Page 94 of Heart & Hope

“Nothin’.”

He settles on the log beside me and leans back, lifting his blue eyes to the sky. “You know, the change I have seen in you since you and Ruby took on Harry is impressive, gunny.”

I huff a laugh. “Maybe.”

“You don’t think so? I know Ruby does.”

“Ruby is?—”

“I know. She’s really somethin’, that girl. Pity she’s headin’ back to the city when it’s all done and dusted. You’ll have your holiday ranch; she’ll have her big career. It’s almost perfect, little brother.”

His words are playful, a little taunting. But he’s right, and I hate him for it. I hang my head, clasping my hands as they dangle between my legs. “Yeah, almost.”

“Reed, tell the girl how you feel. You’ll be kickin’ yourself later if you don’t.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

I groan and rub my hands down my face. “I was a first-class idiot about what I said to Hudson when he and Addy were in this situation. Should have kept my fuckin’ mouth shut.”

“Possibly. But you were fighting for him and Addy—he saw that. You’re more Harry than you know what to do with, little brother.”

“And now, I am acutely aware of why he wouldn’t ask her to stay. How could I do that to Rubes, after all she has worked for? Everything she’s done for me.”

Mack slaps a hand on my back and rises to let me past the fire. “Go on, you head into the warm, I’ll take this one. Can’t sleep much these days, anyhow.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

We never ask Mack about his work. Ma can’t, and we don’t. Like some unspoken family code essential for survival.

“How ’bout I keep you company for a little longer?” I offer.

“Suit yourself, but one of us should sleep.”

He plonks down on the log again, wrapping his coat tighter around his body. For all the horrible things my brother has seen and lived through, he is the most grounded of us all. At least, that’s my take. He plucks a snow-covered stick from the ground and pokes at the fire. Embers rise and sparkle before burning out in the cold air.

The only sounds are those of the night birds and soft scurries of whatever is up and about between the trees at this hour.

Mack sighs, and I slide my focus from the flickering flames to his face. It’s unreadable, as usual. “What’s got your cogs turnin’, Mackie?”

“Nothin’.”

I raise a brow, and he smiles half-heartedly. “Tallied up the days I have left, is all.”

I swallow at the sudden thickness that has closed my throat over. Mack leaving for a tour is always a bad day. Every time he leaves, it feels like a gamble. One I don’t want anything to do with but can’t escape.

“How many?” I ask, not ready to hear the answer, each syllable way too heavy.

“Eleven days left.” He pokes at the fire, like it deserves his wrath, like it is responsible for his leavin’.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“When you gonna give that shit up?”

“I like my job, gunny. And I’m not seeing no city girl turnin’ up to save me.”

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