Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
It was working.
I didn’t allow him to make any more of a spectacle of himself. I grabbed a log and showed him the cracks to follow on the sides, then how to hold and swing the maul to get the best cut.
He got better after a few logs, continuing until he was panting. “Yeah, I can see why you like this.”
Sweat glided down his chest, making a path between his pecs, down his abs.
“You just gonna treat me like a piece of meat?” he teased with a wink. “Now, how many more of these things do I have to chop before you tell me what’s up?”
“You ready to fill the shed?” Realizing I was stalling, I sighed. “I love my family,” I said, almost too defensively, as if Cohen didn’t know that, hadn’t seen it for himself.
He rested the head of the maul on the ground, his hand on the tip of the handle. “Do you think I doubt that?”
“Seems everyone else does.”
“I don’t think that’s true, but I’m not them, so whatever you tell me, I’m gonna listen.”
“Haven’t you been able to tell that this talking-about-things business isn’t exactly a skill we O’Ralleys possess?”
“Oh, really? It was hard to tell during Dwain’s coming-out party last night.”
I would have laughed if it hadn’t been so goddamn true.
He dropped the maul and approached, moving into me so effortlessly, his body pulling close to mine as if by some magnetic force. His hands rested against my hips before gliding around to my back.
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. In his hold, I felt his support and encouragement as I worked up the nerve to talk about those things that had been burning in my chest since the morning had been so thoroughly ruined.
“When I was a kid, in elementary school, I used to cut out pictures of places…the Northwest Territories, Machu Picchu, the pyramids of Giza. I’d tack them to this board in my room. Big Momma called me her little explorer since I had all these dreams of traveling the world…adventuring. On Halloween, I’d always be a pirate or explorer…some type of costume where I felt like I could see it all.
“Just got worse as I got older. Added more places. Bigger dreams. After I started attending college, I was saving up to go to Australia that summer. Then spring came, and we got the news about Big Momma’s cancer. She encouraged me to finish the semester, and I traveled back and forth on weekends. The plan was college, major in business, help out with the distillery, and work traveling into my schedule. But as Big Momma got worse, it was all hands on deck. I managed to finish the semester, but by the time I got home full-time, Big Momma was going downhill fast. And it was so fucking hard, watching her deteriorate before our very eyes. Hoping that all that work…chemo and radiation…would be for something, but then in the end…just to watch the life get sucked right out of her. It was excruciating. We all were so broken by the time she was gone.”
Cohen’s hand moved up to my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Of course you were. That’s a horrible thing to have to go through. You have every right to feel that way.”
I thought I was doing a good job fighting back the tears, but then I felt Cohen’s thumb travel through one, the warmth spreading over my flesh.
“Goddammit,” I snapped.
“Brody, you’re not broken now. It’s okay.”
Something about hearing my name, about Cohen telling me it was going to be okay, made me really believe it. Pulled me out of the dark past I’d let my mind drift to. But his words left me with a bitter realization. “The O’Ralleys are still broken. Maybe I’m just mad Dwain went and finally said what I already knew. Nothing’s been right since she’s been gone.”
“But you guys are still together, and you have each other.”
“Apparently that doesn’t mean as much as I thought it did.”
“You don’t mean that. You know they love you. You’re all hurting. And you have every right to hurt. That’s a horrible thing for any family to go through. But you know your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this.”
“Then she shouldn’t have fucking left us!” The words spit out before I had a chance to stop them in my throat, and the moment I spoke them, tears rushed from my eyes. “No, I know she couldn’t do anything…” Shame and guilt overtook me as I pulled away from Cohen. “Fuck me. Fuck.” The tears continued, no matter how much I fought them back. “I’m so sorry, Big Momma.”
I wasn’t even sure there was a place she could have heard me, but I was so fucking sorry for speaking those words, to her, to her memory.