Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)


“How are you possibly bigger!” Elsie says with a laugh as I throw her tiny body over my shoulder with no effort.

“I’m not. You’ve just started shrinking in your old age,” I tease, grabbing her bag with my free hand and carrying her toward the porch like a sack of potatoes.

She starts playing the bongos on my back with her hands. “Okay, seriously, Ben. Put me down.”

“Or what?”

There’s a long pause as her impish mind searches for something she has on me. She’s a lot like me in that regard. “Or I’ll tell this girlfriend of yours that you used to pretend you were Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing and you memorized all the dance moves.”

“Reese has got way worse material on me than that.” I drop her suitcase and swing her down off my shoulder to take in her cute face. She looks so much like a younger version of Mama—but with long, curly chestnut hair—that it’s crazy. “And she’s not my girlfriend, Elsie.”

“That’s not what Mom says.” She laughs at me as I roll my eyes and shake my head. I think I’m the only one of us that still calls her Mama. Reese is right. I do milk the youngest child thing for all it’s worth.

Elsie’s smile falters as her eyes dart to the barn. “It’s so weird to be back here, Ben. It’s been so long. Everything looks the same but it’s not anymore, is it?” She was already in college when my dad’s accident happened. We talked on the phone a lot after but she never came back. Of all of us, my sister has been gone from here the longest. She flew in to Miami to see me after my knee injury five years ago, when I was high on Percocet and hostility over a future lost. Aside from a trip out West to visit her three years ago, I haven’t seen her in person since.

“How is she doing?” I know they’ve stayed close, even though Elsie has refused to come out here. But still, not seeing your mom face to face for almost five years is crazy.

Before I can answer, the front door creaks open. We turn to see Mama step out, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s been in the kitchen all day. Whatever she’s making, it involves a lot of flour because she’s got white powder all over her cheeks and her chin.

That doesn’t dissuade Elsie from taking off immediately, running like a little kid into Mama’s outstretched arms, the sound of their cries filling the late afternoon air.



How’s Warner?



I lie back in bed, watching the screen on my phone, expecting Reese to be asleep but hoping that she’s not. Since Mama’s “experiment” with Hayley, I’ve pulled my phone out a dozen times to check in with Reese for . . . nothing, really. Just to say hi, to make her laugh, to have her make me laugh. But I could never decide what to say. Normally, I don’t know when to shut up.

The indicator changes to “read,” making my stomach do a flip. Fuck . . . I’m acting like a chick.

A few seconds later:

The law bot came looking for you in my office this morning. I’ve buried her body under your desk. You’ll have to clean that up when you get back.



My snort cuts into the quiet room.

Tell Mason. He’s better at cleaning than I am.



How is it up there?



Women are throwing themselves at me. You better get here quick.



I wait and wait and . . . it says “read,” but there’s no answer coming. I’m expecting some snide remark, calling me a pig or something. But the longer I wait, the more I’m starting to think that was a boneheaded thing to say. I do wish she’d just drop everything and race up tonight, but now she probably thinks I’m up here screwing girls.

Does she care, though?

I hesitate for just a second and then type out:

The funeral’s on Friday. Mama wants you to come.



I wait. She’s read it.

Still no answer.

“Fuck!”

I guess that came out a little too loud, because there’s a knock on my door a moment later. “You’re not doing anything gross in my old room, are you?” Elsie asks.

“I wish!” I holler back.

“Are you decent? Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” I make sure my sheets are covering the vitals as the door creaks open and my sister walks in.

“What’s wrong?” Elsie always seemed to like being smack dab in the middle of four brothers. Josh and Rob harassed the guys at school for looking at their “cute little sister,” but then she’d turn around and do the same for Jake and me, playing the protective sister. The funny thing is, in the end all four of us were protecting her. She was in the middle of a big Morris sandwich, with brothers chasing off assholes from all angles.

“Ah, nothing. I’m just an idiot.”

Crawling onto the bed, she falls back to share my pillow. “Who are you texting?”

“Reese.”

“Ah yes. The friend who visits your mother with you on weekends and spends the night in the same bed.”

I shrug. “This is me we’re talking about, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “How could I forget? All of my senior friends were asking me to hook them up with my dorky freshman brother.”

“I wasn’t so dorky to them, was I? How’s Shelley Armstrong, by the way? You still talk to her?” Shelley was Elsie’s hot best friend in high school.

There’s a pause and then, “That wasn’t a rumor?”

I feel the wide grin stretch across my face. “At Butcher’s party after the homecoming game. It earned me legendary status with the guys pretty quick.”

“She lied to me!” Elsie punches me in the arm. “You’re lucky I love you so much, you pig.”

“Funny. That’s what Reese calls me. You two would probably get along well.”

I feel her eyes on me. “Is she the reason you turned down Miss Florida today?”

“What?” I feel my brow pinch.

“Hayley Parker? She won the state beauty pageant last year.”

“Seriously? . . . Huh.” Picturing those legs, I mumble. “Not surprised. She definitely wasn’t looking to solve world peace out there today, though—I can tell you that much.”

Elsie snorts. “I couldn’t believe it when Mom told me you were back within five minutes of her sending Hayley out. That sealed the deal in her eyes. Her little Benjamin’s in love,” she croons.

“That didn’t mean anything,” I deny, though everyone under this roof seems to know I’m lying. “Hell, I just lost my father yesterday. I’m just not in the mood.”

She barks out with laughter, sounding a lot like me. “Oh, bullshit! Do you remember when Cheechee died?”

“Of course I do! Man, I loved that dog. He was the best.” I still remember the way my stomach hit the ground as I was rounding the bend in the road, closing out a five-mile run, and found his broken, still body lying on the shoulder. He had been hit by a car.

“Exactly. You carried that dog all the way up the driveway in your arms, bawling your eyes out.”

“We all cried. Even Josh!” Our oldest brother was never big on showing emotion.

“But you sure weren’t crying later that night at that party, when I found you in the back of some girl’s car with her head in your lap.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh yeah. She was consoling me. You should have seen the look on your face.” That was the problem with all of us being so close in age. We went to a lot of the same parties and knew all the same people.

Elsie rolls her eyes. “Well, then don’t tell me you would have had a problem getting into the mood with a beauty queen when a man you hate is finally dead.”

It’s a somber reminder of why she’s here, stifling our laughter.

“And what would Mama have done if I had gone for it?”

Elsie starts giggling. “She said she was going to drive out in the dune buggy and beat your ass if you weren’t back within half an hour.”

Just the image of a fifty-one-year-old Mama racing around in that thing has me bursting out with laughter again.

Nudging in closer, Elsie asks softly, “So, tell me about her. What’s she like?”

I heave a sigh. “I don’t know . . .” I smile. “She’s funny. She has me laughing all the time, even at work when I want to slit my wrists with all the files I’m buried under. And she’s smart. Way smarter than me. I told her she should go to law school. She’ll ace all her classes if she doesn’t piss her profs off too bad. She’s really talented, too. Man, you should hear her sing. She has this incredible deep, raspy voice that—”

“I don’t believe it,” Elsie cuts in, turning to look hard at me, her eyes twinkling. “It’s true! My little baby brother’s finally stuck on a girl.”

Oh, Christ. I close my eyes. “Now you’re starting with me?”

Her head bumps up against mine. “Well, you didn’t lead with ‘she’s hot.’ ”

“Well, that’s a given. I was just trying to spare you. You want to hear how hot she is? Fine! She’s got this round, tight ass that I just want to—”

“Ugh, Ben!” Elsie punches my bicep with one of her bony knuckles. It doesn’t hurt but I stop anyway, grinning at her until she starts laughing, curling up next to me again.

There’s another long pause. “Darrin and I broke up. Did Mom tell you that?”

I can hear the sadness in her voice. “No. But I heard her saying something about it to Dad . . . Are you okay?”

She shrugs. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I loved him so much, Ben. And we were so happy most of the time, except for when we weren’t and it was my fault. I couldn’t trust him. I had no reason not to and yet there I was, constantly checking his emails and his phone, accusing him every time he came home late.”

“Of course you couldn’t. Look at what you grew up seeing.”

“That’s just Mom and Dad, not everyone.”

“To a kid who sees that day in, day out, it can be everything.”

“I guess.” She sighs. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why Mom didn’t boot his ass out years ago. We all would have been better off. I mean, look at Josh. It’s like he tumbled right out of the mold. Did you know he was seeing that other woman for two months before Karen found out? Thank God she dumped his ass. He deserved it.”

“At least he’s trying to get help for the drinking,” I offer half-heartedly.

She sits up slowly. “The rest of us aren’t much better. Rita wants Jake to propose now that she’s pregnant, and he won’t. I’m a suspicious freak.” She throws a casual hand my way. “And look at you.”

“Look at me, what? Hey, I haven’t lied or cheated on anyone. I’ve made zero commitments.”

“Yeah.” She turns to look at me, the moonlight highlighting the sadness on her face. “And you’re going to miss out on all the wonderful things that come with committing. Just think how nice it would be to have one person that you trust so completely.” More matter-of-factly, she states, “Reese was here on Sunday. She saw it all. She’s a part of this, whether you like it or not. You should ask her to come up for Friday.”

I hold up my phone. “I did. No response and I know she’s read it. Maybe she doesn’t want to come. I wouldn’t blame her. It’s a funeral, Elsie. Not a party.”

“What’d you say to her?” Elsie frowns as I let my phone fall into her hand. Scanning the text message, she groans and then flicks me in the ear. “You’re such a dumbass.” Tossing the phone at my chest, she stands and walks toward the door, shaking her head. “Tell her you barely noticed the girl and that you want her to come. Good night.” The door closes softly behind her.

And I’m left staring at my phone, wondering if Reese is already asleep. Listening to my big sis, I quickly type out:

I didn’t screw around with anyone and I want you to come to the funeral. Please.



And I wait.





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