Page 159 of The Story of You

Thank fuck. I didn’t want him feeling bad. He should get everything.

“Let’s take these pictures—select pictures,” I amend when I catch one of Aleksander. I’m only here to rescue Mama.

Darius and gang are loud when they enter. I lie on the bed, propping myself up with pillows so I can sit up, wanting to see what she saw when she watched us move around her. Lakshan joins me, cuddling close—for a guy who doesn’t like vanilla anything, he sure likes cuddling. At least now. He didn’t much at first.

“Yeah, I’m not going to be able to fit these,” Oliver says.

“Keep your gnarly ballerina feet away from Mama’s shoes,” Darius says. “As if you don’t have a closet full.”

“But these are Mama’s. I want a keepsake.”

As Oliver digs, he finds scarves he uses to decorate Julius. Darius is sorting through the books again, and it’s clear he’s on a book scavenger hunt, rooting out another treasure. “Aha! Found you.”

It’s the book on eagles. From the library. “You said you lost it,” I say.

“And the lost book fee was worth every cent of Dad’s money you paid for this.” He kisses the book. “This is our legacy right here, Oli.”

“An old book about eagles? I bet there’s more information on the internet.”

“Ugh, kids today. No appreciation for the classics.” He steals Mama’s hat from Oliver and places it on his own head.

I think that’s going to start a Randall war, but Oliver leans back. “The green on the band matches your eyes, Darry. It’s pretty on you. I get to borrow it for Hawaii though.”

“Hawaii? Silas. Stop giving him shit just because he mentions it.”

“No.”

Someone turns on music—Mama’s mixtape of eighties classics, it opens withEverybody Wants to Rule the World, Tears for Fears. Oliver finds a blue dress of Mama’s he slips on and has Julius spin and dance with him, knocking into Darius who tells them to stop before he cuts both their nuts off, which they ignore. Darius flips through the eagle book, claiming he’s sure he read somewhere that eaglets are supposed to do what their older eagle brothers tell them to. Simon is seated along the white wood of the bay window with Shane wrapped around him from behind, browsing the photo albums they found. Wyatt and Asher share a glance—another one—like others I’ve been noticing between the two of them.

No one would ever claim Asher is shy, but that’s what he is with the major’s attention on him. Asher’s eyes dart about, flighty with the swirl of emotions around him. Wyatt can tell. “C’mere, strawberry darlin’,” he says, pulling him to the floor.

They sit against the half-wall under the bay window’s sill and Wyatt hands Asher’s hat to Darius who seems to see he’s being handed the straw thing without looking up from his book. He lays it near him and drops a leg to hang over Wyatt’s shoulder, so he has a tactile connection to the burly marine. Wyatt runs hands through Asher’s hair, whispering something in his ear and Asher closes his eyes, allowing his breathing to even out.

“What do you see, Raja?” Lakshan says.

I survey everyone. “Victory.”

“And what did your mother see?”

“Love.”

Epilogue

Epilogue

One Week Later

Silas

With my sleeves rolled up and sweat soaking my blond hair that’s getting a tad too long, I stuff the last of the boxes from the house into the van. Oliver dances off the porch, squealing; an entirely too sexy Italian dancer hot on his heels.

His wide-toothed smile is brilliant and shines on my son as he prances through the air and snatches the waistband of Oliver’s skirt, flipping him around so their foreheads and noses touch.

“You’ll pay for that, amore.”

“Promise?”

Fuck. Clearly, neither has noticed me. When they do, they’ll feel guilty. I don’t want that. I want them to frolic in the playground of their love. I wanted this for Oliver. Yet the edges of a fucking panic attack threaten to pull me under.