He shook his head as if struggling for words, and instead of reciting every way I’d failed our family, he crossed the decomposed granite of the drive and threw his arms around me.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

His words sliced deeper than any insult could have. An insult I could handle—I’d been prepared for that.

But the way he pulled back, clasped my slack arms, and smiled at me—all tight lipped and furrowed brow, fighting back emotions I no longer felt capable of—wasn’t anything I could have built a defense against.

He laughed, the sound thick with six years of absence. “You’re huge. What do they feed you Delta boys? And what is this?” He motioned to my light beard as he stepped back.

“Green Beret, not Delta,” I corrected him with the decade-old joke and a forced smile as my stomach sickened.

“Yeah, yeah. Guys like me who never saw action can’t ever tell the difference.” His eyes skittered over my features, as if he were trying to memorize them before I disappeared…again. “God, Cam. I’m just…”

Nausea churned as the pit in my stomach deepened to a gaping chasm of regret and guilt.

He smiled, boasting even white teeth and a happiness I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced. “I’m just really glad you’re home.”

“You said that.” I was going to vomit. How could he be so nice to me?

“Well, it’s true.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “What do you say we go find Dad?”

“You don’t seem too worried.”

“I am, but for every time he’s forgotten my name, he’s never gotten lost on the land. We just need to spot him before the temps drop.”

I nodded, and he turned toward the house. It was in the high twenties right now, but we’d hit single digits within an hour of the sun retiring.

“Nice Jeep, by the way. It suits you,” he called back over his shoulder.

My eyes slammed shut as I sucked in breath after breath through my nose, willing the bile to slide back down my throat. It was like my body couldn’t physically handle the emotions.

Of course he forgave me. Of course he welcomed me with open arms. Of course there was no malice in his eyes, just open, raw love. He didn’t need to blast me with all my flaws. He’d always lived as an example, showing me every single way I’d never measure up by simply being him.

Just as I got myself under control, he turned back.

“You okay?” His voice dropped in concern.

“Yeah,” I lied. Because it was one of the things I excelled at.

“Altitude?”

“Something like that.”

“Just make sure you’re drinking enough water,” he reminded me, arching an eyebrow until I nodded my consent, and then headed up the steps to the front porch.