Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(106)

“You’ll have plenty of time over the weekend.” Mama turns and beams as Rita, Jake’s girlfriend, comes waddling out of the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand.

“What’re y’all playing again?” she drawls with that thick Mississippi accent as Jake reaches back to pull her beside him until her belly is resting against his cheek. Of all my brothers, it’s strangest to see Jake settled down. He was probably the worst, next to me, for chasing girls. But then he hooked up with Rita at Mardi Gras a couple of years back and things changed quickly. Now he’s about to have a baby with her.

“Euchre.” He pats his knees. “Come on and sit. I’ll teach you how to play.”

“Maybe another night. I’m pretty tired.” Ruffling his hair—it’s a darker blond than mine—she turns to me and smiles. “Thanks for giving up Elsie’s old room for us.”

“Just to be clear, I did it for you and that baby, not for this joker.” I wink at her.

“I though you liked the attic! You always liked it growing up,” Mama chimes in.

Jake snorts. “What are you talking about? He was terrified of the attic! Always crying about ghosts. Wait until the thunder hits tonight. He’ll be shaking under his covers, all alone up there.” He grunts as the orange I whip at him hits his stomach.

“You’re eating that,” Mama scolds, wrenching it out of Jake’s hand before he can fling it back. She adds slyly, “I’m sure Reese could protect you from the thunder and ghosts if she were here.”

“Reese?” Jake and Rob echo in unison, their brows almost jumping past their hairlines.

“Don’t tell me . . .” A broad smile stretches across Rob’s face. “Benjy has as girlfriend?”

Fuck, I always hated that name. It makes me feel like a dog. Which I’ve been called many times before, but for different reasons. “Just a friend.” I shoot Mama an exasperated look, but she has picked up her cards again and is studying them intently, an impish smile on her mouth.

It doesn’t matter. Jake and Rob are already at it.

“What kind of girl could tie this * down?”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Do you think she can do basic math?”

“Fake tits or real?” Jake got two slaps across the head and a kick under the table for that question, from every female within reach.

I stand and stretch my hand over my head but manage to get a hand down to block Jake’s fist sailing for my stomach. Stepping out of his reach, I wrap my arms around Rita, resting my hands on her belly. Up until my friend Storm got pregnant, I don’t remember ever touching a woman’s pregnant belly. “When should we tell him about us, Rita?” I say, putting on my best obnoxious grin as I watch Jake’s face turn red.

“Get the f*ck away from her!” he yells, but he’s laughing.

Everyone’s laughing. Even Mama’s trying hard not to, her head shaking, no doubt over the language. I think she has given up for tonight, though.

And I grin. For so many reasons. It’s good to have everyone here.

Almost everyone.

“Where’re you going? We’re in the middle of a game!” Elsie whines.

“I’m going to see what the mature brother is up to.” Josh just got in about an hour ago and he’s spent most of that time in the barn.

“Tell him to come back inside,” Mama asks. “We’re gonna lose power as soon as the storm hits.” It’s pretty much a guarantee.

I round the corner just as Jake says, “Did Ben actually find someone stupid enough to—Ow! Who kicked me that time?”



Seeing the oldest Morris boy standing in the middle of the barn sets my hairs on end. It’s like bringing Joshua Morris Senior back to life and hitting rewind twenty years. Right down to the piercing, hard eyes.

“Hey,” I call out, holding my breath a little as I cross over the invisible barrier between the outside world and my father’s realm. I still don’t like being in here, even after a week of cleaning and airing the place out and changing all the lights. The dampness in the air with the approaching storm only makes the stench of wood thicker.

Josh turns to look at me, his face blank. Not only is he the spitting image of our dad, he also shares his demeanor. He was the quiet, serious one growing up. A bit of a recluse, preferring solitary hobbies like working on engines. He’s the one who taught me how to fix Granddaddy’s tractor.

“Hey, Ben,” he says somberly. After a pause, he steps forward and wraps his arms around my body, surprising me with a hug. Given our seven-year age difference and our polar opposite personalities, we’ve never been close. “I’m glad you were here when it happened.” Stepping away, he slides his hands into his back pockets, his eyes roaming the vaulted ceiling. “I forgot how big this barn is.”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I found hidden in here.” At least fifty empty bottles of whiskey tucked into various corners, along with countless packs of stale cigarettes—I didn’t even know Dad smoked—and some dirty magazines from the seventies—probably our granddaddy’s—that I shoved into Jake’s suitcase as a joke.

“I’ll bet,” he mutters to himself. “What do you think finally made him do it?”