His past?
My mother’s smile grew, watching him like a proud parent. “He said he couldn’t stand the thought of taking our love or attention from you two.”
I blinked at the unexpected answer. “What?”
“I know! I mean,hello”—she waved her arms around—“I have gotmorethan enough to go around! Plus, you can’t reallytake what you already have. And that man has always had our love.” She resumed rocking in her chair. “Adopted or not, Forsythe will always be a part of our family. It’s what your daddy always wanted.” She sipped her tea and hummed to herself, rocking in her chair, watching him. “I just wish he could’ve seen him like this.”
I looked back at Forsythe as he rolled around in the dirt with the cheerful old dog. “Being silly?” I snorted as Wimberly licked his face.
“No.” My mother sighed. “Carefree. You know, he’s really blossomed since you’ve returned.” She sipped her tea and resumed humming.
I sat there, watching as Forsythe climbed to his feet, wiping his forehead. He was covered in dirt and his shirt was soaked in sweat from how hard he and Wimberly had been playing. The white t-shirt clung to every inch of his torso, sticking to him like a second skin. I could see little strokes and details of what appeared to be tattoos all over his chiseled chest and arms. There was no way he was forty-five…not with a body like that.
What the hell? Why are you even thinking such a thing?
I tried to compose myself, but as soon as Forsythe turned around, I nearly choked on my sweet tea. The sweat soaked shirt revealed a giant back tattoo, one that literally covered every inch of his skin. And seeing it made my thighs tighten.
Seeing him now, I’m glad he wasn’t adopted. Because I can’t imagine having Forsythe as my brother…especially now.
“Knock knock!”The hospital door silently swung open, and I peeked my head inside.
Boone’s entire face lit up. “Loulou!” He groaned while attempting to adjust his posture to greet me. “I didn’t know you were coming by today. Hey, nice pj’s.” He chuckled and pointed to my pajama pants.
“Keep it up and I’ll have to tell the nurse aboutthis!” I raised my arm to reveal a small care package from our mom.
Boone’s eyes widened in excitement at the sight of it. “Is that?—”
I nodded. “Mhm. Mom’s famous peach cobbler. Complete with…” I raised my other arm. “Homemade cinnamon and vanilla ice cream.” I grinned at my brother clapping his hands together like a little kid. “Uh-uh. You only gettheseif you promise to be nice.”
He laughed. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. Now gimme.” He reached out.
I giggled to myself and sat the goodies down, making him a single serving. “You know how hard it was trying to sneak these in? I had to stuff them in my hoodie.”
Boone chuckled. “You’d think someone wearing a hoodie in this heat would be suspicious.”
“Meh, I’m sure the nurses know what’s up and just pretend not to. Here.” I carried a small plate of the cobbler with ice cream over to his bedside. His dark eyes sparkled as he dug the plastic fork into the warm, flaky crust. Boone wasted no time devouring his dessert. He even licked the little crumbs of crust from the plate with a cheerful smile.
My brother sucked on the fork while eyeing me closely. “So, I guess you heard.”
I knew the cobbler was a dead give away.
After spending the morning with mom, talking about, well, everything—she asked me to come visit Boone. Alone.
With a heavy sigh, I plopped down in the reclining chair. “I hear you stopped going to therapy.” I didn’t even look at my brother, already on edge and anxious for having to be the one to do this. Mom thought he’d ignore whatever she had to say, same as the doctors, but she hoped he’d at least hear me out.
My brother pulled the plastic fork from his mouth and stared at it. “There’s no reason for me to keep going.” He dropped it onto the empty plate. “I’m fine.” He tried to look at me with a forced smile, but I knew he was just wearing a mask.
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying,” he hissed. “I’m just…I don’t want to spend my days sitting here, talking to someone as if I’ve experienced some major trauma!” He blinked, relaxing a little with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry?—”
I picked at my pants, cutting him off with my words. “But you did experience trauma. Your accident with Reaper wasn’t just some little accident, Boone. You nearly died.”
“But I didn’t,” he scoffed.
I smirked. “You’re right, you didn’t. But just because you survived, doesn’t mean everything is okay. You suffered physically, yes, but you also suffered mentally.”
Boone tisked. “I’mmentallyfine, Loulou.”
