Calmly, Carefully, Completely(63)

“Desperation can make a person do things they wouldn’t normally do,” she says softly. “How’s Matt now?”

I smile. “He’s in remission.”

“Oh, good,” she breathes. “Tell me about the others.”

“Paul’s the oldest. He has a daughter named Hayley, and she lives with us half the time. And Logan is the one I told you about who goes to NYU.”

She counts on her fingers. “There’s one more, right?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Where’s he?”

“He’s away at college on a football scholarship.” He’s living the dream. My dream. Sam just wants to bake cakes. But Paul says we all have to finish college, so he went.

“Are you close?” she asks.

“Not as close as we used to be.”

“Can you remedy that?”

Can I? “I’m going to try.” And I will. As soon as I go home.

She tucks herself closer under my arm and settles there. After a few minutes, her breaths even out and she gets soft in my arms. I look down my nose at her. She’s asleep in my arms, and I don’t ever want to put her down. So, I pull the blanket over the both of us and hold her close to me, as close as I can get her.





Reagan



I wake up to a tinny, clanking sound. I sit up, sticky where I slept against Pete’s shoulder. We must have sweated together, our skin pressed close. And I might have drooled on him a little bit, too. Yuck. I wipe the side of my mouth and sit up. Pete stirs under me and then freezes. He lifts his head and looks around. He groans and falls back against the blanket. “Shit, I’m f*cked,” he grunts.

“You better not have been,” my dad calls out. He clanks the lid of the feed bucket as he scoops out sweet feed for the horses. Link helps him, and Dad’s making a lot more noise than Link is.

I close my eyes. Dad’s mad. I just slept in the barn with Pete. And he knows it. “Oh shit,” I say.

“Oh shit,” Link parrots.

Pete closes his eyes as he grins. “You better stop while you’re ahead,” he whispers with a laugh.

“Good morning, Pete,” Dad says, faking joviality as he walks by us carrying buckets. I start to sit up, but as I pull the blanket from Pete, I realize he still doesn’t have a shirt on. He took it off last night so I could explore his ink. This looks really bad.

“Where’s your shirt?” I whisper. I look around in the lump of blankets and don’t see it.

“Oh shit,” Link says again. He pops his head up beside mine and holds up Pete’s blue T-shirt.

“Oh, blue shirt,” Pete says.

“Oh, blue shirt,” Link parrots.

Pete takes it and pulls it over his head. He reaches out to ruffle Link’s hair, but Link steps to the side. “At least he’s not saying shit anymore,” Pete says.

“Shit,” Link says.

I groan and run a hand through my hair.

“Lincoln!” Dad barks. “Bring me that bucket.”

“Bring me the bucket,” Link says. He scampers off to get Dad’s bucket.

“Good morning,” Pete says quietly. He turns to drop his feet to the floor and stands up, stretching tall. He shows a small strip of his abs, and I want to lean forward and lick him. God, where did that come from?

“Morning,” I mutter. I lick my lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Pete whispers.

“Like what?” I whisper back. But a grin tugs at the corners of my lips. I can’t help it.