Calmly, Carefully, Completely (The Reed Brothers 3)

I stop at the top of the stairs and listen. “They were awfully close there by the fire,” Mom says. “I was watching out the window.” There’s a quiet pause. “Did she let him touch her?”

“No, but she touched him.” He heaves a sigh. “She didn’t even try to punch him in the throat.”

Fine. I can be a little aggressive. It all started after my attack with some self-defense classes. Then I realized I’m really good at martial arts. I can’t help if it some people make me want to drop-kick them.

“That’s a start,” Mom hums.

I shake my head. I’m not starting anything. He’s just a man that doesn’t make me want to run in the other direction. That’s all he is. He’s nothing more than that.

It’s strange, because if I judged him based solely on his appearance, I’d be running away as fast as I could.

“He’s a good kid, it looks like,” Dad says on a heavy sigh. “He made a stupid mistake.”

“He’s kind of hot with all the tattoos,” Mom says. She giggles, and I hear my dad growl. She shrieks, and I walk away. They don’t need an audience for that part.

I stop by Lincoln’s room on the way to mine and knock on his doorframe. “Enter,” he calls, even though the door is open. He’s sitting on his floor stacking blocks to make a tower. But Link’s towers are not like other towers. They are complicated works of art based on numerical theories and stuff I don’t understand.

“You have fun at camp today?” I ask. We were only there for setup, and camp won’t truly begin until tomorrow, but he got to walk around and look at the people he’ll see in the morning. I step into his room and sit gingerly on the edge of a chair.

He nods. He looks in my direction, but he doesn’t make eye contact. He doesn’t look people in the eye often. When he does, it’s usually a mistake. And often ends in a meltdown.

“Did you meet any nice boys?”

He nods again. He only talks when he wants to.

“I love you,” I say. He looks up, almost meeting my gaze. Instead, his eyes dart toward my ear.

“I love you, too,” he says quietly.

Pete

The fire is hot against my legs, making them itch. I scratch, the sting of my fingernails easing some of the discomfort. I have been sitting here since she left, and it’s been a little while. For a few minutes there I thought she might come back. Hell, it’s probably entirely in my head; she’s not interested in me. I look at the big house where she lives. It’s f**king perfect. White picket fence. Acres of land. Rolling pastures. A regular Anne of Green Gables. I didn’t read the book. I watched the PBS series when my mom was watching it. It came on after Sesame Street. There was nothing else to do but sit with her and watch it. My brothers gave me a hard time about it, but I didn’t care.

The log I’m sitting on shakes as someone sits down beside me. My heart leaps until I realize it’s just Phil. He runs a hand through his too-long hair and groans. “How’s it going, Pete?” he asks.

The fire is just embers now. It’s still hot, but it’s not flaming. “Going okay.”

“You did a good job tonight.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“The camp actually starts tomorrow.” He looks at me. “You ready?”

“I guess.” I shrug and kick at a rock with my toe.

“Did I see you talking with Bob?”

I look up. “Who’s that?”

He points toward the big house. “Bob Caster. The owner of the farm.”

“Oh, yeah.” I’ve never heard him called Bob. “He caught me talking to Reagan.” I smile. Just the thought of her makes me grin, and I haven’t laid a finger on her.

Phil whistles. “Better be careful. I’ve seen him take down boys a lot bigger than you.”

I snort. I can’t see that happening.

“You remind me of him when he was younger. He was a big, scary kid with a whole lot of attitude.”

“You’ve known him that long?”

“Twenty-five years ago, he was you.” He nods when I look at him.

“Me?”

“Straight out of prison, full of piss and vinegar, and ready for a fight. He had an attitude bigger than anybody’s I ever met.” He laughs. “I was his parole officer.”

“Wow,” I say. “What did he do to end up in prison?”

He shrugs. “Stupid mistake, just like yours.”

“And I don’t have an attitude,” I correct. I’ve behaved myself pretty well. My brothers will kick my ass if I’m disrespectful. Particularly Paul.

“You have a real talent with kids. Particularly special needs kids. You ever consider social work? You could help a lot of people.”

I’ve never really given it any thought. I’ve been afraid to plan a future for fear that something or someone would step in my path before I could start walking. “I don’t know,” I hedge.

“Think about it. You have time.” He pauses for moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. “What are your plans after this?” he asks.

I shrug. “Maybe college. I don’t know.” I got my GED behind bars, but college is expensive and we don’t have much money. “I work with my brothers at the tattoo shop.” I look up at the big house. A light just came on in an upstairs window. I wonder if it’s Reagan’s room. Phil smiles when he sees the direction of my gaze. “What’s going on with Reagan?” he asks.