Chapter 4: The Price of Bringing Him Home

Tommy’s mom was sobbing, grabbing at my shirt. I stepped back. "Tommy and I are enemies now. I can’t help call him home."

Her grip was desperate, fingers digging into my sleeve. I pulled away, heart pounding. The past pressed in, thick and suffocating. I shook my head, trying to keep my voice steady.

She tried to beg again, but then two guys came running up the stairs.

Their footsteps thudded on the steps, loud enough to rattle the front window. I braced myself—trouble always comes in pairs around here.

"Aunt Linda!"

"Oh, ma’am—"

It was Tommy’s cousin Kevin and his brother-in-law Dwayne. I knew them both. Kevin was from our town, Dwayne from the next one over. We’d all been kids together once.

Kevin still wore his old letterman jacket, faded and two sizes too small. Dwayne had a toothpick dangling from his lips, boots caked with mud. They looked older, rougher, but the swagger was the same.

Kevin didn’t dare look at me, but Dwayne was all mouth, no filter. "Hey, isn’t this Eddie? What’s a guy like you doing living in a dump like this now?" Same old Dwayne.

He smirked, eyes darting around my cramped living room. The insult stung, but I’d heard worse. Dwayne always liked to stir the pot, especially when he had an audience.

"Heard your company tanked? Still stuck on your back like a flipped turtle, can’t get up?"

He snorted, nudging Kevin, who just stared at his shoes. Dwayne’s words rolled off me—mostly. It’s easy to talk big when you’ve never had to build anything yourself.

"Dwayne!" Tommy’s mom scolded him, while Kevin helped her up and held Dwayne back.

She shot him a look, her patience wearing thin. Kevin put a gentle hand on her arm, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. Dwayne just shrugged, grinning wider.

Dwayne just grinned at her. "Why bother begging him? He ain’t the only one who can drive a truck." He always thought he had the answers.

He puffed out his chest, trying to look tough. The room felt smaller, the air heavy with old grudges and fresh insults.

"What do you even know?!" Tommy’s mom snapped, nearly shaking with anger.

Her voice cracked, hands trembling. She looked ready to slap Dwayne, but Kevin stepped between them, tension thick as molasses.

"We’ve already hired six crews. I’ve found a bunch of experts to try. If the banner with his name on it can’t bring him back, your brother-in-law’s gonna haunt the house forever!"

She waved her hands in frustration, the photo rattling in its frame. The words sounded strange—spirit-calling banners and restless ghosts—but in this town, folks still believed. Fear makes people desperate.

I frowned. From what Tommy’s mom said, I wasn’t the only one seeing Tommy since he died.

I glanced at the window, half-expecting to see his face in the glass. The hair on my arms stood up. Maybe I wasn’t crazy after all. Maybe Tommy really was out there, waiting for someone to bring him home.

Dwayne didn’t care. He’d been running with the wrong crowd since he was a teen, never kept a real job, but he knew everybody. He always knew everyone’s business.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. Dwayne was the type who knew every back road and every secret in three counties, but couldn’t keep a job for more than a month. Still, he had a way of making himself useful—when it suited him.

"Don’t worry, ma’am, I heard what my sister said. I’ll find someone to call him home this time—it’ll work." He flashed a crooked grin, winking at Kevin.

Then Dwayne shot me a look. "Eddie, quit whining about how my brother-in-law did you dirty."

His tone dripped with mock sympathy. He wanted a fight, or at least a show. I wasn’t in the mood to give him either.

"If you can’t cut it after all these years, just deal with it. Some folks are born for the ditch, so stop acting like a big shot."

He spat the words out, daring me to swing. My jaw clenched, but I kept my cool. No sense giving him what he wanted.

He was just itching for a fight, so I didn’t bother arguing. I grabbed the baseball bat behind the door. Took a step forward. Dwayne and Kevin both backed up quick.

The bat felt solid in my hands, a comfort from another life—Little League games and backyard brawls. They knew I wasn’t bluffing. The look in Dwayne’s eyes shifted, just for a second.

But Tommy’s mom stood in front of me again. "Eddie, I’ve already swallowed my pride and begged you so many times."

She put herself between me and the door, her voice trembling. I saw the hurt in her eyes, the hope flickering and fading. She was out of options, and she knew it.

"This is the last time I’ll ask: will you help bring Tommy home or not?"

Her words echoed in the hallway, heavy as lead. I stared at her, the silence stretching. The weight of the past pressed down, memories and regrets swirling in the dim morning light.

I almost laughed. My family had suffered three deaths in a row, Tommy had taken everything from me, and now they had the nerve to stand here, acting all righteous and asking for my help?

A bitter chuckle slipped out, sharp as broken glass. The absurdity of it all hit me—how grief twists people, how old debts never really get paid. I shook my head, feeling the last thread of patience snap.

"If you ever want his ashes scattered, I’ll gladly help. But you want me to bring him home? Keep dreaming."

My voice was flat, final. The words hung in the air, and I saw the hope drain from her face. Sometimes, you have to draw a line, even if it hurts.

Tommy’s mom nearly choked on my words. Kevin held her up. Dwayne dragged them out.

She stumbled, gasping, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kevin wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the stairs. Dwayne muttered curses under his breath, shooting me a glare as they left.

"Who says he’s the only one who can do it? Thinks he’s hot stuff…"

Dwayne’s voice drifted up from the porch, loud enough for the whole block to hear. The neighbors’ curtains twitched, folks hungry for gossip.

"Eddie, after all those years as brothers, you got no heart—"

Tommy’s mom was dragged out the door, sobbing. My mother-in-law heard the ruckus, grabbed a bucket of cold water, opened the window, and dumped it out. Chaos broke out downstairs again.

The splash echoed down the street, followed by a string of curses. My mother-in-law slammed the window shut, muttering about bad blood and worse luck. I slumped against the door, exhausted.