Page 55 of Beyond Redemption

“With those wild boys, you would too,” I said.

“How does Shep end up with sons who act more like us than him?” Taylor joked.

“I don’t know, but I know he deserves it,” Travis said.

We all dissolved into laughter, the kind that took on a life of its own, building until no one could rein it back in. When it didn’t stop, I had to bow my head and wipe at my eyes until my vision cleared. The last time we’d sat together like this, all of us at one table, trading insults and stories and half-finished thoughts, felt like it belonged to another lifetime. Back then, we hadn’t paused to appreciate good days or evaluate whether forgiveness was possible; it had simply existed. We hadn’t yet learned how easily a family could be scattered or how hard it was to glue the pieces back together.

Now, listening to my brothers laugh beside me and hearing it echo off metal and canvas instead of wood-paneled kitchen walls, I realized how much I’d missed this simple, reckless sound. It was proof that despite everything we’d lost and everything we still carried, we were still willing, even when we had every reason not to be.

Once the laughter died down and we found our composure, Tyler gestured to the fence where Bodhi stood. He leaned back,his chair creaking. “Yeah. He reminds me of Shep for sure. You thinking honorary Maddox status, Tommy?”

“Already issued,” I replied.

“Hold on a damn minute,” Trenton said, setting down his mug. “That decision has to be unanimous, and like I said, the jury’s still out.”

“Damn, Trenton, you’d think you raised her,” Travis teased.

“Up until the past few years,” Trenton said, shooting me an accusatory look.

“Look at her,” Travis said, immediately trying to correct his mistake. “Look how happy she is, Trent. That has to count for something. Look at the way she looks at that boy, and the way he looks at her. They love each other. Would’ve never happened in Eakins, Illinois.”

Trenton leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers as he watched the kids play. After a few moments, the severity in his expression softened and he took a deep breath. I could almost see him reasoning with himself, as if to admit hating me was less important than appreciating Olive was still alive and right in front of him. “Fine. But I reserve the right to break his dominate hand if he makes her cry.”

“Like we haven’t made our girls shed a tear or two,” Tyler said.

Travis scoffed. “They’ve made us cry more.”

We laughed, the sound easing some invisible tension, though Trenton didn’t join in this time.

We all noticed.

“How did they meet, anyway?” Travis asked.

“Uh,” I said, relaxing back against my chair as I tried to recall the details. “At a basketball game. Olive became quick friends with Bodhi’s little sister, Sunny. They met in class in Marymount. Sunny asked her to go to Bodhi’s basketball game with her, and according to Olive, Sunny pointed out her brother,Bodhi happened to look up in that moment, they made eye contact, and that was it. He even missed a pass because of her. Was staring at her and let it fly right past him.” I chuckled. “They talked for a while after the game, then traded contact info. I don’t know, some app the kids are using nowadays. I don’t know why they don’t just text each other. Anyway, he asked her out the next day, and that, uh… that was it. They’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Tyler said. “I like that he’s been intentional from the start.”

We all nodded.

The conversation died down, and after a long silence, Taylor caught Trenton’s gaze. “You good?” he asked.

Trenton exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Just processing.”

Taylor reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “You wanna talk about it, or you gonna do that thing where you pretend you’re fine until you explode over something stupid?”

Trenton huffed, moderately offended. “I don’t explode.”

Travis raised a brow. “I beg your finest pardon, dickbag. It’s like your default fuckin’ setting.”

Trenton rolled his eyes before looking back toward the playground. “When she said she wasn’t coming home with us last night, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d failed her. Again. She doesn’t trust me to protect her.”

No one responded. We knew he was just getting started.

“When she was little,” he continued, “Dad’s house was homebase for her, ya know? Where she could relax, where she felt safe. Dinners, homework, Chicken Joe’s. Fuck, I was the one who taught her to ride a bike because Shane was working so hard. I was the one she came to when she was scared. When she needed a good comeback for a bully at school. And I didn’t even plan on being that guy, it just happened.”

“Then Oliver came,” Trenton said softly, glancing toward Camille contently patting their son’s back as he slept on her shoulder, “and I realized it’s the same feeling. Different roles, same instinct, same fear, same permanent attachment. That’s my little girl,” he said, nodding toward her. “The last time I saw her she was still kind of little, ya know? And now… she’s this adult, who’s had experiences and moments I’ve missed, and it kills me to think about it. It kills me to see she doesn’t need me anymore.”

“She needs you,” I said. “You’re the first name in her prayers every night.”