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"I'm not leaving you here with him," I murmured.
Uncle Curtis sighed, patted my hand, and stood up. "Then I guess you'll just have to stay a bit, son. You'll see that boy’s no threat to me. You’ll see a whole lot of things you weren't expecting."
As Uncle Curtis went to get the pie from the oven, I glanced at the stairs. He was up there. We would be sleeping on the same floor, just rooms apart. Possibly even next to each other. The thought should frighten me, considering his earlier attack. But the tension in my belly didn't have anything to do with fear.
It took just a few minutes for my uncle to return to the table with two large servings of pie in hand. The warm pie was covered in ice cream. It was just like Del had always served it. I took a bite and nodded my head. "He'd be proud, Uncle Curtis," I said with a smile as the warm pie and cold ice cream melted in my mouth. I expected Uncle Curtis to smile at my comment, but instead he just looked sad and I wanted to kick myself for reminding him of the friend he'd lost.
"Yeah," Uncle Curtis murmured. "He would be."
We ate in silence for a minute before Uncle Curtis said between bites, "You got any more questions for me, son?"
"Just one. Since apparently Mom and I weren't fooling anyone, will you let me take a look at your books?"
Uncle Curtis laughed and said, "You just remember that you are the one who asked." He winked at me and took a big bite of pie. I didn't know what his words of warning meant, but I did know one thing.
For the first time since crossing the Eden town line, I was glad to be back.
Chapter 4
Xavier
Hearing the knock on the door caught my attention, even from where I stood on the balcony overlooking the vegetable garden Curtis’s mother had so lovingly maintained over the years. Curtis was the one who tended to the fruitful plants now, and it wasn’t uncommon for us to have the vegetables every night as part of supper during the growing season. This room itself had once belonged to Curtis, but he’d insisted on giving it to me when he’d discovered my little problem with enclosed spaces.
Though it wasn’t right to call it a little problem. Especially considering how he’d figured it all out. I didn't want to think about that particular night and still had to deal with the knocking on the door. In my gut, I knew who it was.
"Xavier?"
I sighed at the sound of Brooks’s voice. I really wasn’t ready for round two with him. I reluctantly went back into the room and saw Brooks standing awkwardly in the open doorway.
"It was open," he said as he motioned to the door.
I didn't say anything because what was I supposed to say? It wasn’t like I was going to explain to him why it was open.
Brooks shifted awkwardly on his feet, which was more typical of the Brooks I’d once known. My eyes drifted to the bruises on his neck, and I felt that shame roll through my belly once again. I’d spent the past hour thinking about what I’d done to him in the driveway… thinking about how I’d changed.
Despite my father being a cruel bully who’d often used his fists rather than his words when he had something to say, I'd never wanted to resort to violence to make a point. In fact, I’d gone out of my way to be his complete opposite. I’d learned from men like Curtis and his father when I'd been a kid how horses were supposed to be treated. But it had been more than that.
They’d shown me how people were supposed to be treated.
Curtis and his father had often held clinics for people from all over Wyoming and across the country to learn about their unique skill set, showing how they broke horses with kindness and trust and patience rather than the old way of climbing onto an animal’s back and holding out until the poor thing was too tired to protest its new master. I'd never been able to afford any of the clinics, but Curtis had let me attend them for free after I'd asked him about working off the cost of the clinics when I'd been a child.
Participating in anything the Sterling family did had been something I’d had to keep to myself when I’d been a teenager, because my father had been fired by Curtis for abusing the horses he’d been charged to care for. My father had gone on to work for the Cunninghams from the day Brooks’s father had bought the ranch. James Cunningham had liked the rough hands my father had used to master horses and the men had gotten along well.
