Luke stops searching. Slowly, he moves his head, so he’s staring at me. Cocks his head to the right. Eerie stillness claims the north woods. Even the animals, the creatures, stay still. Quiet. They know evil when they smell it.
“What did you say?” His words are clear, full of madness.
I repeat myself. “That worthless piece of shit saved your wife and son a lifetime full of torture.”
He walks toward me with purpose and shoves the gun against my cheek. He whispers in my ear, “You have no fucking idea what our life is like.”
Is like?
Luke is using present tense as if they were still together. Still united.
Luke keeps the gun at my face and starts to laugh. He pulls back his face and brings the butt of the gun down hard against my face.
I call out.
He stands. “Tell me where my fucking family is, you stupid cunt.”
My head aches. The blood that pools in my mouth, I try to spit it out, but everything aches. I can’t see clearly, and my head begins to throb.
The truth is, I will never tell Luke where they are. I can’t. If it means I have to die protecting them, so help me God, I will.
“I’d rather die than tell you. Men who hit their children and wives deserve to die a slow death.” I spit out blood again, the ache in my face growing massively.
Luke points the gun directly at me as he stands not even five feet away.
I hope Ethan will understand.
I hope my mother won’t blame herself.
I hope Ryker finds help, for his sake.
I close my eyes, blood pooling quickly in my mouth again.
Luke fires the gun.
It’s warm when the bullet hits. Warm like flannel sheets on a cold winter night. The warmth spreads throughout my body, and my feelings grow softer. Lighter. As if this were just a dream.
Nana’s words play in my head. “Don’t live in fear; it’s a waste of measured breaths that we don’t get too many of.”
Two figures emerge from the darkness.
Eli and Aaron, guns drawn.
I’m happy they’re here. I’m really happy. I ease back to the ground as warmness continues to spread throughout my body.
They’re yelling now, and I see their twisted faces.
“No!”
“Put the gun down!”
Then, shots are fired.
I stare up into the trees as my body rests on the terrain of the north woods. Somehow, it’s comfortable and light and warm.
Finally, I see Ethan. He’s over my body. I’m so glad he’s here.
His face is concerned. Sad even.
“Don’t cry, Ethan,” I manage to say brokenly. “Don’t cry.”
I hear sirens in the distance, and I gently close my eyes.
Thirty-Two
Ethan
I gather myself and lie down next to Bryce, taking her in my arms, knowing I could make things worse, her injuries, but I can’t help it.
“Bryce, you will hang on. Do you hear me? Help is coming.” I bury my face in her auburn hair, not knowing where the blood begins and ends. “I love you,” I whisper as I cling to her, desperately searching for where the blood is coming from.
I don’t look over at the man’s body, which lies not even five feet away, lifeless and without care. We knew he’d take himself out. He knew, if he took another shot at Bryce, he’d die instantly. Instead, he didn’t want to die by our gunshots but rather his own. That’s how some criminals work.
I hear Eli quickly say, “Isn’t that the politician’s son whose wife and son went missing?”
I curl into Bryce’s body as she begins to shake.
“Aaron!” I scream. “Better get that ambulance here now! Her body is going into shock.”
Aaron is pulling me away from her.
“No. No! I want to be here with her.”
“Ethan, the EMTs are here. Please, you need to let go, so they can save her life, brother. Come on.”
Aaron takes me by the shoulders and pulls me from Bryce. I reluctantly let go of her so they assess the damage to her beautiful body.
Quickly, they load her onto the stretcher.
“We need to get her to Portland. She’ll be flown out,” Randy, the EMT, tells Aaron as they brush past us with Bryce and down the hill.
By this time, almost all of Granite Harbor PD is here to help the EMTs down the hill.
I want to go. I get up, but Aaron catches me.
“There won’t be enough room for you. Come on. You know that. With weight capacity, they need everything in the plane to take care of Bryce; you aren’t part of that.”
I gather my legs underneath me and run to Luke’s body, but before I can kick the living shit out of it, Aaron comes up behind me and pulls me away.
“Brother, listen to me.” His words are influential. “You kick him, it will only disrupt the actual picture of what played out tonight up here. Got it?” He breathes, still holding me back. “Besides, Ethan, he’s gone. He’ll feel no kicks or punches.”
We stare down at Luke O’Connor’s body, blood still oozing from the self-inflicted gunshot wound to his head.
Some things you can never unsee.
I shower at Aaron’s in a trance. I sit down at his dining room table as he sets a bowl of soup in front of me.
“Not hungry.”
“I know. Eat anyway.”
“I want to go see Bryce.”
Aaron sits down across the table from me, a bowl of soup in hand. He takes a bite. “As soon as you eat your soup, we’ll go see Bryce.”
Mom busts through Aaron’s front door, my dad following.
“Oh my God!” She covers her mouth as she sees her boys sitting at the table. Running to me first, she throws her arms around me. Kisses my head. “How’s Bryce?”
My dad walks to Aaron, putting a hand on his shoulder, kissing the top of his head.
“Just telling Ethan, as soon as he eats some soup, we’ll go to Portland.” Aaron nods.
My mom doesn’t push the subject. Probably because she knows that those who are taken to Portland are taken for more serious injuries.
I take a few bites of soup. My mom and dad sit at the table with us.
“We’ll drive you.” My mom slides her hand across the table and touches my arm.
I know my parents have questions.
Who the hell is this guy?
Why would there be a psychopath in our little town of Granite Harbor?
What does Bryce have to do with this?
My brother flips on the television to break the silence in his kitchen.
“A small town where a crime rate doesn’t exist and a town curfew isn’t needed.” It was a quiet evening in the town of Granite Harbor just a few hours ago. Just like every evening, the town shuts down, closing its doors for the day. The reporter from Augusta stands in front of crime scene tape. The house on Magnolia Road sits within the tape. “One person is confirmed dead, up this hill behind this particular house. Brian, we will keep you up-to-date as we receive more information. Back to you in the studio.”
Dad says, “Boy, this will cause a political ruckus.”
I look at him. “How do you know who it is?”
Dad looks to Mom, eyebrows raised.
“What?” she says. Rolls her eyes. Looks to Aaron and me. “Rick found out from someone on the scene. He told Todd down at the hardware store. Todd told his wife, Nancy. Nancy told Ruthie at the post office, and now, the whole town knows.”
“And everybody has kept it a secret from the media?” I ask, both dumbfounded and partly proud of our community.
“What’s that Las Vegas commercial, Bill? Do something in Vegas, and it stays?” She thinks. “No, that’s not it.”
My dad chuckles to himself. “That might be it.”
Aaron gives me a what face. “Seriously?” Aaron says and looks between Mom and Dad and me.
If I could smile, I would.
“What happens in Vegas stays i
n Vegas,” Aaron corrects.
“That’s it!” Mom says. “What—now, what were we talking about?”
This reminds me of old times. Before the war. Before I left. It also reminds me of what Aaron did on the mountain before things got out of hand. Someone who knows me better than I know myself, and I him. Someone I pushed away when I got home. He doesn’t know what it’s like. I hid behind the fact that I’m a different man now. I allowed our experiences to get between us out of fear. Again, pushing people away.
I’ve erected these walls around me. It’s time they come down. It’s time my family has the old Ethan back.
My family has continued the conversation, and I return back to the present moment. See, they’ve grown accustomed to losing me in conversations. Made sacrifices.
I also realize now that it’s my brother who knows me best.
When we heard the gunshot up on the hill, I took off running. It was Aaron’s chest that I met, and his arms came around me like we were playing high school football all over again.
“You can’t do this, Ethan,” he told me. “You’re running on pure emotion. You’re not thinking with a level head. I will take care of her. You got me?” He pulled away, still hanging on to me though. “Do you understand?”
I stared straight into his eyes and gave him a half-nod. My heart pulsed against my chest.
“Once Eli and I reach them, you’ll stay back. Let me do the talking. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
Aaron shook his head, a not-good-enough shake. “I need a yes from you, Ethan.”
Anger shot through my body. Thinking of Bryce hurt, I uncontrollably nodded my head. “Yeah.”
“Good. Follow me.”
“Hey,” I whisper as I pull up a chair next to her bed.
“Hey, yourself.” Her voice is groggy, probably due to the pain medication.
“How are you holding up?” I want to reach out and touch her hand with the IV, but I don’t. Instead, I lay my hand next to hers.
“I’ve been better.” She coughs, holding her stomach, wincing. Her leg is bandaged and up in a sling of sorts, which is attached to a contraption that hangs from the ceiling.
“Sore?”
“Just a flesh wound.” Bryce’s eyes are still bright as she looks at me and tries to smile.
Machines beep at their own pace.
I had it planned out, what I was going to say to her. But, now, everything has left my head as I look at her.
“Look, Warden Casey, if you came here to break my heart again, let’s get it over with already.”
I reach out and push a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “When Blue died, I started to build the walls. As I got older and people left or died, the walls became bigger. When I went to war, I built a fortress around my heart. But the ugly truth about that is, I wasn’t building the walls to protect you or anyone else. I built them to protect me. And, as much as I’d like to say it was me protecting you or me protecting them, it really comes down to me and my selfishness.” I pause. “See, I didn’t give you a chance to love me. Or give us a chance to start because I ended it before it began.”
I look over to Bryce, and tears roll down her face.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “It’s just the pain medication.” She smiles and dries her eyes.
I laugh and then feel completely overwhelmed by her beauty, her wit. I shake my head. “No woman ever deserves to be talked to the way I talked to you that night. Ever. I was stuck. My back was against the wall, and I wasn’t sure where to turn. While I’d like to hide behind the facts of the matter, the truth is, I can’t. You deserve so much more, Bryce. I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here to love you for the rest of our lives. If you’ll have me.”
Tears fall from her eyes. “Stupid, stupid pain medication.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I take her porcelain face with red-stained cheeks in my hands.
“I’d like to kiss you right now if that’s all right with you?”
She nods.
I stand, lean in, and gently push my mouth to hers.
It’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced.
Nothing. Not in the times we’ve kissed before. Nothing.
Her hands come around the sides of my neck as I ease down next to her on the bed.
I kiss her and see my brokenness.
I kiss her and see today, tomorrow, and the rest of our days together.
I kiss her and see how perfect two imperfect people are together.
I kiss her and see vivid images of color.
The truth is, I am at my best when I’m with Bryce.
She is love.
My love.
She opens her mouth and invites me in. I feel it.
“No, no. We can’t do this here.” I stop.
But I come back for one more kiss—this time, gently opening her mouth with my tongue. I get a taste.
Slowly, I pull away but linger near her lips, my eyes closed.
“Let’s be clear, Warden Casey; I can do this. It might get awkward, maybe even a little ugly, but I can do this.”
I laugh, and my head falls on the same pillow hers rests on. “I don’t doubt you for a second, Bryce. Not for a second.” I stare at her as she stares at me.
“Now what?”
“Well, first of all, we get your leg healed. Then, we’ll spend copious amounts of time in bed, so I can show you just how much I love you. And then we’ll go from there.”
“Bryce?” A man walks into the room. A man who makes me question my own charm, good looks. He’s tall with dark auburn hair. Clean-cut, clean-shaven, carrying two coffees. “Stopped and got some coffee.” His eyes meet mine.
“R-Ryker?” Bryce says.
Thirty-Three
Bryce
My head is still not completely in focus with the pain medication, but it is enough to realize that my brother, Ryker—clean-shaven, clean-cut—is here. My sweet baby brother who’s been through hell and back is here to look after his older sister.
“I’m going to give you guys some time,” Ethan says, kissing me on the cheek. He stands at eye-level with Ryker.
“You must be Ethan Casey, Granite Harbor’s golden military man. Several military awards. And the most hot dogs eaten at the Fall Festival for several years in a row now.” He hands me the coffee, not Bryce. “Figured you might need this.”
There Ryker goes, winning Ethan over. I roll my eyes and want to cry at the same time.
The boy I knew who was in there, waiting to get out. The boy who doesn’t have poison running through his veins, and he’s not his first thought, middle thought, and last thought, is here.
Ryker leans over and kisses me on the head.
“Brother.”
“Thank you, Ryker,” Ethan says. He looks at me. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Ryker sits where Ethan sat.
The hospital machines do their work. Some quietly beep. Others just sit. There’s silence between my brother and me as he sits next to me like we are kids again. I want this moment to stay, remain in my thoughts, and I want this memory—the feelings of goodness, wholeness—to wrap me up so that I can remember how this feels when the bitter pill of addiction returns and robs him, me, of time. My beautiful, handsome brother, the one I knew from years ago, is back. How long will he stay? I’m praying for forever. But, with addiction, it’s just a game of seconds, of inches. It comes down to how badly you want it.
“Remember when we were kids and you fought Jacob Burges because he stole my lunch money?”
I nod. Smile. “Yeah.”
“Remember when you told Tiffany Stallman that she could eat a bag of dicks when she broke my heart in the seventh grade?”
I roll my eyes. “Not my finest moment, but yes.”
“Remember when you used to bring dinners to me down on Skid Row because you were concerned I hadn’t eaten?”
I nod, trying to swallow my tears.
“Remember when you showed up at the h
ospital after I overdosed the first time and yelled at my drug dealer for dealing me drugs?”
I laugh only a little. I do remember.
“My drug addiction isn’t my drug dealer’s fault. You and Mom tried to pick up the pieces for so long, and when you stopped trying, I started to get closer to my bottom. I began to see fragments, missing pieces in my life. Like, why do I have to eat out of a dumpster to get dinner? Why do I sleep on the soiled ground next to a woman I don’t know? Why don’t I go to work or drive a car or have a place to live?” He stops talking for a moment. “About two months ago, I was sick. Tired. I wandered into the Midnight Mission. Heard of it?”
“No.” I rest my head on my brother’s shoulder as he tells the story.
“It was really late. I’m not sure what time. And I remember thinking, I don’t even have a watch to tell me what time it is. Anyway, when I wandered in, I bumped into an old guy who was on his way out. He took me into his office and gave me some water. He began to tell me that I didn’t have to ever use again if I didn’t want to. That I didn’t have to keep running. He shared his story of hopelessness with me. I couldn’t believe that this well-kept, old, white-haired man had lived the way I lived. He began to talk about hope.” He chuckles to himself. “You know, I rehearsed this on the plane over and over in my head, praying it’d come out right. It feels like a fucked up mess.”
I put my hand on his arm. “It makes perfect sense. Tell me more.” I keep my hand on his arm.
“A moment of clarity came when I saw you drive away the last time. We were in a predicament with Sandra and her son, Landon. I knew right then that, if I didn’t make a change in my life, I’d go on living this useless life and die right where I started. Another moment of clarity came when Mom caught me shooting up in her bathroom. It wasn’t that she caught me; it was her reaction when I jumped, and blood poured from my arm. It was her trying to help me with it. She wasn’t pissed that I’d done this in her house. She just wanted to help me. And I knew, in that moment, that Mom would buffer my disease, make excuses for me for as long as I needed.”
The machines I’m attached to brew their secret recipe to assist my body.
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