Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
By the time we pulled into our driveway, I was in full-on Debbie Dooms Day mode.
He hated me.
He resented me.
My Ramsey was gone forever.
Insert a million other the-sky-is-falling references here.
“Nice place,” he mumbled to Nora when she opened the front door.
I trailed behind, not wanting to get too close, all the while wishing I could.
“I know. I picked it out.” She smiled. “Though Thea paid for it. So I guess she gets some of the credit.”
His back stiffened at the mention of my name, but he made no comment.
Nora hung her keys on the hook beside the door and set her purse on the table. Drawing in a deep breath, she walked into our den and swung her arms out to her sides. “Welcome home, big brother.”
An unlikely smile crept up my face as I imagined seeing our house for the first time through his eyes. Photos from throughout the years, including several of Ramsey, hung in a massive collage above our tan microfiber sectional. With white distressed end tables and a rustic wood coffee table, thrift store chic was our style of choice. It also happened to be our style of necessity. Penny by penny, I’d saved up the money for a hefty down payment on that three-bedroom, eighteen-hundred-square-foot ranch home. Nora had pitched in and gotten a credit card at a furniture store so we could buy couches. After a solid hour of begging us not to go, my dad told me we could take the bedroom furniture and then offered to rent the U-Haul for us.
He’d disappeared to his room for the rest of the night after that. I’d felt horrible leaving him all alone like that, but if Nora and I wanted a life, we needed to get out of Clovert. It was impossible to heal in the place that had broken you. The new house was only twenty minutes away and we both still commuted back for work, but having our own little safe haven did wonders for our emotional wellbeing.
I was proud of that house. Proud of us for what we’d made of our lives. And now I was proud to give a little piece of it to Ramsey too.
My voice shook as I chanced asking, “You…um…want to see your room?”
He didn’t answer, but when Nora started walking toward the hall, he followed without argument.
“You’re gonna love it,” she said as she opened the last door on the right. “Thea’s decoratively challenged, so I picked out everything.”
She walked in first, and it took several beats before Ramsey entered the bedroom. I silently lamented the fact that I was behind them and unable to see his reaction. We’d spent almost every day for the last week getting that room ready.
A midnight-blue comforter covered the king-size platform bed. Pillows—at least eight of them—were stacked at the top, waiting for someone to dive into the middle. There was a faux mahogany dresser on the opposite wall and two cherry nightstands on either side of the bed. Nothing matched. We’d changed the knobs to make it look like that was the purpose. We—well, Nora—had gone for minimalistic with the rest with hopes that Ramsey would want to put his own touches on his new space. But there was one single framed photo of the three of us that hung on the wall. The picture was my contribution to his room.
On and off, depending on what stage of grief I was experiencing at the time, that picture had hung in my room for over twelve years. In it, Nora and I were laughing. I have no memory of what was so funny, but Ramsey was in the middle of us, his shaggy, brown hair hanging over his forehead, his eyes bright, and his smile so wide that it almost looked photoshopped.
That was how I’d chosen to remember him—happy and carefree.
And now I hoped it would help him remember too.
“Is this the master?” he asked, roaming around the room, before dumping his garbage bag of belongings in the corner.
“Yep,” Nora answered. “We drew straws to see who was going to be forced to share the hall bathroom with you, but Thea forgot to cut a short one, so we both won.” She walked over and flipped on the light to the adjoining bathroom. “So now you get your own.”
That wasn’t exactly how it had happened. After he’d spent so much of his life in a six-by-eight cell, giving Ramsey the master was the obvious choice. Nora and I hadn’t even discussed it before calling my dad to help us lug all my crap across the hall. My bed wouldn’t fit in the small room we’d been using as a home office, so I left the king for Ramsey and downgraded to a double.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he rumbled. “I’m not gonna be here long anyway.”