AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PROLOGUE
Itwasmeanttobe a day of celebration.
“We opening a bottle, or what?” That was Duke North, Chuck’s younger brother. He was never satisfied without a slug of something strong and smoky in his glass.
“We could. Chuck, I take it you’re still not drinking?” Trent asked. Trent was the eldest, and in some ways, the wisest. He was about as different from firebrand Duke as you could get — a scientist, more interested in statistics and facts than passion and thrills.
“None for me.” Chuck tried to speak with an even voice, fighting to keep distaste from his tone.
Of course I’m not drinking. After what it did to Mom, I’m never letting another drop past my lips.
“Aw, come on, Chucky,” Duke said, his lopsided grin distorting the shape of the tattoos on his neck. “Have a drink. It’s not for me — it’s for Dad.”
As his brother said those words, Chuck was taken back instantly to a time before his father’s death. It had been his dad’s birthday. He remembered his father’s charismatic face, so similar to Duke’s.
“If I ever die,” his father, Dwight, had said, “emphasis on theif, of course. I intend to live forever.“ Chuck remembered the chuckles around the room. “IfI ever die, I want all you scoundrels to drink for me. Remember the good times. My triumphs.“ His father had shot a glance over at Chuck’s mom, Martha. “My loves.” He’d paused. “And of course, my mistakes.” More chuckles around the room.” I want you all to get together and celebrate my life. No misery. No sadness. You keep on living for me, keep on making mistakes for me.”
They’d promised.
And then, everything had gone to shit.
Dad had only been gone for four years, but what a four years it had been.
For a moment, Chuck considered the bottle of Jack that Trent was in the process of unscrewing. It’s what his father would have wanted.
But when did his parents ever get what they wanted?
“Nope. I’m good.”
The three North brothers were in the ranch house at Littlecreek Ranch. This had been their home for over a decade, but they’d been solely responsible for the place for just three years.
And in those three years, they’d managed to transform it into a pigsty.
It was incredible, really. Three grown men, each of them capable and smart in their own way, incapable of keeping the place neat and tidy. The truth is though that they were perfectly capable, or would have been if it weren’t for the grief.
Grief for one parent was one thing. But for both? It was an almost impossible burden. And being here, in the ranch, it was like they were trapped in the past, trapped in their grief, forever.
Still, what a place to be trapped. Dwight had always had a bold vision for the Ranch. He’d wanted it to be the most beautiful, comfortable ranch in America, with the grandest ranch house and most expansive grounds.
Everything had been designed and built to the strictest of plans. The house was made to a traditional ranch house plan, all on one story, and was made using traditional materials. Logs, natural fibers, iron, and clay. It was large and spacious, and had a bunch of extra rooms, like the one the boys were in now.
The bar. They’d spent plenty of time in here as a family over the years, and non-family ranch employees had also been welcome to socialize here after a hard day’s work. Back in the day, there had been a roaring fire, a wide selection of liquors, pool tables, dart boards, the works.
Today, though, it was a shell of its former self. Most of the bottles of booze behind the bar were empty, covered in dust and cobwebs. The dart boards were missing chunks of cork and numbers. Some of the stools were upended and one of the bar tables was cracked down the middle. Each of the cracks and chips was a direct result of the North brothers.
Chuck looked around. There was the scuff mark from when Duke — in a haze of drunken self-confidence — had tried to run up the wall to do a backflip. There was the smashed-up pool table that had resulted from Trent tossing Duke through the air after he’d called him a “fucking emotionless robot.”
Scars of misery and stupidity were everywhere Chuck looked.
“Duke’s right,” Trent said, pouring a generous measure of bourbon for himself and Duke. “We should be celebrating.”
“I understand that. But after what happened to Mom, booze… doesn’t agree with me.”
More flashbacks. His mom’s body: cold, pale, motionless. He’d been the one to find her. His brothers would never understand that, never know what he’d been through.
She’d only lived a year after Dad had died. Dwight had been everything to her, and without him, she’d drunk more and more, until eventually, drink was all she was.
Duke lifted his glass. “Dad, you were my hero. All I ever wanted was to be like you.”
