BREN
“I want to see her!”
A strangled sounding yell woke us up the next morning. Cross flipped over in bed, his feet hitting the floor a second later. He grabbed pants and then he was up, flying out the door, and I could hear him running down the stairs. My guess, he was taking three steps at once and then bam. He was on the main floor. The fact he wasn’t trying to be quiet spoke to how worried he was, but I could’ve told him not to be.
I recognized that yell.
I would’ve recognized that yell any day, any time, anywhere.
My dad was here.
And then, like a bad déjà vu moment, I heard my brother’s voice responding right back. His was low and muffled, but it was there, and even up here, even with a concussion, I knew he was pissed. This had been my life for so many years until Channing mo
