Page 84 of Carry On

That notion made me chuckle because only Peter would give that kind of option to someone when he picked up a phone.

“Do you ever have anyone take you up on that offer?” I asked.

“Nash?” Peter’s voice rose an entire octave, breaking as it did. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, kid, it is.”

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Do you know how long it’s been? I thought… I don’t know. I kind of… thought you forgot about me.”

Fuck. I never wanted him to think that.

“I didn’t,” I told him. “I couldn’t.”

I racked my brain for a hot minute, trying to remember when I’d called him last. I did my best to call every six months, but honestly, time was muddled out there. Some weeks, I was lucky if I knew what the fucking day was.

“It’s been almost a year,” Peter said. Fuck, I hadn’t meant for it to be that long between calls.

“I’m sorry.” It was about the only thing I could say, and it wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. Despite the shit our dad had pulled with my life, I was grateful for Peter. He was a good kid with a big heart, and he looked up to me. I still couldn’t figure out why. Sometimes, the age gap made it hard, especially when he was younger, but he never seemed to care. And me? I just did my best to be good to him. I just wasn’t working with a lot to begin with. “I am sorry, kid. Sometimes, life just…”

“Gets away from you?” he finished for me. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear from you.”

Is he, though?the voice blasted its way to the forefront of my mind, fueled by the anxiety of this whole conversation.

I’d never deserve to have this kid as a brother. He was always so damn good about the way I came and went in his life.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “How are you? You doing good?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, and I could practically hear his goofy smile through the phone. “Things are good. I got my first truck. I’ve been interviewing at a few ranches in the area. Well, not really in the area, but there are a few towns nearby that I’m looking into.”

“Ranches?” I repeated. “Do you think you could make it on a ranch?”

“I like horses.”

“Yeah, but do you like cows?”

“Who doesn’t like cows?”

“I don’tlike cows.”

“Are you just saying that to be grumpy, or do you actually not like cows?” Peter demanded. Fuck, this kid was over here calling my ass out. That was new.

“Shit, you got brazen after turning nineteen, didn’t you?” I shot back, making him chuckle.

“Not really,” he replied, “but I also know your bullshit when I hear it.”

“I don’t like cows,” I retorted. “They’re too big, they smell, and I swear to fuck they’re plotting something. What that is? I don’t have a fucking clue. But they’re too damn innocent looking to actuallybethat innocent.”

“Well, you should try cuddling one,” he said.

“That’s a hard fucking pass from me.” There was no way in hell anyone was ever getting me to cuddle a goddamn cow.

“Maybe you can visit one day, and I’ll take you to meet some cows,” he replied quickly. There was an awkward lull after he said it. “You know… if you ever end up back this way.”

That was the one thing I never told Peter: where I ended up. I used pay phones or borrowed a phone to make the calls to him. I always let him believe I was somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t here. While he knew I wandered a lot, I wasn’t sure he knew I was homeless. His mom knew, but I didn’t have a clue what she told him, and Peter never said a word about it. While we talked a few times a year, I hadn’t seen my brother in almost eight years.

Because you’re a crappy brother,the voice reminded me.Selfish… a cruel joke. He doesn’t deserve you.

Yeah, I knew that.