“Throw it away.”
“Historical artifact.”
“Crime scene evidence.”
I walked up behind him.
“Interesting choice of words.”
He turned.
“Don't.”
I smiled.
“What?”
“We are not doing this every year.”
Todd laughed.
“We absolutely are.”
Derek placed the tray down.
Grandchildren ran through the yard now.
My parents sat beneath the umbrella.
Rebecca sliced cake.
Marcus arrived late.
Derek saw the black SUV he still drove personally and shouted:
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
Marcus stepped out.
“No idea what you mean.”
Everyone laughed.
The joke had become safe only because the lesson stayed serious.
That distinction mattered.
Later, after sunset, Derek and I stood near the brick patio wall.
He held a soda.
I held coffee.
He looked at my left wrist.
Old habit.
“Still no scar.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Never.”
He smiled.
Then:
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“If that SUV hadn't shown up…”
I knew the question.
“What do you think would've happened?”
I looked across the yard.
Dad talking to Marcus.
Mom chasing a child away from dessert.
Todd filming fireworks.
Rebecca laughing.
Derek waiting.
“I think you would’ve taken the cuff off eventually.”
“That’s generous.”
“I think Dad might’ve hit you first.”
He laughed.
“Probably.”
“I think everybody would've chosen sides.”
“Yeah.”
“And I think you and I might not have spoken for years.”
His smile disappeared.
“Like Dad and Uncle Walter.”
“Maybe.”
He looked down.
“So Marcus saved us.”
“No.”
Derek frowned.
“Feels like it.”
I shook my head.
“He interrupted us.”
“Difference?”
“Big one.”
I looked at him.
“We still had to decide what happened after.”
Derek considered.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
From the patio, Todd shouted:
“Family photo!”
Derek groaned.
I smiled.
“We should go.”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
The old sentence.
We both stopped.
Then laughed.
“Come on, Sheriff.”
He walked beside me.
Nobody stood above anyone else.
Not there.
Not anymore.
The camera timer blinked.
Dad complained.
Mom rearranged everyone.
Marcus was told to stand in the back because he was tall.
Derek argued that sheriffs belonged in front.
Grandma Evelyn would have insulted all of us.
Todd ran into frame.
The camera flashed.
One family.
Messy.
Proud.
Wrong about one another in ways we were still discovering.
Better than we had been.
Not because truth had made us comfortable.
Because eventually, finally, we stopped running from it.