Page 135 of One Last Rainy Day
I’m convinced now he felt his imminent death on those stairs all those years ago and no doubt started preparing in the year before he left us.
Whether he knew it or not, he knew enough and mapped our start.
Plucking a suit from my closet, I walk inside my bedroom as my cell rings. “Jennings.”
“Mr. Jennings, your car is here.”
“Thank you, I’ll be right down.”
Walking out of the hotel ten minutes later, I’m met by the sight of my temporary driver as his lips quirk up, eyes dancing with mirth.
Clint holds the door open, his driver’s uniform laughable as he greets me. “Good morning, Mr. Jennings.”
“Cut the bullshit,” I clip, my own lips lifting at the sight of him, looking whole and healthy compared to the night I drove him into an unknown future.
“Today’s the big day, huh?” Clint asks.
“Yeah, so let’s not keep him waiting.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, smirking as he closes the door and gets in the driver’s seat. Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the airport in wait.
“Heard the news,” Clint says while my eyes frantically search the terminal for any sign of him.
“Yeah?” I say as we share a smile in the rearview.
“It’s unbelievable, man, what you guys have accomplished,” he says with nothing but admiration in his voice.
“By someone else’s design,” I say, straightening mysleeve beneath my shirt jacket as Dom’s words strike me again.
“When we wait for someone to do something, no one ever fucking shows up.”
Just as his words reach me, Zach appears outside the terminal, civvies on, his hair only an inch thicker than when I picked him up from graduating basic. He cracks a smile a mile wide when I step out of the car, and I head in his direction. Neither of us breaks our stride as we embrace. My heart alight as we hold on a little tighter than the norm, and his whisper hits my ear. “Hey, Dad.”
Chest roaring with the sound of it, I clamp his broad shoulders and pull back slightly, eyes roaming over him. “You look good.”
“Feel good,” he says as Clint relieves him of his duffle, tossing it in the back of the SUV.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Been ready,” he reminds me. We’ve had a few arguments about when he would get inked, but we always agreed this day would come. What better place to commemorate the occasion than the place where it all began.
Three hours later, the three of us stand graveside as I scan the headstones lined up just past the iron gate—one belonging to my first and only love, and the other, my chosen brother. The two of them were so alike in so many ways that it was uncanny. Ways I never pointed out, but they were both aware of. Both of them were intuitive and fueled by their hearts, but those hearts were often stunted by their brilliant mind and need for independence. Impenetrable until they weren’t, and once you got in, youwere made to feel it. I experienced the love of both those hearts, and it was incredible.
We all stare for a few beats at the headstone that reads PRINCE DECHU. Three generations of birds paying homage to the man who irrevocably changed each of our lives for the better. Who gave us purpose and made us part of the most valuable thing that continues to survive his death—his legacy.
Allowing the ache to have its way with me, I watch as Clint steps forward. He pulls his latest annual sobriety chip from his pocket before bending down to Dom’s grave, his words drifting back to Zach and me.
“I wanted you to have this one.” He pushes the chip into the ground in front of the gravestone. “You saved my life, brother. In more ways than one. Thank you.”
He slowly stands and lingers briefly before turning to Zach and me, palming my shoulder as Zach steps forward. Plastic wrapped around his fresh ink, he kneels, no longer resembling the gangly boy we collectively took in and sheltered, and brushes some of the debris from the weathering headstone.
“I...” his voice wavers slightly, and I understand every shake inside it. It’s been a long, hard road for both of us. Zach became a permanent part of my life at the worst imaginable time. At the brink of war, and while Delphine was losing her battle with cancer. His father hadn’t bothered looking for him, and I had to pin the fucker down and get persuasive for him to sign for the adoption. Even as my own hand trembled a little while finalizing the papers, I knew it was the best decision I would ever make. He became my son legally at fifteen—now a man, a fourth-generation marine,and a raven. I’ve never been more in awe of how things work out.
“You were right,” Zach tells Dom. “I’m nothing like him,” he relays hoarsely. “Dad says I’m a lot like you, and all I can say to that...is I fucking hope so.” He runs a hand along the top of the stone. “You gave me a family, and for that, I can’t thank you enough, Dom. We’ll be back.”
Zach stands and looks over at me with a reverent glaze in his eyes. I return his stare, hoping he sees the pride shining in mine as the burn keeps me mute.
Zach reads my expression and gestures toward Clint. “Let’s give him a minute.”
