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Calmly, Carefully, Completely (The Reed Brothers 3)

Page 16

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He nods. It’s a slow up and down movement of his head. He doesn’t look at me or say anything.

“You don’t know what it’s like to know your brother’s going to die and there’s nothing you can f**king do to help him.” I force myself to unclench my fists again.

“No, I don’t,” he admits. “Did you do drugs, too? Or just deal them?”

I snort. “Paul would lay into me like nothing you ever saw if I even thought about doing drugs.”

“I think I like Paul,” he says. He finally looks at me and smiles. “It sounds like you have a pretty good support system for when you go home.” He rubs his hands together quickly. “Five more days!”

I smile. “Five days,” I repeat.

“Can I make a suggestion?” he says.

“Like I could stop you,” I mutter.

He grins. “True.” He pauses for a minute. “Don’t be afraid to make plans, Pete,” he says. “Make lots of plans. Because it’s only when you don’t have any plans that you’ll forget where you’re headed. Write them down. Make them real. Then go for them. Follow through.”

I nod. “Okay.” I look down at the tracking bracelet that’s on my ankle. “While we’re here, am I free? Can I walk around and go places by myself?”

He nods. “I’ll know where you are if I need to find you. But yes, you can consider yourself free.” He coughs into his closed fist. “Just be careful with Reagan,” he warns. He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “You’re twenty-one years old. And you’ve been in jail for two years. And I’m guessing you gave up your V card a long time ago.” He clears his throat. “Just remember that there’s more to it than the pleasure of the moment.”

Now I want to f**k with him. “Do tell, Dr. Phil.”

“Life’s not about the moments of pleasure you, yourself, can experience. It’s about the pleasurable moments you share with someone else that really matter.”

Shit. That was pretty profound. “Yes, sir,” I say.

“What happened to your dad, Pete?” he asks.

“He left after our mom died.”

“He missed out on something pretty f**king great with you, kid,” he says. “He could have stayed and experienced all those missed moments with you and your brothers, and his life would have been richer for it.”

“My life was fine.” I doubt it would have been different if he’d stayed. Paul would have still taken care of us. He always has.

“Moments of pleasure you can give to someone else,” he says, tapping his forehead. “Ask yourself before you do it who’s going to benefit.”

“Yes, sir.”

He points toward the big house. “Speaking of moments,” he says, grinning. “At this moment, someone is sneaking out to the barn.” He squeezes my knee as he gets up. “You’re welcome,” he says with a laugh as he walks away.

I look toward the barn and see a female form walking quickly toward the big building in the distance. I look around. The camp is quiet, and everyone is in bed. I watch her as she slides through an open door and closes it behind her.

I wonder if she could use some company.

Reagan

I try not to look toward the fire as I sneak out to the barn. I know Pete’s still sitting there, and he’s not alone. There are two males in profile, and I don’t know who the second one is. I pat my leg so that my Maggie will follow me. She’s old and can’t see as well as she once did, but I feel safe in the dark with her. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, and I love that about her. I don’t have to worry about anyone walking up behind me and me not knowing.

I step into the barn and close the door behind us. Maggie circles around me, her black-and-white coat in strict contrast with the muted colors of the barn. I jump toward her, and she dances back playfully. Even as old as she is, she can still run circles around me.

I step up to the stall door and lean over the cord that’s blocking the opening. I have a horse that’s due to foal any day now. Her name’s Tequila, and she’s my favorite of all my horses.

She’s not lying down or sweating yet, so I’m guessing it’s not going to be tonight that she foals. I duck under the rope that blocks her stall door and rub her gently behind her ears. She pushes her face into my hand, and I laugh.

Suddenly, Maggie stills beside me and the hair at the back of her neck stands straight up. A low growl erupts from her throat, and I stop petting Tequila and step closer to the horse. My heart begins to thud in my chest.

“Hello,” a voice calls. Maggie hunkers down, and her growl grows even more vicious. God, I love this dog. The shadow comes closer, and Maggie barks in warning. “Oh shit,” someone says, and the shadow moves back.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“It’s Pete,” the voice says.

My shoulders sink, and I force myself to take a deep breath. I don’t let go of Tequila’s halter, and I don’t come out from behind her. “You shouldn’t be in here,” I call.

“Well, I’ll be happy to leave if you’ll call off your beast,” he says. Maggie crouches and slinks forward, and the sounds that come from her throat are scaring even me. “Please,” he says. His voice quivers.

“Mags,” I snap. She turns and looks at me. I pat my leg, and she rushes to me. I pet her soft fur. “Good girl,” I croon. Maggie takes her cues from me, and she’s now wary but she doesn’t want to kill anybody.



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