I turn and grab a handful of nails and line up the new board. “I didn’t say that.”
“It was implied,” she says. “There’s no need for you to fix everything around here.”
“I promised your mom,” I respond.
“And I’m sure she’d appreciate it, but I’m also sure there are other things you could be doing with your time. You don’t owe me any favors and I can take care of myself.”
“And the boys.”
“And the boys,” she adds.
I hammer the nails into place while I chew on my response. “No matter what’s between us, I’m gonna handle my promises.”
She switches her purse from one shoulder to the other. “I know. I’m just trying to give you an out here, you know?”
“I’m a grown man. I don’t need an out.”
“Fine,” she says and walks away.
I have the briefest desire to grab her by the arm, to demand an explanation, but I shake it off, focusing on the board in my hands.
For the next three hours, I rip out rotten boards from the porch and replace them with new ones. By the time the sun starts to set over the trees, I’ve nearly finished the entire south side of the wraparound, and I’m covered in sweat and sawdust. I stripped my shirt off a while back and I have the twinge from sunburn for my efforts.
She’d opened the front windows to let in the fresh air. I don’t blame her. It’s a beautiful day. There’s a gentle breeze stirring the scents of pine and freshly cut grass. But I’m more interested in the things inside the house than the pleasant weather.
The boys bring the dog inside, a stampede of sneakers squeaking against the floor and cheerful barks. They stomp through the house to the living room and settle beneath one of the open windows.
“What should we name her?” I hear Donnie ask.
I uncap a bottle of lukewarm water and chug, taking a seat on one of the new steps to rest, but mostly just to listen to them. To torture myself with all the things that could have been mine, but aren’t.
“Terminator?” Rafe suggests.
I muffle my choked laughter in my forearm. God, that kid. If Sofie were a boy, she’d have turned out exactly like him. Stubborn, quick-to-anger, and loyal to the bone. I guess that’s the rub, then. She was supposed to be one of the people I could count on. The one person I’d have bet would be there for me through everything.
As if she knows I’m there, thinking about her and, damn it, missing her, she says, “You’re such a dork.”
My stomach clenches. How many times had she said exactly those words to me over the years?
“How about Rosie?” Donnie says quietly.
I hang my head recognizing the naked longing in his voice. Their mother’s middle name was Rose.
A tense silence descends, broken by the cheerful yaps from the puppy. Then the floorboards creak as someone crosses the room.
Sofie says, just as softly, “That’s a good name, Donnie. I like that.”
“Yeah?”
Rafe clears his throat, barks out a laugh. “Still think Terminator would be better, but Rosie will work. Huh, girl? You like that?”
“Dinner’s almost ready. I’m going to go check on Jack while you guys wash up.”
“You should invite him to dinner!” Donnie chimes in.
“Aren’t you just full of suggestions,” Sofie says.
“I’ll go ask him.”
I lurch to my feet and grab the hammer to make myself look busy. Rafe rounds the corner, Sofie following close behind.
“Hey, Jack. Sofie’s making dinner. You should stay. It’s only fair since he fixed the porch and all,” he throws over his shoulder at Sofie, who tugs her thin jacket around her shoulders against the nonexistent chill.
I hitch my hip against the railing. “Not sure that’s such a good idea, bud.”
Rafe frowns. “We’ve got plenty of food. You used to come over all the time. Did we do something wrong? We aren’t sick anymore.”
Ah, man. I rub at the ache in my chest and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just think it’s important you spend time with your sister is all.”
He stares up at me, his brown eyes wide. “We can spend time with both of you. Besides, it’s mom’s famous spaghetti. You love her spaghetti.”
I peer up at Sofie. “Did she make it?”
“Hey,” Sofie says. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We helped. Made sure she didn’t burn anything,” Donnie offers.
I glance at Sofie. She catches my eye, but only for a second. She’s pale beneath the color of her olive skin, and she must have wiped away all of her makeup because I can see dark circles beneath her eyes. Concern wars with the lingering anger and ten years of loving her wins out. Looking down at Donnie, I ruffle his hair. “Sure, kid. Let’s go make the table.”
Sofie stops me with a hand on my arm. “Jack—”
“Don’t,” I say sharply. “Dinner and then I’ll be gone.”
Her fingers fall limply to her side. “Fine,” she says, but the words lack her usual fight.