Chapter 7: Shadows in the Sun

Esme had been in Texas for five months. She was still a newcomer in many ways, but the routines had started to settle: the runs at sunrise, the quiet coffees on Henry’s porch, the school pickups with Sarah, the late-night silences she and Joel both seemed to crave. She hadn’t planned on staying this long. But lately, the idea of leaving had begun to feel… heavy. Tommy arrived like a Texas dust storm—loud, smiling, and impossible to ignore. Joel stood in the driveway, arms crossed, as his younger brother swung out of the truck with all the energy of a man who never learned how to stand still. “Well, look who still can’t read a map,” Joel said, voice dry as desert air. Tommy grinned. “Takes one to know one.” He pulled Joel into a one-armed hug before heading up the porch stairs. Henry came out, hand raised. “Tommy! Damn good to see you.” “Henry, you silver fox,” Tommy said, giving him a bear hug. “Still haven’t aged a damn day.” Joel muttered behind them, “Charm’s still set to dangerously high.” “Too high,” Henry agreed, laughing. As they walked into the backyard, the scent of grilled meat mixed with sunscreen and the thick Texas heat hit Esme. The sound of laughter and splashing water filled the air. It was Frank’s birthday, but Henry had offered up his place—mostly for the pool. Esme had helped decorate: paper lanterns swayed overhead, and a playlist of old-school rock played just loud enough to compete with the sound of summer. Tommy was mid-hello to a group near the grill when Esme stepped into the backyard, carrying a bowl of chips. He turned. And froze. Joel saw it. That subtle shift in his brother’s face. The smile. The spark. “Well, hello,” Tommy said smoothly. Esme smiled politely. “Hi. You must be Tommy.” “And you must be Esme. Figured I’d be meeting the mystery woman eventually,” he replied. Joel rolled his eyes. Frank, stepping in just in time, handed Tommy a beer and added with a grin, “That’s Esme. Henry’s daughter. And former army nurse. She’s tougher than she looks.” Esme shot Frank a look, but smiled. “Thanks for the intro, Frank.” Tommy perked up. “No way. Where’d you serve?” The conversation flowed easily from there, with Esme and Tommy trading stories and jokes like they were old friends. As the party wore on, Esme dipped her feet into the cool water, laughing as Sarah cannonballed beside her. Sam joined moments later, more cautious but smiling wide. She handed them each popsicles, then leaned back, stretching her legs out across the tile, her sunglasses sliding down her nose. The sun was brutal, but she didn’t mind it today. The laughter, the splashes, the low hum of people talking—it all made her feel just removed enough from the heaviness that always lingered beneath the surface. Tommy was sitting beside her now. He was easy to talk to. Light, friendly, funny in that brotherly way. He reminded her of someone from base—a guy who could make a joke mid-crisis without ever being cruel. They traded stories, joked about the food in the mess tents, the absurdity of long patrols, the way sleep deprivation made everything hilarious. But even while she listened to Tommy talk about almost getting kicked off base for a dumb prank, a part of her was aware of Joel—somewhere behind her, she could feel Joel. Still. Quiet. Watching. The party had thinned out. The kids were curled up with blankets under the string lights, half-asleep to the hum of a backyard movie. The adults were scattered—some cleaning up, others talking in low voices on the porch. Joel stood off to the side, near the fence line, a beer dangling loosely from his hand. Tommy stepped up beside him, a little slower than usual. For once, he didn’t open with a joke. “Quiet out here,” he said. Joel nodded. “Not for long.” They stood like that for a beat. Then Tommy cleared his throat, glanced toward the porch where Esme stood laughing at something Frank had said. “She’s got that thing,” Tommy said softly. “The way she carries herself. It hits you before you even know what you’re looking at.” Joel said nothing. Just sipped his beer. Tommy gave a half-shrug. “I’ll be honest, I felt it. First five minutes talking to her. She’s sharp. Got that dry humor I like. And she actually listens.” Joel’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t interrupt. “But,” Tommy continued, “while I was sitting there with her, swapping stories and trying to keep it light… I looked up.” Joel didn’t move, but Tommy felt the shift. The tension. “I saw you,” Tommy said. “The way you were watching her. Like it already mattered.” Joel’s grip tightened slightly on the bottle. “Didn’t realize I was that obvious.” “You weren’t. Not to most.” Tommy paused. “But I know that look. Seen it once before, when you met Sarah’s mom.” That hit harder than Joel expected. He looked down, swallowed. “Didn’t mean for it to happen.” “You never do,” Tommy said. “But it did.” There was a beat of silence between them, then Joel finally turned to face his brother. “I ain’t got the margin for mistakes anymore, Tommy.” “I know,” Tommy said, eyes steady. “And I’d never get in the way of it. If you’re in, really in, you don’t gotta worry about me stepping where I shouldn’t.” Joel exhaled, slow and quiet. “I appreciate that.” Tommy smiled a little, not teasing for once. “Just… don’t wait too long to tell her. Real things don’t always wait around.” Joel looked back toward Esme, who was now bent over helping Sam with a blanket. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”