Page 48

So…there’s that.

And don’t think I meant that woman is Bexley, because it’s not. She loved Samuel in her own way, but not the way she loves me, and I’ll never be convinced otherwise.

She moves away from the window where we stand, and I feel colder. She’s lost weight. Her waist is thinner, her face, too. I watch as she leans down and places another log in the stove. Amber twirls upward, a piece popping out and landing on the floor of the cabin. She turns sideways, crossing her arms.

She’s as beautiful to me now as she was when she was seventeen. Better actually. She looks away from the fire, looking at me. My ankles are crossed, my back leans against the cool windowpane. She shivers, even though she’s standing right by the fire.

I want to tell her to come here. I want to hold her. I long for her touch. So many years have flown by without it. Has she missed me as much as I have her? Has she dreamed about me? She licks her bottom lip and I push off the window, walking over to her. She doesn’t move. I’m right in front of her now, and I start to lean in, and then her eyes close and she says, “Danny.” Her face is pained. I nod, clear my throat, and walk over to the opposite window. I want to rip this whole goddamn place apart.

ChapterTwenty-Six

Bones

2019

The tension is thick between my brother and Bexley. I sensed it all through dinner, but everyone else seemed unaware. It’s been a while since we’ve all sat at Ma’s table and shared a meal. It’s nice to have the kids running around. Ma’s playing cards with Paul, and Ellen is cleaning the kitchen with Bexley. Sweep and Trig sit outside having a smoke and a beer.

“What’s the deal with you two?” I ask Samuel, nodding my head toward the kitchen.

“Mind your business, Danny,” he replies, deadpan.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your big brother?” I say, placing my hand over my chest.

He scoffs and shakes his head as his eyes go to the table. “What are you doing with yourself these days?” he asks me, his voice laced with attitude.

“Running the bar,” I reply, wondering where he’s getting at. We still meet up on Wednesdays and Sundays, not sure why he’s all of a sudden interested in what the fuck I do.

I know, I shouldn’t have asked about him and Bexley. It is their business. I laugh to myself, remembering a time when Bexley said curiosity killed the cat. God, what a lifetime ago that was. Two kids throwing rocks at windows, having no idea just how connected we would eventually become.

So, I shouldn’t have questioned them… Either way, he needs to watch his smart mouth.

His eyes jump back to mine. “Is that what you tell people?”

I narrow my eyes. “Watch it, Samuel. Don’t go poking your nose in places you don’t want to be poking.”

“You think we all don’t know?” he asks. “You think word hasn’t gotten around Postings that you’re up to no good? Look at you, Danny. You look like a fucking criminal.”

I sit up, calmly linking my fingers together on the table, leaning closer to him as I tilt my head. “You think because I don’t look like a pretty boy, Samuel, I’m a criminal? You think because I don’t get up every morning, kiss my sweet little wife, and throw on slave clothes to go work for another man that I’m up to no good?

“You sit here with your fake blue-collar life and judge me? You wouldn’t last a day in my world. Get the fuck out of my face, you disrespectful little prick.”

He smirks. “Yeah, Danny. Who the fuck wants to live in your world?” He stands up, snatching his coat from the back of the chair. “Bex, come the hell on. We’re leaving.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” I say in a low warning tone.

He looks at me with fire in his eyes. “I think you forget that she’smywife.”

I sit back, rubbing the pad of my thumb and index finger together. “I’m very aware of that, brother. Still. Don’t talk to her like that,” I warn with the smallest shake of my head, my eyes blinking once.

“Fuck you,brother.” He emphasizes the wordbrotherand exits through the dining room door. I ball my fists, trying to remember he’s my blood.

I can’t hurt him.

I turn to look behind me, seeing Bexley appear at the doorway leading into the kitchen with a towel in her hand.

My eyes jump down the length of her body before I turn back. “Does he always speak to you like that?”

“What did you do?” she asks accusingly.