Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,115

You have this shield. You think you’re supposed to be a certain way. It comes with being the oldest. But it doesn’t always have to be like that.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He reached over and put a hand on top of mine. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. Just… can I give you a piece of advice?”

I turned my hand over and wrapped my fingers around his wrist, his pulse strong against my thumb. “Sure.”

Robbie said, “Trust him. And yourself. It’ll all work out in the end. And when it does, when you see him for what he truly is, it’s going to be the greatest feeling in the world. Kelly, he… he makes me better. He makes me whole. I love him because of all that he is and all that he isn’t. And like Gordo, you deserve this. I think we all do. And one day, when blood no longer needs to be spilled and we can just breathe, we’ll see why we’ve had to fight for so long. We’ll be together.”

I let his hand go. I stood from the booth. “Up,” I said, wiggling my fingers at him. “Come on, up.”

He got up.

I hugged him.

He grunted in surprise, but his arms were strong around me. I put my chin on the top of his head, and I felt him laughing against my throat. “Thanks, Carter.”

I heard the click of a camera shutter and looked over to see Dominique lowering her phone. She grinned at us, shaking her head. “Boys,” she said. “Silly, lovely boys.”

WHEN WE FOUND THEM IN THE GARAGE, Gavin and Gordo were studying an engine block held up by chains.

Gordo was saying, “—and that’s how Grandad said it. Said you have to love it. Said you have to be kind. It’ll piss you off, but if you give it patience, it’ll reward you. It just takes time.”

Gavin nodded. He had a bit of oil on the tip of his nose. “Patience,” he said. Then, “Gordo?”

“Yeah?”

“Grandad. He my grandad too?”

“Yeah. I suppose he was. Good man. Taught me all I know about cars. He died, when I was little. Before you were even born.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve got some pictures back at the house. Maybe you could come over sometime and I can show them to you.”

“I’ve been to your house.”

“You have,” Gordo said. “You pissed in my kitchen. You remember?”

Gavin shrugged. “Nope.”

“Really? Because that was a lot of piss that I had to—oh, fuck you, man. You’re yanking my chain, aren’t you.”

Gavin laughed. “Yeah. Yanking your chain. So much piss.”

Gordo glanced back at us. “You hear this motherfucker? Jesus Christ. Robbie, come here. You need to hear this too. Don’t touch anything, though. I don’t need something else catching fire.”

Robbie went.

I leaned back against the wall and watched the three of them as the afternoon went on. Every now and then, Gavin would glance back at me, as if to make sure I was still there.

white willow/die squirrel die

My mother said, “Tell me. About where you went. What you did.”

We were sitting in the clearing. The full moon was only a couple of days away. The others spread out in a loose circle, watching as Chris and Tanner sparred, claws out, fangs bared. Their blows landed heavy, but they were laughing, even when they began to bleed. Jessie paced around them, barking orders, telling them to straighten their stance, to stay light on their feet. Gavin was watching too, standing between Ox and Joe, bouncing on his feet like he was itching to get in on the action. I shook my head at the sight of him.

I looked over at Mom. We were on a blanket. She had a thermos of hot tea she made me drink from, as if she thought I would die of thirst. Kelly told me she was going to smother me for a little while. I needed it. “It was mostly quiet,” I told her as I turned back to the others. “Long stretches of days and weeks when nothing happened.”

“My wandering boy,” she said. “What did you see?”

I said, “Good things. Bad things. People and their never-ending rage. Roads that seemed to go on and on and on.”

She said, “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let it drag on.”

“Mom?”

She smiled sadly. “About Gavin. I thought… I thought it was yours to figure out. And I knew you’d get there one day. But the longer it went, I… don’t know. I worried. And there were so many things to