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



Seeing the oldest Morris boy standing in the middle of the barn sets my hairs on end. It’s like bringing Joshua Morris Senior back to life and hitting rewind twenty years. Right down to the piercing, hard eyes.

“Hey,” I call out, holding my breath a little as I cross over the invisible barrier between the outside world and my father’s realm. I still don’t like being in here, even after a week of cleaning and airing the place out and changing all the lights. The dampness in the air with the approaching storm only makes the stench of wood thicker.

Josh turns to look at me, his face blank. Not only is he the spitting image of our dad, he also shares his demeanor. He was the quiet, serious one growing up. A bit of a recluse, preferring solitary hobbies like working on engines. He’s the one who taught me how to fix Granddaddy’s tractor.

“Hey, Ben,” he says somberly. After a pause, he steps forward and wraps his arms around my body, surprising me with a hug. Given our seven-year age difference and our polar opposite personalities, we’ve never been close. “I’m glad you were here when it happened.” Stepping away, he slides his hands into his back pockets, his eyes roaming the vaulted ceiling. “I forgot how big this barn is.”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I found hidden in here.” At least fifty empty bottles of whiskey tucked into various corners, along with countless packs of stale cigarettes—I didn’t even know Dad smoked—and some dirty magazines from the seventies—probably our granddaddy’s—that I shoved into Jake’s suitcase as a joke.

“I’ll bet,” he mutters to himself. “What do you think finally made him do it?”

“Mama was going to leave him.”

Josh turns to look at me, the shock on his face readable by anyone. “Really?”

“I heard it with my own two ears. She was done.” I hesitate, not sure if I want to admit the rest. “I heard him cry.”

Understanding flickers through Josh’s eyes as he turns back to the piece of black walnut that’s got Dad’s DNA in it. I had stood over it with a chainsaw earlier this week but couldn’t bring myself to cut it up. “I cried when Karen left me, even though I deserved it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t get it, Josh. You hated Dad for what he did to Mama—so much that you haven’t been here in eight fucking years!—and yet you turned around and did the same thing.”

“I know.” His cheek puffs out as his tongue pushes against the wall of his mouth. “I had it all and I threw it away. I wish I had a good reason, but I don’t.” He pauses. “I wonder, if Mom had kicked him out all those years ago, if maybe he would have gotten help . . . Maybe none of this—”

“I hear where you’re going with this and I don’t fucking like it one bit, Josh.” I feel my back getting stiff as I stand tall. “Don’t you ever try and lay blame on Mama. All she did was love that asshole too much.”

“I’m not blaming her, I’m just . . .” His voice drifts off as he walks a circle. “I’m doing this whole twelve-step thing right now and I’m supposed to say I’m sorry. I’ve got a whole lotta things to be sorry for. I’m sorry I haven’t been here to help. I’m sorry I turned my back on Mom.”

“You’re not the only one,” I remind him, my sudden flare of anger fading fast.

“Yeah, but I’m the oldest. And yet here you are, standing by Mama through it all, still saving the day.”

“Not always.” I give the black walnut a light kick.

“I’m surprised the idiot didn’t lose something sooner, the way he drank,” Josh mumbles as a rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. “You know, I always wished I was more like you. Even when you were just a kid and I was almost done with high school.” Kicking at a remnant chip of wood, a small smirk curls his mouth. “You were always so damn happy and easygoing. Everything rolled off your back. Everyone loved you. You were so different from him. Not like me.” He grits his teeth. “It took losing everything—my wife, my kids, my house—to see that.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he turns to look at me with grim determination. “I’m done being like him, Ben. I’m not going to live my life as if I was pre-programmed to be Joshua Morris Senior. I haven’t touched a drink in six months; I see my kids every chance I get. I take them places. I talk to them and laugh with them. I let them know that their father loves them. And Karen?” His head dips in submission. “I don’t know if she’ll ever give me another chance, but I’ll do whatever I can to change. I don’t want to be lying in a pool of my own vomit in twenty years because I didn’t live the life I could have. All of us need to take a good look at our lives. If there’s been anything about this man holding us back, now’s the time to let it go.”

I nod quietly as another low, long rumble fills the sky. “We should probably get inside. It’s gonna be a big one tonight.”

“Yep,” he agrees. We both turn and walk to the edge of the barn, standing side by side as we look out on the trees, the tendrils of Spanish moss swaying as the wind picks up and the rain begins to fall, first in random, heavy drops until, within ten seconds, the sky suddenly opens up and sheets of it start pouring down.

A single light crests over the hump in the driveway. Squinting, I mumble to myself, “Is that . . .?” My stomach does a giant flip as the Harley races up the driveway, its low rumble competing with the thunder above. Streaks of blond and purple poke out from beneath a helmet.

“Who’s that?” Josh asks.

I smile, my insides tightening up with excitement. “That’s mine, is what that is.” And right now, I mean it.

We move to the side as Reese keeps coming, not stopping until she pulls her bike right into the barn, her clothes drenched. I watch her pull her helmet off and brush the hair off that gorgeous face of hers. I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl so bad in my life.

Caramel eyes peer up at me with hesitation. “You know me and mornings. I just figured I’d be better off coming up here tonight.”

“And because you couldn’t handle being away from me for another night, of course,” I throw back, testing her.

When I see that hard swallow, the pink creeping into her cheeks as she averts her gaze to the ground in a very un-Reese move, I know I’m right.

And I’m damn happy about it.

Her attention flickers to Josh and she sticks a hand out. “Hi, I’m Reese.”

“You can do all that hello shit tomorrow.” I reach out and wrap my hands around her waist, hoisting her up and off the bike like a little kid.

And then I throw her over my shoulder and march out into the rain. I barely feel it.





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