Page 68 of River & Rue

I’m tired. Can we talk later?

You have two minutes until I call Mom

FINE

Sighing out my annoyance, I shove to my feet and pull on my last pair of clean shorts.

Forty-five seconds later, I carefully close my front door behind me. Opting to avoid the porch steps, I swing over the side railing. My sneakers land silently on a patch of weeds. With a final glance at the empty porch, I head into the woods.

When the cabin is no longer in view, I stop and pull out my phone. As expected, Wilder answers on the first ring and doesn’t bother saying hello.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let’s see. At the top of today’s list is three hours of shitty sleep, but coming in strong at number two is my overbearing ass of a brother.”

“River. Talk to me.”

His gentle tone makes me stiffen.

“Fuck, man. We talked just a few days ago. I’ve already told you everything.”

“Not everything.”

My gut clenches harder.

The public knows my brother as a legendary musician, surly recluse, and sober addict of fifteen years. His friends know him as a devoted husband and father. But there’s another facet to Wilder’s character, one only his immediate family and closest friends know about.

In the six years since the birth of his twins, he’s become abnormally sensitive to those he loves. Including me.

In many ways, I’m grateful for his gift. Our seven-year age difference and his descent into addiction meant we weren’t close for most of our teens and twenties. Now, thanks in large part to his habit of calling or texting whenever anything significant happens in my life, I have the relationship with my brother I always wanted.

Until recently, that is. For the last few weeks, he’s been up my ass almost every day. According to him, my emotions have been screaming at him nonstop.

“Aren’t you sick of this?” I ask. “Talk to Granny. Maybe she can tell you how to turn it off.”

“I called her this morning after barely getting any sleep last night.”

Air evacuates my lungs. “Are you saying…” I trail off, the rest of the sentence too ludicrous to voice.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it was worse. At one point, I woke up convinced a coyote was eating our chickens. Another time, I smelled smoke and thought the kitchen was on fire. But the best one was when I sleepwalked outside and lay down half naked on the dirt at two in the fucking morning. I set off the house alarm. The kids were scared out of their minds. Eva couldn’t find me for twenty minutes. She—” He sighs. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing she loves me.”

I rub my forehead. “I can’t believe this is a real conversation.”

“Says the guy whose grandmother talks to dead people, whose sisters see auras, and who himself controls the weather.”

“I’ve told you a million times. I can’t control the weather, I just… feel it.”

“Ah, my bad. I guess you’re normal.”

“Funny. Can we focus? What did Granny say?”

He hesitates so long I make a preemptive decision to lean against a tree. Sure enough, a few seconds later, I’m glad for the support.

“Have I ever mentioned I’ve always sensed you the most? Out of everyone in my life?”

“What? No.”

Wilder takes a deep breath like he needs steadying too. “I don’t know if you remember this, but toward the end of my using, there was a week when I was sober. I came to the house for Granny’s birthday dinner.”