Page 9 of Crossroads

EIGHT

“Jasper! I want to play with the kittens!” My little brother shuffles out of the house, and I watch as he takes each step at a pace that makes my heart race. But he sticks the landing after jumping off the last step and runs over to me in his little cowboy boots.

God, I love this kid.

I was fifteen when he was born, fourteen when my mom told me that Dad and she had a surprise for me in the form of a little brother coming soon. I always felt sad growing up because I didn’t have any siblings, while everyone else I knew did. But I wasn’t sure about it when I was a teenager.

Having a baby around didn’t sound all that pleasant.

That was until Logan came along . . . and I saw his big eyes looking up at me as his chubby hand grasped my finger. And that was it. I’ve been wrapped around his little finger since that day.

He’ll be four in November and heading to preschool, but this summer is already proving to be a bit of a challenge for Mom’s and my work schedules. Thankfully, Kelly is a saint who doesn’t mind doting on my little brother from time to time.

She even lets him sleep in the room she has reserved for her grandchildren when he stays the night. It’s set up with plenty of toys and a night-light. A little bed she actually bought Spiderman sheets for.

He jumps into my waiting arms when I kneel down, and I hug him again.

I’ve been busy lately training the shithead over there.

I glare in Emerson’s direction and see he’s watching me instead of shoveling out the barn like he’s supposed to be doing,then look at my little brother.

I’ve missed him. “You want to play with the kittens, huh?”

“Yup,” he says, pulling out of my hold, and I stand up, watching him march right past Emerson and into the barn.

“Careful, some of them bite,” Emerson says. I told him not to talk to my brother, damn it.

But of course, he doesn’t listen. Emerson never listens.

“They won’t bite me! They love me.” My little brother blazes ahead, going straight to where the kittens were last time he was here. He finds one behind the hay bales, but I think the rest are busy exploring.

He grabs the orange cat conveniently named Ginger and hugs him to his little chest.

He looks over at Emerson, his face determined. “See?”

Emerson actually cracks a smile, looking fondly at my brother. “I stand corrected. He bit the sh—” He actually stops himself before cursing. “Poop?” He seems to look at Logan for approval, and my little brother nods his head, satisfied. “He bit the poop out of me yesterday.”

“Let me see!” Logan says, walking over to Emerson, the cat still in his arms. Emerson holds out his right hand that sure enough doesn’t only seem to have a bite wound at the tip of one of his fingers but several scratches.

“Whoa! You need to clean that, or it will get ’fected!”

I smile at my brothers attempt at saying infected.

“I did,” Emerson assures him, and my brother studies him like maybe he doesn’t believe him but then shrugs it off and goes about his day. Ah, to be three again.

Logan tags along for most of our chores today, carrying his kitten around for most of it and finding others as we go.

He loves all animals, so he took his time chatting and petting all of them as Emerson and I repaired fences, fed them, took care of the stalls in the barn, and made sure they all had fresh water.

Logan had a million questions for Emerson, and surprisingly, Emerson didn’t seem annoyed and wasn’t a dick to him. He just answered each question with amusement and even shot questions back at Logan.

I don’t like that they seem to have formed a friendship, but what can I really do? My brother pretty much gets what he wants, and it’s not like I actually have a say. Not while Emerson is acting like a normal human being toward him anyway.

By the time dinner is over, I’m beat and ready to go to bed. But of course, my little brother has other plans. “I want to watch a movie!”

“I think it’s time for bed,” I try, even though I can already tell by the inflection in his tone it’s not going to go well.

“Noooooo,” he starts, and I actually catch Emerson smirking before I shoot him an angry look. “I want to watch a movie!”

Okay, so I know you aren’t really supposed to give into tantrums, but the kid has been through a lot lately. And hey, I’m not his father. I’m his older brother. “Okay, fine. A short one.”

Yes, I know they’re all around the same length.

We settle on the couch in Kelly and John’s living room.

Kelly makes cookies and popcorn because she can’t help herself from spoiling my brother either.

And when John, Kelly, and Millie all join us, we start the movie, but what surprises me most is that Emerson sticks around too.

I should tell him to go away, but I don’t.

Maybe I’m just too tired from the day or maybe it’s because my brother seems to like him, but I just kick my feet up on the coffee table and let my little brother snuggle into me while we watch one of his favorites.

It’s nice getting to let him just be a kid tonight because it’s likely that come tomorrow, reality will hit and hit hard.

The next morning, I sit out on the porch steps at the house I grew up in, waiting for my parents to get home. I know I told my mom I’d bring Logan home first thing this morning, but Kelly thought—and I agreed—maybe I should give my dad a minute to settle in.

She’ll bring him over in a couple of hours, no doubt full of sugar but fairly happy.

She wanted me to take the whole day off, but I can’t do that.

So, I settled for half a day off. The first part of the day, Emerson will be supervised by John.

If he thinks I’m a hardass, just wait until he experiences a full day with Mr. Wright.

I can’t worry about that now because my parents’ truck pulls into the drive, and I see my dad in the passenger’s seat. I rush over to his door, and I’m greeted with a smile that looks more like a grimace. I know he’s in pain, but I also know he doesn’t want me to know that.

You see, four years ago, my father, the strongest man I know, was hurt in an accident out on the oil rig where he worked.

He hurt his back. I still to this day don’t understand the logistics of it all, but I do know that because my father was a little bullheaded, instead of going to the doctor, he went back to work the next day. And the next.

Until the pain was so crippling, he could barely move. And by that time, the damage had been done.

And a few days ago, he had his fifth and hopefully final back surgery, but honestly, we’re all starting to lose hope.

He’s in constant pain. His nerves all messed up and convulsing on him.

It’s horrible to see, and like the coward I am, I’ve spent a lot of time away from the house because I can’t bear to see it for very long.

“Hey, Dad. Let me help you inside.”

“I don’t want anyone fussing over me,” he says predictably.

“No fussing. I promise,” I say with a grin, and he laughs, but then he winces in extreme pain. I don’t waste any more time getting him into the house and to the couch to lie down for a while.

I cover him with a blanket but try not to fuss. My dad is a proud man, and I know being taken care of like this is killing him. I also notice his legs are shaking—which happens when you have surgery on your nerves that are already freaking out, I guess.

“He just needs rest,” my mom says, placing her hand on my shoulder. I force myself to look away from my dad’s trembling body and at her. “Where’s Logan?”

“Uh, Kelly will bring him by soon. Thought maybe Dad needed to settle in.”

“That’s nice of her.” She jerks her head toward the kitchen like she wants me to follow her. “Come on. I’m going to make breakfast.”

My mom looks exhausted beyond belief. I have no doubt she didn’t get any sleep last night, even after working a double shift, because she was worried about my dad coming home today.

Because now the therapy starts. And the pain. And the disappointment when his back doesn’t get any better and he can’t go back to work. My dad is understandably depressed, and so is my mom.

But I don’t argue with her about not needing to make breakfast. Instead, I do what I can to help her make everything, then sit at the table while both of us pick nervously at the food until it’s time to clean up.

I help her get my father to the bathroom and then back to the couch just in time for Kelly to show up with Logan. My little brother clearly doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he knows our dad is in pain.

I’d do anything to prolong his reality of coming back here, but even though he loves the farm, I can’t keep watch over him well enough during my work hours, and I can’t ask Kelly to give up any more of her time—though she’d do it without hesitation.

She has bills to pay and lots of products to make for the farmers’ markets.

Kelly leaves, but I don’t stay for very long after that. I can’t seem to do it. Watching the strongest man I’ve ever known writhe in quiet agony is too much for me. So after telling my family goodbye, I head back out to the Wright farm, and I’m in a shitty mood.

So when I see Emerson standing by the fence all by himself, I’m ready for a fight. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask after I park my truck and start walking his way.

But when he turns, I realize he isn’t alone. No. His hands are on the horns of one of our grumpiest, oldest goats, Walter. And poor Walter has his horns stuck in the fence.

“Damn it. How did this happen?”

I know how it happened. He does this often, but I’m pissy, so there you go. Emerson doesn’t seem all that surprised by my mood, which pisses me off even more. I wonder if Millie, John, or Kelly told him about my family.

I’d like to think they didn’t, but I can’t be totally sure.

“Your guess is as good as mine. John had to run into town, and I was in the barn when I heard this guy screaming.”

I stroke my knuckles over the crown of his head, trying to soothe him. “Damn it, Walter. Got yourself in a predicament again, huh?”

“Again?” Emerson says with irritation. “This has happened before?”

I shrug. “Maybe.” He huffs but otherwise keeps his mouth shut, which is unusual for Emerson. “You pry the fence apart as best you can, and I’m going to do my best to push him through.”

Blessedly, he doesn’t argue. Just does what I said, and soon enough, we get the goat free. He doesn’t seem all that grateful either, just letting out a “bah” and then hops off happily.

“How’s your brother?”

“Don’t worry about my brother. Why the hell are you asking about him? Did Kelly tell you anything?” Okay, so I need to chill, but I’m a little sleep-deprived and more than a little stressed. The bills are adding up for my parents.

I know even if my mom won’t outright tell me how bad it is, it has to be bad. My dad hasn’t been able to work in years, and the meager payments from disability just don’t cut it.

My mom works as often as she can, but if I can’t watch Logan or if she’s too proud to ask Kelly for help, she has to pay for daycare. Not to mention my dad used to make a pretty decent living out on the rig, and they splurged a little on the house.

So the payments have to be more than they can afford.

Emerson watches me with annoyance, his expression a deep scowl. “Relax. I was just making conversation. I thought small-town people love small talk.”

“We do,” I say, walking away from him toward the barn. “Just not with city people.”

He catches up with me, his stride matching my own. “And what do you mean by what did Kelly tell me? She just said she was taking Logan home this morning and that she’d be back in time for lunch. What’s the big damn secret here?”

Every word just further pisses me off as I yank open the barn door and go about starting chores. “Don’t worry about my brother. And don’t worry about me and my life. Just keep your head down, do your chores, and shut your mouth.”

“You’re such a goddamn dick.”

I don’t argue with that. There’s really no reason to.

I expect him to say something else. I’m on edge today. It’s not been a good day. So I wait for him to pick at the wound, maybe even bring up Lucy.

But for whatever reason, he’s quiet for the rest of the day, just letting me sulk and brood.

Thank God for small favors.