Page 68 of Five Brothers
Army dives down and sucks it off his son’s nose, making the kid giggle.
“We couldn’t keep Oreo ice cream in the house when I was little,” Iron muses. “It was my favorite, but it was also Dad’s.”
“Mom would buy it; Dad would eat it all before the next morning,” Army tells me. “Iron would be so disappointed.”
Trace stares off. “I don’t remember that.”
“We were too young,” Dallas reminds him.
His eyes remain on his mug as he eats and tries hard to look like it doesn’t bother him that he remembers so little.
“He didn’t do it forever,” Army points out to me. “Dad would go in phases. Eat the shit out of something he liked until he got tired of it. Iron soon got all of his favorite ice cream to himself again.”
“Only because Macon started hiding it from him,” Iron points out.
I look over at Macon. He eats, staring straight ahead as if we’re not all sitting here.
“When Mom got sicker,” Iron continues, “and Macon had to do the shopping, he would stuff it underneath the frozen pizzas in the deep freezer for me.”
The table quiets, only Macon still lifting the spoon to his mouth, and for the first time I feel like I actually belong at the Jaeger table. I’m not the only one silenced by the reminder that their older brother thinks of them. Always.
Iron steals glances at Macon like he’s waiting for any recognition or word from him.
But Macon inhales a deep breath and tosses his spoon down, rising to his feet. “It’s a full day,” he tells everyone. “Make time.”
He pours a cup of coffee and leaves the room, disappearing into the garage again.
No one says anything, but the mood has shifted, the smiles and joking from a minute ago quiet now.
The grandfather clock in the living room chimes, and reality steps back in as they all shove a few last spoonfuls into their mouths and get up. Trace sets his mug in the sink and then bends to retrieve a few garbage bags from the cabinet underneath. He starts cleaning up the trash from the party, while Dallas heads upstairs, the shower starting within seconds.
I watch all of them go about their business, not speaking, andit’s not because of Iron and what’s about to happen. The house and everyone’s moods are always at the mercy of their oldest brother.
And I don’t think it will get better with Iron out of the house.
An hour later, we’re all standing inside the jail.
“Feel free to pack away my shit,” Iron tells Dallas. “Maybe get yourself a bigger bed.”
His younger brother flexes his jaw to cover up the shake. “Everything stays at it is,” he says quietly.
Iron reaches out and hugs him, Dallas’s arms staying at his side for only a couple of seconds before he embraces him back.
Iron moves to his youngest brother, holding him tight. “Stay sharp,” he tells him, pulling back. “Be better than me, okay? It wasn’t worth it.”
Trace nods and looks away, blinking the water from his eyes.
Army takes his turn, Iron having said his goodbyes to Dex at home.
Macon isn’t here. He didn’t come out of the garage, and I know Iron waited, but eventually we had to leave.
“He hates me,” Iron says to Army, his chin trembling a little.
But Army shakes his head. “He loves you. That’s why he’s not here.”
I bite my tongue.Bullshit. “This could be it,” my ass.What if Iron fucking dies in there? What if he makes dangerous connections and comes out ruined? All he needs is his brother to tell him he’ll miss him.
And to tell him that he can come home again.