But if I don’t show up, that would mean he won a game that started deep in the Blue Ridge mountains on April fifteenth, twenty-nine years ago. I didn’t understand the sibling rivalryuntil I was older, but from the day I was born, which was also the day we lost our mother, Cain has wanted to see me suffer.
We might share the last name,Wolfe, but I’m a Boston Bruiser through and through.It ain’t over ‘til we win.Skipping out or not showing up at his wedding or the annual camping trip we’ve been competing in since we were young would mean Cain wins. Can’t have that. Not after everything I endured.
Cat and I leave the car rental office in a Jeep. We drive farther inland and the mountains close around us. As is tradition, I stop in town to get some coffee. After the long flight, I’ll need a boost before meeting Cain.
“Is this where you grew up?” Cat asks after we each get a coffee and muffin. I take note that she gets chocolate banana.
“Sort of. I grew up outside of town. The Wolfes kept to themselves for the most part.”
“It’s interesting to hear other people with your accent.”
I snort a laugh. “And I’m sure they’re delighted to hear yours.” I know I am. Right now, it’s the one thing tethering me from wandering down a dark path, locking down all external stimuli, and going deep into whatever part of my brain that helped me survive all those years.
When we head back to the Jeep, Cateline stops and chats with a couple and pets their dogs. She fusses over two fluffy little lap yappers. I chuckle to myself because I thought of her as a yipper when we first met. More like we bickered like cats and dogs.
“Come say hello to Beauty and Beast,” Cateline calls to me.
Like a dutiful K9, I obey. The little male dog nuzzles me and quickly decides we’re best friends. “This guy isn’t a beast. He’s a good boy. A very gentle, good boy.”
I catch the edge of Cat’s smirk, then turn total softie. I love on those two dogs like nobody’s business. Truth is, I love dogs of all shapes, sizes, breeds, and ages. Sometimes I think I’dprefer life with them and them alone. Much easier than human relationships.
When the couple, along with Beauty and Beast, move on, Cateline gives me a long look. “Didn’t know you were such a dog lover.”
“Shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise. After all, my last name is Wolfe. I fund wolf sanctuaries—did that meet and greet and donated money to an animal charity back in Concordia.”
“No, but those were little dogs. I’d imagine you to be a big dogs-only guy.”
“A dog is a dog. I don’t discriminate.”
“And that’s why they call you Wolf, noE.” The comment is a little jab, given my reputation.
But the truth is, I haven’t so much as glanced at another woman in over a week. That might be a personal best.
“There was no subtext to my comment,” I say.
“When you were a kid, did you have a dog?” Cateline asks.
“Yep. Skittles was my best friend.”
“Skittles?”
“Yes, Skittles. I found him, bone thin, behind a convenience store, eating a pack of the candy. Not the candy itself. Just the wrapper. I loved that dog. Have you ever had a pet?”
Looking sad, Cat shakes her head.
I don’t mention that Cain hated Skittles and did his best to get him to hate me. Didn’t work. That dog was loyal to me and it went both ways.
We head back to the Jeep and I consider whether to warn Cat about what we’re likely to walk into. Cain texted when we left the airport to meet him at Dad’s old place. I haven’t been there in a dog’s age, whatever that means. Left and never looked back.
Like her visa situation, I’d like to pretend this isn’t happening. Alas, I can’t very well ignore my brother and then show up at the wedding. It’s probably better we get out ouraggression on neutral territory, if the shack where we grew up could be called that.
The wooded road closes around us and I slow as the pavement turns into dirt. I’m gripping the steering wheel so tight my arm muscles flex and just as I relax them, Cateline glances away. She’ll be seeing a lot more of those in the coming week.
When I put the Jeep in park in front of what looks like little more than an abandoned clearing in the woods, I draw a deep breath. “Okay. It’s showtime.”
Cateline gazes at the small cabin through the windshield as though she’s missing something after that comment—a stage, lights, an audience. There’s none of that and no people for miles.
“We’re meeting my brother Cain. He and I don’t really get along. He asked me to meet him here,” I say, anticipating any questions she may have.
