Holding my hand, he helps me climb down and opens the sauna door for me. Outside, he rushes to fetch water and grabs a standing fan with a mist attachment that he turns on and aims at me while I drop down onto a lounger and rehydrate.
His eyes burn with concern as he approaches me. "Better now?"
I realize what we did was wrong, that there's potentially going to be a lot of fallout from it. But that's my brain talking. My heart feels fine with what we did. My body is high-fiving like it's nobody's business.
"Yeah." I nod, smiling up at him. "Better."
9
Anson
"So, how are the sessions with my brother going? Is he working his magic on you?"
A burst of heat tightens in my chest, heavy with shame, but I do my best to contain my reaction. Because, yes, Jarvis is indeed working his magic on me, just not in the way Robbie means.
"He's been wonderful," I tell him. "And very confident for someone who I was told needed some encouragement."
Now it's Robbie ducking for cover, deflecting with, "I notice you're not drinking."
I invited him and Dunlop over for Sunday lunch as part of my attempt to make more of an effort with my kids. Bremmer and Kelsey are away in Singapore for a developer's convention. Otherwise, I would have invited them, too.
"That's right. I'm not. I've decided I need to make some changes in my life."
"Like what?" Dunlop asks, turning the steaks over on the grill.
"Well, less drinking for one. And two, more spending time with the people I love and cherish most in this world."
The tongs dangle forgotten in his hand as he looks up at me, a smile forming. "That's great, Dad. That's really great."
Despite him being the youngest and Adam the oldest, he idolized Adam and was closest to him. Adam adored him, too, and as a parent, nothing made me happier than witnessing the special bond they shared.
These past few weeks, it's hit me how much my grief, while valid, has changed me in ways I don't like. Drinking too much, isolating myself from the people who care about me, replaying memories on loop and hating myself for what I could have, should have, done differently. None of that is healthy, and none of that will do a damn thing to change what happened.
For so long, I've been drowning in a sea of grief because everything that everyone did to help was focused on getting back to a life I no longer wanted. I didn't care about my business anymore. I didn't want to reconnect with friends and hit the fairway. I needed—without realizing it at the time—something new, something to look forward to.
And there's nothing in the world I look forward to more than my weekly session with Jarvis. He's the breath of fresh air I never knew I needed.
"These are ready," Dunlop says, piling the meat onto a serving platter. "Hope you're both hungry."
My eyes meet Robbie who's watching me with quiet thoughtfulness. "Are you hungry, Anson?" he asks, and my guilt detector goes off.
Yeah, hungry for more of your brother's delicious ass.
I'm a sick man.
I muster a meager smile as I do my best to banish thoughts of Jarvis from my head. "Yeah, I am."
The doorbell rings.
"Oh, shit." Robbie slaps the side of his face a little too theatrically. "I forgot to mention I invited Jarvis to come along. Hope that's okay, Anson?"
I'm pretty sure all the color drains from my face, but I manage, "Sure, no, yeah. That's…fine."
Robbie goes to answer the door, so I help Dunlop carry the food over to the table.
"It really is good seeing you doing better," he says, oblivious to the panic eating me from the inside out. "That's all we want for you, Dad. To be happy again."
"Thanks, son."