For the person I was at eighteen was certainly not a man. Not like I was trying to be today. I rocked the cigarette to the other side of my mouth as the sun sank low, painting the pink sky a deep, burnt orange. The greens of the swamp around me shifted to black, and the gator swimming below the porch became a ripple in still water.

“Worry for your mom is not what’s got you out here, now, is it?” Mawmaw continued as she turned and rested her forearms against the railing and clasped her fingers together.

No, that was certainly not it. I loved my mom, and of course I worried, and of course I owed her years of apologies, just as I did Colette. But no, my mom was not the reason I was out here. I dug into the marshmallow bag and pulled out another treat. Leaning forward, I stared at the water below and waited for the alligator’s nostrils to breach the surface.

“What life mystery are you attempting to solve this time?” my mawmaw asked as the swamp puppy pierced the water, and I dropped his reward in front of his jaws. “Something that turned this big dreamer boy rather quiet, it seems,” she gently added.

“I just…” I inhaled deeply as my mawmaw dug into the marshmallow bag herself. I was grateful she was the one out here. She would be the easiest to confess to, but that didn’t make the situation easy. “I just don’t know,” I muttered as she placed a marshmallow into her mouth and dropped a second one into the bayou below.

Mawmaw pushed away from the railing and faced me. Her eyes danced up my arm, over my shoulder, and down the portion of my torso exposed by my homemade cutoff. “Those are pretty,” she said, and pointed at the tattoos.

I furrowed my brows, glancing over at her, but remained quiet.

“Colette still hasn’t forgiven you?” she asked, and I closed my eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got fifteen years of groveling to make up for,” I replied with a tight smile.

“But why not just tell her the truth?” She placed a hand on my arm, and I turned to face her directly.

“I can handle her being mad at me, but this is her parents we’re talking about.”

“She’s upset at you for not giving her a chance to choose, right?”

I nodded.

“Then, Ford, honey, is this not doing the exact same thing?”

I rolled the cigarette between my teeth and took a long drag. “Yeah, well, it seems we’re both fucking good at taking the other’s choice away,”I grumbled and blew some smoke through my nose. The burning sensation in my nostrils had long since gone numb, but the action helped dull the anger that bubbled in my veins.

Anger. That was a new emotion. I hadn’t been angry about losing out on these years until now. Sad, yes. Tired, yes. Hurt, yes. But angry?

Anger felt good. Anger, I could control. Rage was something I’d fed for years.

“What are you talking about?” Mawmaw asked as she took a cautious step away from me.