“You ready?” Lucy kisses me in the kitchen as I stare out the window of my apartment. Wyatt isn’t up yet, the door to my second bedroom still closed and all is quiet. I pull her in and hug her, nuzzling my chin against the top of her head. I nod.
This morning, I’m running a turkey trot with my brothers before our Thanksgiving dinner at Tim and Alice’s house. But that’s not what I’m anxious about. After we run, they’re taking me to Thatcher’s house to meet our father.
“Deep breaths, babe,” Lucy says, placing a hand on my chest. She breathes with me a few times and smiles. “I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”
I nod and she stretches up on tiptoe to kiss my forehead before walking back into the bedroom. Despite the off season, she’s been working long hours with Todd and the coaching staff making plans for the fall, sending out workouts to each of the players and getting situated in her new apartment two floors above mine.
She and Wyatt moved in a few weeks ago, but they both spend most of their nights at my house. I’m not complaining. It makes Lucy feel secure knowing she has her own space to retreat to. I thought it would be nice having an extra space for my mom to stay when she comes to town…but she’s been dating Lucy’s friend Patty and decided to stay with her for Thanksgiving. It was strange watching the Phe-Moms last night with my mom, both of us cheering for our girlfriends. But it’s also kind of nice having our own cheering section.
I take a deep breath and head out, stopping at Thatcher’s to grab him before driving to the 5k start line, where Tim and Ty are waiting for us. We’re quiet throughout the race, which shows me how much they’re all feeling the weight of this, too. And then I get nervous, wondering if I should call Lucy or my mom or just call the whole thing off altogether.
“Hey,” Thatcher says, looking over at me. “You got this. We’ll all be there.” Thatcher tells me how Ted has started going to more meetings since he found out about me so he didn’t relapse. He also started volunteering with the women’s shelter, helping out with some of the sobriety programs that helped my mom when she was pregnant with me. He’s trying to live a better life and I feel ready to meet him where he is.
I nod a few times and pull into his carport, raking my hands through my hair and taking a deep breath. I look out the window where Ty and Tim are pulling up to the house, waiting for me at the door before heading upstairs. Thatcher lives in an industrial loft and we have to take an elevator to get up there. His house has one of those sliding doors that take forever to open and I feel a lump in my throat waiting for the glimpse of my father.
Thatcher pokes his head inside to look and then beckons for us to come in. I stand in the doorway, frozen in place as my brothers walk in and stand in a sort of semicircle around a graying, slender man with tears running down his face. “Hawk,” he croaks, before covering his face with his hands and sobbing into his fingers.
I feel a surge of emotions and a lump in my throat, which I clear, and say, “Ted.”
He seems to gather himself together and takes a step toward me, looking me up and down. I see a lot of myself in his face, in his build. His eyes are ringed by dark circles and his hands shake as he reaches for me. I reach out my hand and shake his. “I’ve wanted to meet you my whole life,” I say.
He takes a deep, shaking breath and says, “I wish I knew about you sooner.” I nod and I hear my brothers cough to cover up a wave of emotions I know they’re all feeling.
“You look like me,” I say, which is stupid and unnecessary because I obviously look like all my brothers. But the comment draws a smile.
“All my boys look alike,” he says, gesturing around the room.
After a few minutes of silence, Ty claps our father on the back. “We all have similar appetites, too,” Ty says. “Grab your coat, Ted. It’s time for Thanksgiving.”
The five of us squeeze into Ty’s minivan after tossing a mountain of booster seats into the trunk area. I sit in the second row with our father, and the two of us stare at each other for most of the ride. Lucy insists things will get easier as time goes on, that we will think of the right things to say to one another. I know she’s right.
Ty looks at me in the rearview mirror. “You know,” he says, “the three of us OG Stag kids all have the same ink.” Thatcher turns to look at him. Thatcher is heavily tattooed, and I know Ty doesn’t mean they all have all the same tattoos.
“Oh yeah? What of?”
“It’s a Stag,” Tim says from the third row behind me. “Our wives have it, too.”
“It’s seriously so hot,” Ty says, grinning. “Even June-bug got it, which got me thinking. She doesn’t have our last name, but she’s in the family.”
“Obviously,” I say, unsure where he’s going with this.
Ted looks around the van at his sons. “I didn’t know you boys all got a tattoo,” he says. We approach a red light and Ty yanks down his t-shirt, revealing a leaping stag and laurel branches on his pec. Ted sucks in a breath. “Laurel,” he says.
Thatcher nods. Ty looks at me in the rearview again. “Our mother. Laurel,” he says, smiling. We pull onto Tim’s street and I see the commotion of his home. The yard is full of Stag boys and I spy Wyatt running amidst the fray. A trio of women stands in the driveway keeping watch as the ten boys sprint up and down the sidewalk. Lucy is one of them, laughing and chatting with Juniper and Emma.
“Anyway,” Ty says, “You should think about getting inked like us.” He grins.
I look again at Lucy, whose face seems genuinely relaxed as she chats with my sisters-in-law. In a few short months of knowing her, she’s transformed into someone with confidence and calm. She still has her moments of self-doubt, and I do, too.
But we remind each other that we both have networks now. We have people who care and our stories now include a whole herd of Stags who will stop at nothing to support us. She looks up and sees the van, her face brightening. She runs over to the sliding door and as soon as I open it, she’s in my arms.
“I missed you,” she says, kissing me. And then she draws back, biting her lip, her unspoken question written on her face. I swallow and reach for her hand, turning behind me to where my father is still trying to dislodge himself from the van.
“Ted,” I say as he looks up. “I want you to meet Lucy, the love of my life.” She melts against my side and smiles at my father, waving. Wyatt runs over and wedges himself in between me and Lucy, clinging to both our legs.
My father smiles, his eyes tearing up yet again. “You have a beautiful family, Hawk,” he says. He steps out of the van and stands in the driveway in the sunshine, surveying the hoard of people swarming around the house.
“Yeah.” I pull Lucy in tight and kiss the top of her head. “Yeah, I do.”
Thank you so much for reading the Stag brothers series!
Want more of this family?
Check out Forging Passion, a prequel novella for the Stag Generations series. Keep scrolling to read an excerpt.
Want to see if Hawk gets the Stag family tattoo?
Check out this bonus epilogue and find out!