Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
It was an accident, though. A terrible accident.
But it wasn’t the worst thing that happened that night.
Not by a long shot.
“There are things I don’t talk about, Raven. That day is one of them. My time inside is another. So don’t ask.”
She crosses her arms. “Why don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you more than I trust anyone else. But I made a promise. A promise I intend to keep. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
“You went to prison for this.” She shakes her head. “It’s got to be big. All these years, I’ve wondered. I’ve asked Hawk. I’ve asked Eagle. I’ve even asked Dad. No one will speak of it. And while you were gone, it was like the whole thing never happened. Like I didn’t have an older brother who I adore. Whose puppy I was raising and loving. They didn’t—”
I gesture for her to stop. “They did the best they could, Ray.”
“That’s BS.”
She’s right. It is. But can I fault them? I chose to take the rap. I chose to protect my brother. Which is why I’m not going to watch him go down another crooked path. Because the next time? I won’t be there.
I’ll never go back inside.
Not for my brother.
Not for anyone.
I rise and walk toward the bar. “You want anything? An Orange Crush?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I grab her a can and a bottle of water for myself. I pop the tab and hand the drink to her.
She takes a drink.
“Tastes just like sunshine,” she says, as I mouth the words with her.
“Speaking of sunshine, it’s a gorgeous day. Let’s take this little rascal out.” I scoop up Sam and then help Raven out of the recliner.
She nods. “Yeah. Let’s go out.”
“You want to try a short walk again?” I ask.
“I’ve already taken my walk for the day this morning. I think I’d like to sit on the deck.”
“You want to go for a swim?”
“God, no.” She looks down at her body. “I can’t put on a swimsuit. Not until I put some meat back on my bones.”
I frown. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Crazy, isn’t it? I remember when I went through my pudgy phase as an adolescent. I wouldn’t put on a swimsuit then either. Back then I would have loved to be skin and bones.”
“Nah. You wouldn’t have.”
“Certainly not for this reason,” she says. “But when you’re a kid, you don’t think of things in those terms. You take everything for granted. Like feeling good. I used to feel so sorry for myself when we were kids. None of the rest of you went through a pudgy phase.”
“Because the rest of us worked our butts off doing manual labor on the ranch.”
She laughs then. A soft chuckle. “You’re right, and if I’d put two and two together back then, I’d have done a lot more ranch work. I just wasn’t interested.”
Mom yells at us from the kitchen. “Are you staying for lunch, Falcon?”
“Yeah. I’ve got to talk to Dad.”
“I’ll set you a place. You and Raven can come on up. Everything’s ready.”
My mother is the ultimate ranch wife. A hot sit-down breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. Always nutritious, delicious, and filling. I always saw Raven as a ranch wife while we were growing up, but it never happened for her. Her ex Ted was an attorney. She works on the business end of things, but of course she’s been off work since she got sick.
I help Raven out of her recliner, but she yanks her hand away. “I can get up myself. I’m not a fucking invalid.”
Another F-bomb. “I know that, Ray. Jesus.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…” Her eyes brighten. “I’m finally feeling like I’m getting some energy back. It feels good to do things for myself.”
I nod, and she follows me up the small staircase and into Mom’s huge-ass country kitchen.
“Robbie and the boys aren’t joining us today,” Mom says, ladling soup into bowls.
Mom makes great soup, and I swear it never tastes the same twice but it’s always delicious. Even on a hot Texas summer day, she always serves soup at lunch time. It’s tradition in the Bellamy household, and we’re all used to it.
After she’s done serving the soup, she slices up a crusty loaf of her sourdough and sets it on the table, along with a big bowl of fresh fruit salad.
The perfect lunch. Something else I learned to appreciate on the inside. Mom’s cooking, especially when she makes Mexican food. She’s a third-generation Mexican-American—her maiden name was Esparza—and her homemade tamales are to die for.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask. “I need to talk to him.”
“He’s in his study.”
“I thought you said he was out on the acreage,” I say to Raven.
“Sue me. I’m not his keeper.” Raven grabs a slice of bread.
The old Ray is coming back. Thank God.