Page 19 of Ruthless Possession
I nod, my throat too tight to answer.
"Let's call them," Greyson says, pulling out his phone. "The whole family should know."
Greyson's on his phone spreading the word, and with each call the energy in the room ratchets higher. Techy finds a heavier track, the bass vibrating through the floorboards.
I find myself pulled into conversations, asked about the day care, about my life while the boys were gone. These men who look like they could kill with their bare hands are gentle with me, respectful. They've always treated me like family.
"To coming home," Greyson says, raising his glass. "And to staying there."
The toast echoes around the room. Trenton's gaze finds mine across the crowd. He raises his glass, a private acknowledgment that makes my heart swell.
The party continues well into the afternoon. The news spreads, and the clubhouse fills with more members, more friends. Matthew's parents arrive, followed quickly by Trenton's mother, who immediately bursts into tears at the sight of her son.
Through it all, I watch as Trenton and Matthew come back to life. The careful control they maintained during deployments slowly melts away, replaced by the easy confidence they've always had with their brothers.
"We should head out soon," Matthew murmurs against my ear as dusk begins to fall. "Let them have their celebration. We've got time."
I nod, already feeling the pull of our home, our real home, and the quiet intimacy waiting for us there.
Trenton approaches, his hand finding my back. "Ready?"
"With you? Always."
We say our goodbyes amid promises to return soon, to catch up properly. Torch pulls me aside as Trenton and Matthew talk with Greyson.
"I knew you'd be good for him," he says quietly. "For both of them. But I didn't know how good."
I squeeze his hand. "They're home now. For good."
As we drive away from the clubhouse, the sunset paints the sky in shades of orange and purple. I lean my head against the seat, listening to the low murmur of their voices and the rumble of the engine. For the first time in six years, there's nowhere else I need to be.
"Think your parents are ready for a surprise?" Matthew asks as Trenton turns onto their street, his fingers lacing with mine.
My stomach flutters. "They have no idea you're back," I say. "This is going to be interesting." I shake my head, my stomach fluttering with anticipation. "I wanted to surprise them too."
The house comes into view, the same two-story colonial I grew up in, with my mother's hydrangeas blooming along the front walk. Dad's pickup sits in the driveway.
"Ready?" I ask, squeezing their hands.
"Let's do this," Trenton says.
We walk up the path together, our footsteps in sync. I can see movement through the front window. My mother is at the kitchen sink. Before I can reach for the doorbell, the front door swings open.
My father stands there, broad-shouldered and still, the kind of man who takes up a doorway without trying. He freezes when he sees us, his weathered face registering shock, then disbelief.
"Dad?" I say, suddenly unsure.
He doesn't answer. He just stares at Trenton and Matthew, his gaze darting between their faces as if he can't believe they're real. His jaw works silently, and for a moment the raw emotion on his face looks almost like anger.
Then his composure cracks.
"God damn it," he whispers, his voice breaking. He steps forward and pulls Matthew into a rough hug, then Trenton, then me, crushing us all together in his strong arms. "You boys."
"Sir," Matthew says, sounding slightly winded from the embrace.
"Don't you 'sir' me," Dad says. His eyes are suspiciously bright. "Where the hell have you been? Why didn't you call?"
"Isaac?" My mother appears in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She takes in the scene, of my dad still gripping our shoulders, the three of us standing on the porch, and she goes very still, the dish towel bunched in both hands. "Oh my God."
