The thunk of his heavy boots vibrates through my head. The ache pounding so violently, I squeeze my eyes tighter against the pain.
The creak of hinges to follow only sharpens the hammer striking inside my skull, my teeth grinding against it. More light filters into the room before it once again dims.
“I hear you’re awake, Mr. Garrison.” A soft, but chipper voice sounds next to me.
Who the hell is that?
It’s not River. The voice isn’t husky enough. Not my woman.
I can only groan as the woman says something else I’m not quick enough to process.
“Mr. Garrison, can you open your eyes for me?”
I resume that same fight of trying to blink them open, but fail. It’s not going to happen.
“That’s okay, honey.” Gloved fingers brace against my arm, moving the aching limb before the blood pressure cuff squeezes tight. “Okay, vitals look good. The doctor will be in soon.”
This time I listened to her retreat. Maybe it’s her shoes or the fact that she just doesn’t stomp around the way Tate does like he owns the fucking world, but her absence reminds me I’m here alone. I want River, not my lying ass brother.
Not right now. Not with those lies he spewed in my face and pretended they were nothing more than dirt under our boots, but were everything. My past, present, and future are all in my brother’s hands now.
Doesn’t matter.
This time, I’m done with him.
My body is growing heavy. That deep, painless sleep is grasping at me. Pulling me under the dark depths of whatever medication the nurse must have just given me. My limbs are becoming weightless, and the pounding in my skull is dulling.
Maybe when I wake the next time, River will be here.
It’s unclear how long I was out when I once again hear Tate’s voice. It seems to thunder through the room, but the throbbing headache has dulled enough that it’s not painful to listen to his words.
Words that begin to unravel me.
I’m not sure if my brother thinks I’m awake or not, as he says all the things that have clearly been on his mind. Confessions, I’m not sure he wanted to give me. Feelings neither of us would want to admit to the other if they were true.
We’ve spent so many years fighting one another. I truly thought that the day we’d met for a drink might be a turning point. One River has insisted I should consider. It’s not worth keeping a world of distance between us when we both clearly share as much love for one another as resentment. Forever shifting amounts of each tipping the scales this way and that.
I knew she was right, but those years tangled with my frustrations over my brother were stronger than her words. Even now, as he speaks his piece, they still are.
He lied to my face.
To my knowledge, Tate has never purposely lied to me. We sling hateful words, but dishonesty was never part of our back-and-forth tussle. Dad brought us up with better values than that.
River comes back to mind. She, too, has a strained relationship with her brothers. One different from ours. They walked away when her parents did, and she let them. Tate just hovers over me like a black cloud that never fucking dissipates.
“Shh,” I groan.
“Hey.” There’s a soothing tone to Tate’s voice. One he used when we were boys and I was upset over some youthful injustice. For me, it was usually accidentally letting an animal loose or the time Dad lost his shit because I flipped a tractor. The scar along the length of my forearm seemingly burning with the memory.
“Stop. Talk-ing.” The words are gravely and harsh, escaping in a voice that isn’t mine.
“Do you need the nurse?”
I tilt my head back and forth a few times, that headache roaring to life again, but for the first time, my eyes flutter open.
“Ri-ver.”
“She’ll be here soon. I spoke to her about an hour ago. Said she has to take care of your boys, Rocket, and her cows.”
