Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “You want me to buy it? Now?” They’d spoken in the abstract of him taking over, but it had been clear that the current arrangement was on a trial basis. He had not really thought he would stay more than a year or two. The past week or two had made him think it would be an even shorter amount of time than that.

  “Not now. Just rent it for a bit, or we can split the profit like we do now, either way is fine. Take your time in deciding. I wouldn’t want you to rush into anything.” She looked as though she was finished speaking, but then spoke again. “I will say, if you do decide to buy it, I will sell it to you for less than I would ask someone else. I loved your grandparents, and I like you to pieces. I’d love to leave the clinic to someone like you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “SHHH! YOU’LL wake up the kids.” Travis hissed and glared at the offending keys. Placing a steadying hand on the doorjamb, he bent and swooped the fallen key ring off the garage steps. He slipped the keys into the pocket of his jeans before he could drop them again, then swung open the door and took the final step into the house.

  As ever, Dunkyn was there waiting for his return, bouncing his front paws off the floor in greeting, making himself look like a bounding sheep.

  Travis knelt and ruffled the dog’s head. “Shhh. Be quiet, Dunk.”

  He made it halfway into the living room before glancing back the way he’d come. He’d forgotten the case holding the ball and shoes in his truck. Fuck it. He’d get them in the morning. Without looking where he was going, he took another step and tripped over Dunkyn, who was traveling alongside him, as always.

  Travis managed to regain his balance without knocking over a lamp or careening into a wall. He glared down. “Goddammit, Dunkyn. Get the fuck outta the way.”

  Dunkyn lowered his head, and his floppy ears pulled back toward the rear of his head.

  “It’s not his fault you’ve had one too many beers.”

  Travis looked up to see Wendy standing with her hip resting against the kitchen counter. As she came into focus, he saw her arms crossed under her buxom chest.

  “Maybe more than one too many.”

  Travis had the awareness to not argue with the accusation. He walked toward her, doing his best to keep his voice low while simultaneously avoiding Dunkyn, who maintained a cautious place beside him. “Would you get a water, Wendy?”

  Even with her being slightly blurry, he couldn’t miss the cocked eyebrow.

  He pulled out his chair from under the kitchen table. “Please and thank you.”

  “How about I put on a pot of decaf too, while I’m at it.”

  “Thanks.” Now that he was sitting, his sister came into full focus, though the bright yellow of her skirt made him squint once more. “I’m not old enough you have to do decaf, though.”

  She laughed. At the warm sound, his shoulders drooped from their tensed position. “Like hell you aren’t. You’d be up till sunrise if I brewed the good stuff. You and I both.”

  “The kids asleep?”

  “No, I thought it would be a good idea for the twins to have an all-night slumber party. I’m sure their teacher would love that. Monday morning’s bad enough without having sleep-deprived first graders.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Of course they’re asleep. And Caleb went to bed about half an hour ago, but I bet he’s not quite drifted off yet if you wanna poke your head in.”

  Travis turned his attention toward the wall of windows framing the kitchen. He’d noticed snowflakes when he’d driven home. From the look of them sparkling under the light over the barn, it appeared they were going to have their first snow of the season. “No. I’ll let him be. I’ll see them before they go to school tomorrow.” He didn’t say he didn’t want Caleb to see him buzzed, but the thought hung there, clear enough; he was certain his sister could hear it too.

  Within a few minutes, during which the gently falling flakes turned into more of a blowing swirl, the sound of the steaming coffeemaker filled the whole space. After adding some clanking noises to the mix, Wendy slid a plate and fork in front of him. “Mason helped me make a cherry pie earlier this evening while Caleb took Avery to play outside with Dolan.” She pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, partially blocking his view of the end of fall. “We had chicken casserole for dinner, if you’d like some.”

  He shook his head and spoke with a mouthful of cherries. “No. Thank you. I think I probably had three hot dogs. Not sure how much pizza.”

  “Hmmm. And you’re still buzzed. You must have tied one on.” Somehow, she managed to keep her tone judgment-free. Almost. “Did y’all win?”

  Travis finally looked away from the window, grinning at her. “What do you mean, did we win? Old Bulldogs always wins.” Had they won? It worried him that he couldn’t remember any aspect of the final score. He had a clear image of packing away the bowling ball and shoes in the rear of the truck’s cab, so at least there wasn’t a complete blackout.

  The coffeepot beeped from across the kitchen. Wordlessly Wendy got up, allowing Travis to get lost to the pie and the snow already building up around the barn walls. After some clinking and soft noises, she returned with two large mugs steaming the air between them.

  Travis took a sip and sighed in contentment, even as the liquid burned the roof of his mouth. When he felt a hand slip over his own, he met his sister’s blue-eyed gaze.

  “I’m worried, Travis. You haven’t done this in a couple years. I haven’t been worried on bowling night in forever. You shouldn’t have been driving. You promised me. You promised Caleb. Jason should have brought you.”

  “He went home with Belinda. And I’m fine, Wendy. Quit stressing.” Travis focused on the remaining crust of his cherry pie. Guilt warred with anger. “Don’t blow things out of proportion.”

  Wendy lowered her voice so it was barely more than a whisper. “You cursed at Dunkyn. You never do that.”

  Guilt won. He looked down beside his chair. Dunkyn peered up at him in adoration, his ears falling back, making them look foxlike. Goddammit.

  Reaching down, he cupped the dog’s face in his large hand, rubbing his thumb against Dunkyn’s cheek like he would have one of the kids. Like he’d done to Shannon countless times. “Sorry, buddy.”

  “Wanna tell me about it, Travis?”

  He looked back up, returning his attention to Wendy. Already the pie and coffee were working their magic. She was completely clear. He hadn’t been that buzzed. Sure, probably enough that he shouldn’t have driven, but not trashed. Not like he used to get.

  Slippery slope, Bennett. Slippery slope.

  “I’m fine, Wendy. Really.”

  She nodded, long red curls bouncing, then stopped abruptly. “No. No, Travis. You’re not fine. You’ve been a mess ever since Wesley came for dinner, since you went to the barn. And I don’t know what happened earlier this week, but whatever it was messed you up even more. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. And you need to talk about it. If tonight is any indication, you need to talk about it sooner rather than later.”

  “Quit pushing, Wendy. I’m fine.”

  She leaned closer, her words firm but not unkind. “No. You’re not. Tell me about the barn.”

  He loved his sister, but damn, she drove him crazy sometimes. Always pushing, always wanting to talk. She was his sister, not his fucking wife. “You’re the one who pushed me to go to the fucking barn, Wendy. You’re the one who started this shit. Let. It. Go.”

  As she studied him, he nearly pushed away from the table and walked out of the room. He wanted to. He should. It was his damn house. It had just been a few beers. He hadn’t had too much to drink in years. She’d said it herself. Fuck her.

  Guilt again, shouting just a bit louder than his anger. For once.

  Yeah, fuck her. Fuck the one who held the family together, who was strong enough to kick your ass to make you start being a father to your kids again.

  Yeah, fuck her.

  “Are we finall
y going to talk about it? Really talk about it?”

  She sounded nervous. Wendy never sounded nervous. Travis looked at her, his heart pounding harder than if he’d drunk two pots of caffeine.

  She was nervous.

  They’d only touched on it once. Shannon had confided in Wendy after the miscarriage. She’d told him she was going to tell his sister. Wendy was her best friend, after all. Wendy had asked him if it was really true and then never asked anything about it again—until she’d hinted at it the other night.

  Until now.

  “What happened in the barn, Trav?”

  It was his house. He could just get up and leave. He could sleep in the barn.

  Fuck that! She could sleep in the barn if she was so goddamn curious about it.

  “I kissed him.” Travis’s voice cracked as he said him.

  To her credit, real or faked, Wendy didn’t let her expression change in the slightest. She waited to see if he said anything else.

  He didn’t.

  “Did he kiss you back?”

  Anger, again. “Like you don’t know. I guess you two are fucking best friends now too.”

  She didn’t respond to his anger. “We’ve only talked once since then, and it was strained. I didn’t ask. Wesley didn’t offer.”

  He flinched at the man’s name.

  Wendy’s hand, which had remained on his arm, slid down so she took Travis’s hand in her own. “Travis? Did Wesley kiss you back?”

  “Yeah.” Travis glanced back out the window, then looked Wendy straight in the eye once more. “And what the fuck does that prove?”

  She ignored the question. “Do you like him?”

  The anger was starting to grow, burning away any remaining buzz that might have been lingering. “I don’t even know the guy, Wendy. How could I like him? Not to mention he’s a guy!”

  “Are you worried what I’m going to think about that? If you like another guy? Or worried about what you’ll think about it?”

  He didn’t answer, only glared. Just what he needed, a psychology moment.

  “I doubt it’s your chief concern, but I’ll put it out there anyway. If you’re worried about what I’ll think about it, then don’t. I couldn’t care less. And I do know Wesley, and I like him. He’s pretty great. If you’re going to have feelings for someone, a girl or guy, you chose well.”

  For a second the anger vanished, and he almost told her about how Caleb had sounded when he’d been talking to Wesley. How the man had checked to make sure there was no traffic when he’d placed Dunkyn down in Simone’s parking lot—such a small thing. How gentle the vet had been as he operated on the dog.

  How he’d thought he was going to lose him when John Wallace had rushed toward him at the feedstore. Ridiculous, but still.

  “I’m not gay, Wendy.”

  She considered her words.

  He wanted to take the chance to run.

  “I didn’t ask that. I asked if you like him.”

  Travis’s teeth were clinched so tight his jaw popped. “I love Shannon.”

  Once more, his sister considered. As always, she cut to the chase. “Remember the night I sent you to the barn I told you I made Shannon promises too?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Can I tell you what one of them was?”

  Again Travis didn’t answer. He knew what it was. He hadn’t known Shannon had spoken to Wendy about the matter before she died, but he wasn’t surprised.

  “I promised her that—”

  “Don’t!” Travis pulled his hand out of her grasp. “That was between you and her. Respect that.”

  “I promised that I wouldn’t let you be stubborn. That I’d help you be brave. That I’d make sure—”

  The tears burned as they made their way down his cheeks. Dammit. He’d give anything to return to having lost that ability. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Caleb staring at the weak man who was his father.

  The hallway was dark. Empty.

  Travis turned back to Wendy. “I love her, Wendy. I will always love her. It doesn’t matter if Wesley is a guy or a girl or… whatever. I. Love. Shannon. Period.”

  “I know.” Tears were pouring down Wendy’s face, faster than those of her brother’s. “I know you do. And she knew it too. I bet she still does.”

  “Exactly. So that’s it. I love her. And that’s it. I’m done. It’s done.”

  Wendy shook her head. “That’s not it. You’re not done, and you know it. Because she loved you. She loves you, and you owe it to her.”

  Travis flinched. “I owe it to her? To kiss some fag in the barn? I owe that to her?” Even as he said it, he hated himself. He hated himself even more than he hated John Wallace. He might as well have been the one running, ready to bash in Wesley’s face.

  Wendy didn’t so much as grimace at his words. She only kept hold of his hand and followed through on the promises she’d made to her sister-in-law.

  “Yes. You owe it to her, Travis. You made her promises too.”

  THE HOUSE was silent at two in the morning. Despite the flood of emotions he’d brought home only a few hours ago, it was a peaceful silence. Travis had woken clearheaded and clear-eyed, even with less than three hours of sleep, even with the beers he might as well have ingested through an IV. Maybe Wendy and Mason’s pie was magic.

  Even with a clear head and eyes, Travis felt weighted down, as though his thick muscles were too heavy for his skeletal system to support. Still, he was clear enough that all his thoughts were too transparent, all the warring emotions sharp and loud in the void. Maybe the pie had been too magic.

  At least five beers were left in the fridge’s cooler drawer. Nothing else worked quite as effectively at blurring what life had become.

  He found it surprisingly easy to push the compulsion away, considering the turmoil. He would not send his children off to school with drunken, slurred I love yous. Not ever again. But he had to get out of the house and out of the bed where Shannon was not.

  The late-night wanderings weren’t new, but he couldn’t consume his usual medicine. He couldn’t talk to her, not the way he was at the moment. And she was under all that snow. He would need to warm her somehow. He would need to trade places.

  Any trepidation left over from Travis’s earlier scolding had vanished, and Dunkyn padded along noiselessly beside the man he loved, moving from door to door.

  Travis pulled the covers over Avery. She was a restless sleeper, had been ever since the day she’d come into the world, always twisting and turning, arms and legs flailing. Even as an infant, her dream-filled kicks had nearly been able to knock the air out of Travis as he’d napped with her. At the moment she was still, only the soft rumble of her snores breaking the silence. It had been one of Shannon’s favorite aspects of her daughter, often having to leave the room so her giggling wouldn’t wake the girl. Even in his current mood, Travis had a similar reaction. She looked so much like an actual princess as she slept. Catching the moonlight from the window, her strawberry blonde hair spread out in tangles over her pillow, and long lashes lay over her full cheeks. Beautiful. She was going to be nearly as gorgeous as her mother. But with that snoring, she’d fit in better in the barn than under her pink canopy bed.

  As in nearly everything else, Mason was the antithesis of his twin. Only the gentle rise and fall of blanket as he breathed hinted that the boy lived. Two night-lights, one on either side of the bed, watched over him. Of all his children, Travis worried the most about his youngest boy. While Caleb hurt the most over the loss of their mother, Mason was the one who seemed to have a core of sadness. Wendy insisted it was just a calm and loving nature. But there were moments when Travis would meet his son’s gaze and swear he was looking into the eyes of a man who’d lived a century or more and knew all too well the realities of life. The small boy was the one who felt everyone else’s emotions. At times he reminded Travis of Dunkyn, being able to sense what his father needed—steering clear when Travis felt he might ex
plode on the next person to cross his path, crawling into his lap and silently resting his head on Travis’s chest when Travis wasn’t certain if there was anything that could secure him to the life he’d been left with. It was only in moments like these, when Mason was free of those around him and all was still, that Travis acknowledged the fear that part of what set Mason apart was the very thing that had caused Travis’s own inner turmoil, though it seemed to be more present and identifiable in Mason.

  Travis and Dunkyn’s final stop was Caleb’s room. As he pushed open the door, a low, vicious growl emanated from the darkness. As soon as Travis and Dunkyn were visible in the doorway, Dolan’s warning broke off, a stupidly happy, tongue-lolling grin ripping across his face. The dog didn’t leave his post, though. Despite his constant need for attention, Dolan had never cuddled with Caleb—even as a puppy, he’d squirm free—but he always stayed within touching distance. Even now in sleep, the young teenager had one hand dropped over the side of the bed, the tips of his fingers in constant contact with his dog. Travis had noticed the physical changes that were starting to happen to his son a few weeks ago. Even with the shadows across Caleb’s face, the thickening blond down over his upper lip was visible. He would need to teach Caleb how to shave soon. He’d known it was coming. Caleb was actually a little late to the party, compared to the classmates Travis had seen. Caleb still appeared somewhat childlike, where so many of the other freshmen looked like they should be picking up chicks in bars. Pride and sadness comingled in Travis’s chest. His boy, his strong, animal-loving, mini-father-figure of a boy would soon be gone. Travis would check in on him in the middle of the night and find a man in his bed. Then, one day, there would be no one at all.

  Most of the time, it felt as though this life would continue forever—Shannon absent and three children to raise. However, he could feel the future sneaking up already. The twins would be tall and grown and then gone. Three lives out making their own way. Three parts of him and Shannon living, keeping their mother alive with every breath. As they left him, she would finally be gone, fully and completely out of his reach.