Page 318 of What We Brave
Not a handshake. Not a back-pat. A real hug, solid and warm, the kind that used to make me uncomfortable and now just feels like family.
Seven years ago, this man looked me in the eye and promised to end me if I hurt his daughter. I mean yeah, he didn’t use those words, but his face was sending a damn clear message.
I respected the hell out of him for that. Still do.
"Good to see you, son."
Son.
First time he called me that was the day Caleb was born. I was holding this tiny, red-faced, screaming human, completely terrified, and David put his hand on my shoulder and said, "You're going to be a good father, son."
I cried. Blamed it on the exhaustion.
"Good to see you too, David."
He claps my back once, then lets go. His eyes are a little wet, but neither of us mentions it.
"Alright," I say, grabbing Mary's carry-on. "Let's get your bags. The kids are vibrating."
"Oh I can't wait!"
The drive home takes forty minutes. Mary spends most of it asking questions about the kids—what Caleb's learning in school, whether June's still obsessed with her rabbit, how many words Iris has now.
"She's got about fifty," I tell her. "Mostly 'no' and 'mine' and 'papa.'"
"Smart girl. Knows what's important."
David's quieter, looking out the window at the Oregon landscape. Green even in December, but the snow's in the air. I can feel it. So different from the places they've spent most of their lives.
"How are you two doing?" I ask. "Really."
Mary and David exchange a glance. The kind married couples develop after decades together—a whole conversation in a single look.
"We're tired," Mary admits. "It's getting harder. The travel, the heat, the logistics. We're not as young as we used to be."
"We're not old," David says.
"We're not young either."
I keep my eyes on the road. "Ever think about slowing down?"
Another glance between them.
"We've talked about it," David says slowly. "The mission could use younger blood. People with more energy. We've been training local leaders to take over more responsibility."
"What would you do? If you stepped back?" Am I leading them? Sure as fuck am. But I'll do whatever I need to do to make Laine's dream come true. And for my kids to have their grandparents around more.
"That's the question, isn't it." He sighs. "Forty-five years of this life. I don't know who I am without it."
"You're Grandpa," I say. "You're the guy who tells good stories. You're the guy Caleb wants to see every single day."
Silence.
"He said that?" Mary's voice is soft.
"This morning. Also said your pancakes are better than Reid's, so don't tell Reid I told you that."
She laughs, but it sounds thick. I glance in the rearview mirror. She's wiping her eyes.
