Dream Keeper (Dream Team 4)

I stared into his eyes and my head moved in a distracted nod even if I didn’t want him to close the door.

Not because I didn’t want to be alone with him in my bedroom behind a closed door (though, there was that).

But because, intuitively, I knew I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

I feared it, so much that finger of cold had spread across my skin.

And so, when he gave my hands a squeeze and let go, I shivered.

He walked to the door, closed it, and came right back to me, taking up my hands again and holding them, warm and firm in both of his.

“Auggie, this is scaring me,” I warned.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out how to share this with you since I started learning things about Birch and none of them were good.”

My fingers tightened around his and I leaned slightly toward him, not losing contact with his gaze.

“Your brother didn’t break from your family and keep his shit together to build a good life, like you did,” he began.

“Wh-what’s he been doing?” I stammered.

He gave my hands a squeeze and said, “Well, starting with the least bad stuff…”

Oh no!

“He’s been married three times, and divorced three times, and he has five kids by four different women.”

I felt my mouth drop open.

That was the least bad stuff?

I mean, Birch had been girl crazy, but I didn’t think a lot about it, because at the time, I was boy crazy. Thus, I thought, what was good for the goose…

“And, well…fuck,” Auggie bit off.

“What?” I asked.

He moved his head to the left like he was stretching out some tension before he straightened it and stated, “He’s done some time.”

Oh my God.

“Like…jail time?” I asked.

Auggie nodded.

My hold on him tightened. “For what?”

He hesitated and then shared, “Depends on which stint.”

Which…stint?

Auggie continued, “But it started with a class four grand larceny charge, which, probably because it was his first offense, only bought him a year.”

Only bought him a year?

A year in prison?

He hesitated (again).

I braced (more).

“And his last stint was for domestic violence assault.”

I tore my hands from his as I took a step away, lifting one up to cover my mouth.

I did this so I wouldn’t shout.

Or scream.

“How much do you wanna know?” Auggie queried, his words now quick and no-nonsense.

I pried my hand from my mouth, hugged my body with both arms, and croaked, “All.”

Still quick and no-nonsense, he counted it down.

“The larceny charge was because he stole from an employer. Printers. Computers. Toner. Things of value, and lots of them, that he could sell that were easy to clear out in a hit he did at night when the office was closed.”

Why on earth would Birch do that?

“Is he on drugs?” I asked.

“No,” Auggie answered.

“Was he on drugs?”

“There was no mention of dope and no sign he has or had a problem with it in my searches.”

“So he just stole to…steal?”

“I don’t know why he did it, sweetheart.”

Oh God.

“He later took an automobile,” Auggie went on.

Oh God!

“I say ‘took’ because he returned it,” Auggie said. “It was his girlfriend’s. Or his ex-girlfriend’s. Actually, one of his baby momma’s.”

“Oh God,” I whispered, moving slowly until I knew my bed was there, and then I sat and the absurdly large weave of my chunky-knit throw that was folded over at the end of my bed poofed up all around my hips.

“Maybe I should stop,” Auggie offered.

“No.” I shook my head, not wanting it, but knowing I had to have it and wanting it to be over. “Keep going.”

“Pepper—”

“Please, keep going, Auggie.”

He studied me a beat.

And then he said, “The theft of the car he contends was a misunderstanding. But since his relationship with her went downhill after she found out she was the other woman…the pregnant other woman…and he was married at the time, it’s unlikely that was the case. That said, they eventually got back together and made another baby.”

“So he’s Corbin,” I said dully.

“Say again?”

I gave him the negative headshake, lifted a hand and rolled it at him to request he continue.

Regrettably, he did that.

“The domestic violence charge was levied on him by his last wife.”

I dropped my head.

My big brother was a wife beater.

My God.

My awesome older brother beat his wife.

“Pepper.” His usually smooth voice scratched over my name and that made me shiver too.

And then I felt him.

I lifted my head and saw he’d squatted in front of me, thighs splayed.

“Should we stop?” he asked.

“Is there more?”

“Yes.” I must have made a face because he continued, “Not big shit. Bar fights. He went into business with someone and it went sour. He had some landlords that weren’t his biggest fans, primarily because he didn’t like to pay rent, and could be destructive. And that’s it.”

That wasn’t it.

That was a lot.

“So he left and went completely off the rails,” I remarked.