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.”
