Page 169 of Wherever You Are

I’m cut open on the ground.

Nothing without her.

Epilogue

PRESENT DAY – June | Baltimore, Maryland

GARRISON ABBEY

Age 39

Dirt tracks, bicycle tires, and a familiar announcement projected over a rowdy audience, “riders ready…watch the gates”—I smile, taking it all in.

Summer.

I’ve lived through thirty-nine summers, and before I met my wife, before those long drawn-out summer days in a comic book store, the few hot months out of school were hell.

I hated every summer.

My brothers were home more, and I’d do anything and everything to stay away.

Now, I hunger for the summer days, for the sticky heat and dirt under my soles. And I know with certainty—at thirty-nine—that I’ve loved more summers than I’ve hated.

Standing behind a wooden fence, I’m among the noisy crowd who cheer on racers. Sun beats on an outdoor BMX track, a little bit outside of Baltimore.

I run my palm back and forth over my head, hair buzzed short. I prefer nothing in my eyes. Not needing to hide anymore.

I haven’t for a long time.

My parents never tried to reconnect. Not even when I was in my early twenties and first left. They released me from their household like a crow who flew through the window and found its way out.

I never had to attempt to pull away twice or a third time. Once was all it took. And I’m grateful for that.

All three of my brothers ended up working for our father’s tech company. I never see them. Never speak to them, and like my parents, they’re gone from my world.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” people shout from the sidelines, pumping up the teen racers as they catch air over dirt hills and skid along the curves of berm turns. Pedaling towards the finish line.

I drop my left arm, while my right arm remains loosely draped over my wife’s shoulder. And I smile as my eyes graze Willow and her fingers that are laced with my hand.

My gaze keeps traveling across the event. Competitors in full-face helmets, visors, and long-sleeved jerseys line up with their BMX bikes and wait for theirmoto, what Lo still calls a “heat” even after the tall one corrected him a hundred times.

Loren Hale is stillthatguy.

The corner of my mouth rises, and I glance down the fence. Where Lo has his arms around Lily while they watch the race. Lo is smiling, and in a quiet beat, he catches my gaze and we exchange something pure and happy.

Something I think only guys like me and him can ever truly understand. How long it’s been and how far we’ve come. To peace around us and to peace with ourselves.

I nod.

He nods back.

Johnathan Hale died twelve years ago after his many years of alcohol abuse finally caught up to him. He started laying off me after my kid was born. And by the time he passed away, we were on better terms.

Close by Lily and Lo, Rose spritzes water on her neck and collar. Connor says something to his wife, inaudible over the crowds. She glares up at him. He grins down at her.

My office is still inside Cobalt Inc.—so that weird back and forth between Connor and Roseis too commonplace.

Willow always thought they’d have like eleven children. Enough to fill out a football team. They didn’t end up withthatmany. But all the Cobalts are at the BMX track today, and theirsevenkids make up a large portion of our group.