Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
She would stay and watch, but bloodbaths had a way of splattering during the kill.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
Ginny took the box from Gavin that Silas had sent him upstairs to give her. She had to yell down asking for one when she heard Silas say he needed to go check on the generators with the storm coming in during the middle of night.
Holding back her laughter, she gave Gavin a commiserating look. “Yes, you did. But don’t feel bad. We were raised knowing how good he is, and he would sucker us in every time.”
Her hand trembled when Gavin sat down on her bed. The box was between them, but she took to heart that he hadn’t sat on the other twin bed.
“I used to think I was good, but he left me in the dust. The first hands, I thought it was just being out of practice. I hadn’t played since—” Gavin broke off, staring down at what she was storing in the box.
“Since you were kidnapped?” she softly finished for him.
“Even before that, I hadn’t played for almost a year. The last game I played was in the club in Ohio.”
Ginny reverently wrapped a Cabbage Patch doll in tissue paper. “You remember your last game? You must have lost a lot of money to remember the time and place.”
“The money isn’t why I remember it. It was the last time the brothers were together, having a good time … until Rider and I got into an argument.”
Placing the doll into the box, Ginny picked up a children’s Bible with the pages dipped in fake gold. She smoothed her fingers over the worn leather instead of looking at Gavin. “What makes hur—” Ginny stopped to correct herself, to delicately probe, afraid of Gavin shutting down. “What made you remember it the most? Because it was the last time you spent with them having a good time or fighting with Rider?”
Gavin picked up a small trophy. “The fight.”
“What was the fight about?”
“Taylor. Rider called her a tag chaser.”
Ginny frowned. “Rider had to be mad at you for him to say that.”
Gavin looked up from his perusal of the trophy. “Why?”
“Because you don’t insult someone’s fiancé without a reason.” Ginny shrugged. “At least in Kentucky, we don’t.”
“Memphis started an argument when he lost … it boiled over into Rider and I arguing.”
“Now I understand why you remember.” Ginny sighed. “You regret arguing with Rider.”
“I hit him.” Gavin laid the trophy down to pick up a wooden stewer stick that had different colors of construction paper glued to the top. “What’s this?”
Ginny took the stick from him. Placing the stick between her hands, she started rubbing her palms. “A rainbow spinner.”
Gavin took the stick back, mimicking her motions. “Cute.” Setting the spinner down, he picked up a Rubik’s cube and began to change the mixed-up colors.
Ginny kept sorting through the remnants of her childhood.
“The day I had to go live with someone else after Freddy and Leah died, I told Silas that I hated him. I’ll never forget the look on his face.” Blindly, Ginny stared down into the memory-filled box. “I could have come home any time after I turned eighteen, but I didn’t. I think I still wanted to hurt him, and it was easier to blame Silas than admit how badly I hurt him. He tried to talk to me in town; I told him I was busy and left.”
“How did you start talking again?”
“When I finally accepted Silas had nothing to apologize for. I was holding in how bad I felt about the way I acted, and I was blaming him for not making me feel better. Kind of screwy, right?” Lifting her eyes, she saw Gavin watching her. “The last time I came here to see them, all I had to do was walk through the door, and it was like I had never left.”
“So, you forgave Silas?”
“I forgave myself.” Ginny rose from the bed to go to a wooden chest of drawers, picking up the little iron farm animals. None had dust on them. Silas had kept the contents clean, as if waiting for her to come back. Tears clogged her throat at the time she had wasted. Moving back to the bed, one by one, she wrapped them in tissue paper before storing them in a shoe box.
“Why are you boxing your things?”
“These aren’t mine; they’re Leah’s. Silas asked me to. He wants me to have them.”
“You’re leaving her star chart hanging up?”
“That stays.”
Gavin rose from the bed. “Did Silas mention the charts are wrong?”
Ginny turned from the box to see Gavin leaning over Leah’s bed to get a better view of her chart. “What do you mean?”
“The ones I saw in Silas’s room had two different constellations. He said they were star charts of the night he and your father were born. Leah’s is right, as it only has one.” Moving back to her bed, Gavin went to the chart hanging over her bed. “Yours is wrong, like theirs.”