Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I was the lucky one,” Charlie replied. “For a while there.”
“Even the toe didn’t gross him out,” I told Ambrose with a little laugh. “And you’ve seen it. That thing was weird looking.”
“It was not.” Charlie rolled his eyes.
“You should’ve seen it when it happened,” Ambrose replied with a grimace. “Blood everywhere. I thought our mother was going to faint.”
“He dropped an axe, right?” Charlie said, curling his hands together under his cheek.
He looked so young. My older brother, who had always felt younger than me. Always sweet. Always helpful. Always kind. The world hadn’t been able to change him yet, and I swore it never would, not if I still had breath in my body. There was something unmistakably pure in Charlie. He could curse like a sailor and got angry as much as the next person, but I’d never seen him take it out on someone else. I’d never seen him make anyone feel less.
He didn’t deserve what had happened to him.
No one deserved it, but Charlie deserved it even less.
“Right on his foot,” Ambrose confirmed with a nod. “He was always trying to keep up with us, even though he was the youngest. I think it was Chance’s turn to chop wood. Back then, we kept the house warm with a woodstove, so if we didn’t have split wood, we’d go cold.”
“Back in the olden days,” I drawled.
Ambrose pinched one of my toes and continued with his story.
“So Zeke went out to do it himself, even though my parents didn’t expect him to help with that chore yet. I think he was trying to get on Chance’s good side, but it also probably had a lot to do with pride. Zeke hated being the baby.”
“And that’s how we all know that Zeke was insane,” I joked, grinning at Charlie. “Being the baby is the best.”
“So he’s out there for a while,” Ambrose said. “And nobody realized what he was trying to do, but eventually, my mother ordered Chance to go finish his chores. He stomps outside, grumbling and pissed, and half a minute later he comes running back in, and he’s white as a sheet. We all go running outside, and Zeke’s sitting on a log, swaying, staring at his mangled foot.” Ambrose paused, staring at the floor. “He wasn’t making a sound.”
The room was quiet for a long moment before Ambrose spoke again. “He always said that Chance startled him.”
“That’s what he told me,” Charlie added.
“But Chance says that he found Zeke already sitting on that log with a bloody foot.” Ambrose shook his head. “Who knows what the truth is.”
“Well,” I mused. “Chance wouldn’t have wanted to get in trouble for startling his baby brother and getting him hurt.”
“Good point.” Ambrose grinned at me. “But Zeke was always getting hurt, so I don’t know that Chance would’ve gotten into trouble. One time, we were down at the river…”
Ambrose told stories for hours while Charlie lay across from us, soaking it all up. He smiled and laughed and cried a little, but it felt like I was watching in real time as a little of my brother’s spark came back, if only for a little while. I would never be able to pay Ambrose back for what he gave Charlie that night—a glimpse into the life of his mate that he’d never see. More memories that he would’ve never had otherwise, even if those memories were second hand. It was such a gift.
I knew then that bringing Charlie to the Bouchers was the right choice. If Ambrose could give Charlie that, and he was just one person, maybe being surrounded by Zeke’s family could give him even more.
I stayed awake as long as I could, but the hum of their voices eventually lulled me to sleep. When I woke up a few hours later, the only light in the room filtered out of the bathroom doorway, and there was an arm draped over my waist. Across from me, Charlie’s bed was empty.
I shot up so fast that I made myself dizzy.
“He’s in the other room,” Ambrose told me softly. “He’s fine.”
“Why did he go in there?” I asked, glancing at the darkened doorway.
“I think he wanted some privacy.”
“Then you should’ve left,” I replied, turning to look at him. “That’s your room.”
“We wanted to let you sleep.”
“I was already asleep.”
“You wouldn’t have stayed that way if I left you,” he reminded me gently.
I let out a frustrated breath and looked at the doorway again. If I listened carefully, I could hear my brother’s familiar snoring. It wasn’t obnoxious or anything, at least I didn’t think so, but it had always been noticeable thanks to a deviated septum he’d had since we were kids when a bully broke his nose.
“Thanks for what you did earlier,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You know, the stories.”