Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(100)

I smirk, remembering Jake and me walking into each other’s rooms the first time, holding out the boxes of condoms we’d each found on our nightstand. We figured out pretty quickly who had delivered them, seeing as our dad didn’t give a shit. Mama earned the nickname of the Trojan Fairy. Behind her back, of course. There was an unspoken agreement—Mama didn’t mention it to us and we didn’t say a word to her. From then on, we’d just leave a note on our nightstands when we were out, and a new box would appear a few days later, along with a note telling us that she didn’t condone this behavior and to be safe.

With a heavy sigh, I hang my head as I resign myself to the fact that Mama’s right. Reese has done something to me. “Well, I’m not going back out there, so you’d better rescue her with the truck or she’ll be grinding the gears of the tractor to get back. I doubt that girl can handle a stick.”

Not that kind, anyway.

“How are you possibly bigger!” Elsie says with a laugh as I throw her tiny body over my shoulder with no effort.

“I’m not. You’ve just started shrinking in your old age,” I tease, grabbing her bag with my free hand and carrying her toward the porch like a sack of potatoes.

She starts playing the bongos on my back with her hands. “Okay, seriously, Ben. Put me down.”

“Or what?”

There’s a long pause as her impish mind searches for something she has on me. She’s a lot like me in that regard. “Or I’ll tell this girlfriend of yours that you used to pretend you were Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing and you memorized all the dance moves.”

“Reese has got way worse material on me than that.” I drop her suitcase and swing her down off my shoulder to take in her cute face. She looks so much like a younger version of Mama—but with long, curly chestnut hair—that it’s crazy. “And she’s not my girlfriend, Elsie.”

“That’s not what Mom says.” She laughs at me as I roll my eyes and shake my head. I think I’m the only one of us that still calls her Mama. Reese is right. I do milk the youngest child thing for all it’s worth.

Elsie’s smile falters as her eyes dart to the barn. “It’s so weird to be back here, Ben. It’s been so long. Everything looks the same but it’s not anymore, is it?” She was already in college when my dad’s accident happened. We talked on the phone a lot after but she never came back. Of all of us, my sister has been gone from here the longest. She flew in to Miami to see me after my knee injury five years ago, when I was high on Percocet and hostility over a future lost. Aside from a trip out West to visit her three years ago, I haven’t seen her in person since.

“How is she doing?” I know they’ve stayed close, even though Elsie has refused to come out here. But still, not seeing your mom face to face for almost five years is crazy.

Before I can answer, the front door creaks open. We turn to see Mama step out, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s been in the kitchen all day. Whatever she’s making, it involves a lot of flour because she’s got white powder all over her cheeks and her chin.

That doesn’t dissuade Elsie from taking off immediately, running like a little kid into Mama’s outstretched arms, the sound of their cries filling the late afternoon air.

How’s Warner?

I lie back in bed, watching the screen on my phone, expecting Reese to be asleep but hoping that she’s not. Since Mama’s “experiment” with Hayley, I’ve pulled my phone out a dozen times to check in with Reese for . . . nothing, really. Just to say hi, to make her laugh, to have her make me laugh. But I could never decide what to say. Normally, I don’t know when to shut up.

The indicator changes to “read,” making my stomach do a flip. Fuck . . . I’m acting like a chick.

A few seconds later:

The law bot came looking for you in my office this morning. I’ve buried her body under your desk. You’ll have to clean that up when you get back.

My snort cuts into the quiet room.

Tell Mason. He’s better at cleaning than I am.

How is it up there?

Women are throwing themselves at me. You better get here quick.

I wait and wait and . . . it says “read,” but there’s no answer coming. I’m expecting some snide remark, calling me a pig or something. But the longer I wait, the more I’m starting to think that was a boneheaded thing to say. I do wish she’d just drop everything and race up tonight, but now she probably thinks I’m up here screwing girls.

Does she care, though?

I hesitate for just a second and then type out:

The funeral’s on Friday. Mama wants you to come.

I wait. She’s read it.

Still no answer.

“Fuck!”

I guess that came out a little too loud, because there’s a knock on my door a moment later. “You’re not doing anything gross in my old room, are you?” Elsie asks.

“I wish!” I holler back.

“Are you decent? Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” I make sure my sheets are covering the vitals as the door creaks open and my sister walks in.

“What’s wrong?” Elsie always seemed to like being smack dab in the middle of four brothers. Josh and Rob harassed the guys at school for looking at their “cute little sister,” but then she’d turn around and do the same for Jake and me, playing the protective sister. The funny thing is, in the end all four of us were protecting her. She was in the middle of a big Morris sandwich, with brothers chasing off ass**les from all angles.