Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(105)

He shrugs. “The guy at the store said it was in style.”

“So were ‘grandma’s couch’ floral pants and you didn’t see me wearing those, did you?” I pass by him, heading to my room.

“Did you really have to throw it in the trash?”

“Yes. Don’t ever shop without Lina or me there again. Ever, or I’ll disown you.” I grab my backpack off the bed, desperate to get on the road.

“Mrs. Cooke sent a big flower arrangement on behalf of the firm.”

“That was nice of her.”

“It’s supposed to storm tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to take the car?”

“Yup. I’ll make it before the storm rolls in.”

He’s standing there, looking at me all awkward. “Okay, well, ride safe or whatever you call it. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Mason, why are you being so—”

My words cut off as Mason reaches out and gives me a tentative hug before almost jumping away and storming out of the room.

Shaking my head, I turn and leave, desperate to see Ben’s smile again.

Even if it’s only as friends.





Chapter 32




BEN





“Pick it up, darling. I’m going alone,” Mama orders, taking me out of the round.

I toss my cards down and fold my arms over my chest, smiling as I watch Elsie and Jake try to trump her, fond memories flooding me. Sunday night was always game night at home, out on the back porch. No excuses. In the earlier days, even my dad would come out sometimes. He’d usually be working on furniture designs and end up passed out in the chair, but I knew, by the way Mama stole glances his way and smiled, that she was just happy to have him there.

When we were young, and Mama’s parents were alive, it was Go Fish. There was a brief stint of Monopoly somewhere in there, but after Jake and I tag-teamed against Elsie to make her cry too many times, the game mysteriously disappeared. To this day, I don’t know where Mama hid it.

We all learned how to play euchre the summer of my eleventh birthday after my grandpa died of a heart attack. My grandma had moved into a home, preferring the peace and quiet over five kids in their teenage years. With us plus Mama, we always had more than enough players. That changed quickly, though, with each Morris kid leaving home as soon as they had an excuse, until it was just me and Mama sitting out on that porch on Sundays, resurrecting Go Fish.

I can’t believe it’s been eight years since we’ve all been in one place.

And tonight, while it’s Thursday and not Sunday, we’re all playing cards under Mama’s roof again. The happiness is radiating off her.

“Will you be fine in Ben’s room?” Mama asks Tara, Rob’s wife, as she and my brother come down from putting their two girls to sleep in the largest room of the house, with enough space for all four of them.

“Yeah, it’s perfect, Wilma. Thank you.” Tara’s a soft-spoken brown-haired woman with big eyes. She seems nice but she doesn’t talk much. Way too quiet for my taste. And too skinny, but Rob always did like them twiggy. I get the impression that I make her nervous. The two times I’ve walked into the kitchen with just her there, she’s left in a flash.

“You mean my room? Ben stole it after I moved out,” Rob retorts, slapping me across the back as he walks by.

“And it finally saw some action,” I murmur, shooting a wink Jake’s way. Of all of us, Rob was the shyest around the girls.

“It saw plenty of action, you jackass,” Rob scoffs.

“A hand job from Molly Mumford doesn’t count.”

“Boys!” Mama exclaims as Jake and I burst out in laughter. Even Elsie can’t keep the giggles under control. No doubt, she remembers. The three of us had cups pressed to the wall between Elsie’s and Rob’s old room, listening to the entire thing.

“I think the best part was when Molly screamed and said, ‘It’s so sticky!’ ” I say, that last part with a high-pitched squeal, reenacting exactly how I imagine the girl looked, holding my hands up in the air, my face a mask of horror.

“Benjamin James Morris!” Mama calls sternly, throwing her cards down as Elsie and Jake explode with laughter. Even Tara has a hand over her mouth, trying hard to contain her amusement.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Rob mutters, though it’s with a tight-lipped smile.

“Anytime, bro!” He and I are the closest in size, though I’ve got at least thirty pounds of muscle and two inches of height on him.

“There will be no kicking of any kind under this roof!” Mama warns with a finger.

Rob snorts. “Fine. Let’s take it to the barn. It’s better for fighting anyway.”

Dead silence.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Rob backpedals, his hands up in apology.

“No worries, man.” I toss a casual wave his way. “You’re right, the barn is a good place. As soon as we sell the last of the tools and wood, we can start our own fight club in there and Baby Boy Morris will kick all your old asses.” I’ve been busy this week, clearing out the saws and other tools. There’s a ton in there. Add it all up and it’s worth a lot of money.

“Sounds good, man.” I feel a light squeeze of my shoulder as Rob passes by again, on his way to check the skies. “I wish that storm wasn’t coming. I wanted to take Tara out to the grove.”