Chapter Text
Holland March hated this place.
He hated the door that wouldn't close properly, he hated the chipping white paint with black scuff marks. He hated the broken screens on the windows; he hated the dead flowerbeds and bushes in front of the house. He hated that despite housing three children, the house looked like it held no children at all. No colorful bikes in the yard, no toy trucks or balls. But most of all, he hated that he could hear Henry screaming at his nephews through the beat-up door, he hated that his sister was still married to this douchebag.
March stood in front of the beat-up door, on the rickety porch, waiting for Hope to open the door. Sure, it was an impromptu visit to Florida, more impromptu to drop in on his sister and his nephews, but he just had this horrible feeling gnawing at the back of his head, one that would not leave him despite the countless bottles of booze. Healy stood next to him, fists tight and jaw clenched painfully. He stood at attention, like a guard dog looking for wolves.
Or one big bad wolf.
The screaming stopped after a minute and finally the door was pulled open, the rusty hinges screeching loudly. Hope stood in the doorway, tired eyes opening wide with shock at the sight of her brother and his business partner, "Holland?"
"Hope… I'm, shit, I'm sorry I didn't call beforehand but-" Holland was cut off by her thin arms wrapping around him tightly, Hope burrowing her face into his neck. He felt his eyes water, slowly coming to hold her in his arms. He could feel the slight tremble in her frame with some emotion he couldn't pinpoint.
"Holland… I'm so glad you're here," she pulled away from him, smiling widely. Hope giggled, "And yes, you should have called beforehand! The house is a disaster!"
"Oh, please," Holland waved a hand, "Holly's done much worse, I can assure you that."
"You meant to say YOU have done worse, March," Jackson butts in, making Hope cackle.
"Oh, shush you. Anyways, where are my nephews?" Holland peered behind Hope, trying to make out anything he could from where he stood. Man, he needed glasses.
She froze a little at the mention of the boys, rolling the suggestion over in her head before responding, "Their father is… Speaking to them. I'll go get them."
"Hope," Holland caught her wrist as she turned to go, "Are you going to be okay? I mean… We can walk in with you… To get the boys."
"He won't hit me. Never has," Her face was stoney, "But… I won't say no to the protection."
Holland nodded and shot a glance at Jackson, who slid his brass knuckles on. Overkill? Perhaps, but it was better to go with it than be caught without it. He stepped into the house first, guarding Hope and Holland as they made their way through the entrance and into the living room. The T.V was left on, playing reruns of Wheel of Fortune. A sweating beer bottle sat next to a pack of Marlboros and a lighter on the coffee table in front of a beat-up recliner.
It made Holland's stomach churn sickly.
They bypassed the recliner and went up the creaky wooden stairs, Healy still leading the charge. Yellowing pictures hung on the stained walls. A picture of Hope and Henry on their wedding day, a picture of Hope and Holland at her college graduation, a baby picture of Courtland. It seems that the twins didn't get that privilege. It hurt Holland more than he expected it to.
They pass door after door. Behind the closed master bedroom door laid a sleeping Henry, evident by the loud snores rumbling through the air. Thank God, Holland thought to himself. The snuck passed the bedroom and came to stand in front of another shut door, where the sound of soft crying was heard. Holland bit his cheek, eyeing the way Jackson tensed up at the sound.
Hope pushed her way to the front, knocking lightly on the wooden door, "Boys? It's mama… Will you come out?"
There's a shuffling behind the door and the sound of a lock being undone, before it pulled open, revealing Courtland standing as tall and wide as he can get. There's a nasty looking bruise blooming on the side of his face, mixed with a few scattered cuts over his nose and cheek. Holland fights the urge to gasp, fights the urge to react. He sees Jackson having the same issue he's having. His eyes have turned all stormy.
Behind Courtland in the twin sized bed, lay Colt and Ryland. Colt was holding Ryland so close to him, it looked as if he were trying to merge with him. Ryland was the one crying, tears streaming down his cheeks from behind his cracked glasses. There was one bandaged cut on his temple, another on the bridge of his nose where his glasses sat. Colt faired a little bit better, only minor scratches on his knees and cheek.
If Holland's stomach was in his heart earlier, now it was in his throat.
"Uncle Holland!" Ryland pulled away from Colt, ducking past Courtland to hug Holland's leg.
Holland smiled softly at him, lifting him up and onto his hip, "Well hiya, bug! Hiya Colt!"
Colt glanced between Jackson and Holland, ultimately deciding to climb out of bed and stand next to Courtland in the doorway, "Hi Uncle Holland."
Courtland nudged Colt lightly with his shoulder, shooting him a small frown before Colt relented, coming up to hug Holland's side. Holland ruffled Colt's hair, snickering at Colt's indignant squawk. That got a smile out of Court. Good, he was still capable of smiling, "Hi Uncle Holland… Hi Uncle Jackson."
Jackson smiled at the boy, "Hey kiddo."
"What are you doing here?" Ryland asked loudly, excitement taking over the sadness he was feeling. Colt and Court shushed him, making him shrink into himself slightly, "Oh. Sorry."
"It's okay, Ry-refly." Court hushed him, "We just don't want to wake up dad."
A loud snore came from the master bedroom, making the boys shiver.
"Here, why don't we head outside. It's a perfect day for sitting out on the porch." Holland suggested, "I'll tell you all about my top secret plan."
"Top secret?" Colt leans into Holland, eyes sparkling. He knew that would get him.
"Oh yes! But I can only tell you boys outside! The plans only work outside!" Jackson rolls his eyes playfully at Holland's piss poor acting, but it seems to work on Colt, who books it for the front door, much to Hope's dismay. She follows after him, followed by Jackson, leaving Court and Ryland alone with Holland.
"Uncle Holland?" Ryland askes softly, staring his uncle in the face, "Does mama know the top secret plan?"
"She doesn't, bug." He winks at him, crouching to let Ryland down onto his feet, "Which is why i think we should head outside. It's a very cool top secret plan."
Court takes Ryland's hand and the three of them make their way down the stairs and out the front door.Hope and Jackson sit on the stoop of the porch, talking quietly while Colt pokes around at the dead grass in the yard, investigating an ant hill. Holland steps down the steps, sitting a step under Hope and Jackson while Court and Ryland are waved over to the ant hill by Colt.
"Of course they would get distracted by an ant hill," Holland grumbles, making Hope giggle. "It was a cool plan too."
"Oh yeah? What super cool, top-secret plan was my brother planning to reveal to them?" Hope goaded.
"A trip to California."