Page 1 of Broken Brothers

1

Streaking past the stable of horses, the outdoor pool, and the freshly cut grass, I sprinted to the woods behind the Hunt’s house.

Above, the summer sun shined with only a few clouds in the distance, obscured by the rising trees that grew taller and taller with every yard covered. Sweat poured down my skin, though not just because of the temperature. I felt my heart pump well beyond what a boy of my age and fitness level should have felt.

When I got to the rendezvous point, I hurriedly looked around. Sarah and I had agreed to this meeting point just a few days prior when we had last seen each other—it allowed us to quickly return to our respective homes, but also have enough privacy so that her parents and the Hunts could not spy on us. Just enough privacy, and just enough proximity.

But she wasn’t here yet.

Just calm down, you’re Chance “Hunt.”

You’re awesome. She’ll come. She has to. There’s no way she won’t.

And it was true, it wasn’t just self-talk. Even at a mere twelve years old, I had a confidence to impress girls of any age, a charmto pull many of them in, and the appearance of high status to make it work.

Even if I despised the latter for not truly belonging in the world of wealth, business, and success, not like Morgan did.

“Chance!”

That melodic, feminine voice—the sound that could make butterflies dance with joy, boys’ stomachs flip, and heads turn. That sound reached my ears, through the clearing of the trees. I turned immediately and saw her.

Sarah Hill, the most beautiful girl at Ridge River Middle, with her early blossoming curves, her long, golden hair, and that face that looked lifted out of the cover of a women’s magazine, smiled and ran to me.

Sometimes, I liked to let her run to me as a way of reminding her that I didn’t have to have her. Of course, truth be told, I knew that I had it good with Sarah Hill, and to lose her or have her slowly lose interest would hurt like hell. It was a game, really, a game that I felt silly playing but felt I had to.

Today, though, there was none of that.

I ran up to her, lifted her in my arms, and kissed her. Oh, how good that felt. How good it felt to plant my lips onto hers. A mere four days had passed since I had the chance to be with her alone, but it felt like three days and twenty-three hours too long. I squeezed her like I was going to pop her, and only after she tapped me and asked to be put down did I finally acquiesce.

“Chance Hunt,” she said.

I did my best to keep my smile up. I had to keep appearances up and I had to keep the charm going. To let her know the truth…

“Sarah Hill,” I said back, a rare moment of my words caught in my throat.

What more could I say? What could have possibly topped the two most perfect words in the world—her name? I don’t think Icould have come up with a better response at 32, let alone 12. Even then, I knew sometimes the best approach was just to let our eyes do the talking more than our mouths.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Uh huh.”

“Nuh. Uh.”

“Uh. Huh!”

We once more broke out laughing and kissed again. I can’t lie, I couldn’t help myself, my hand started to move down the small of her back as I went to feel her curves. But just before I got to the good part, Sarah pulled back and smirked.

“Chance Hunt,” she said, pretending to be a Southern belle in this Connecticut suburb. “You know to have patience.”

“I know,” I said, half exasperated and half trying my best to be patient. “But—”

“But you know that good things come to those who wait.”

Her smile told me everything I needed to know. Damn if I would have a hell of a time waiting.