Page 36 of Savage Heart

I check my phone, and the family thread has been busy.

Charlie: You guys are rock stars. Thank you.

Grady: It was a good day.

Cameron: Speak for yourself. I feel old before my time. Is this what having kids feels like?

Billie: No, you’re just old.

Me: Pardon me if I can’t respond. I’m in a fucking bunk bed right now.

Charlie: LOL. Sorry, Mav. The visual is hilarious though.

Me: Glad you can laugh at my pain.

Cameron: I guess I can’t complain.

Grady: But you’ll find a way, won’t you

Cameron: What are you implying? You weren’t loving the million questions all day long, from what I can tell

Grady: It’s true. My ears are ringing. These kids don’t have a soft volume, do they?

Billie: You love it, just admit it. Send a selfie, Maverick. Please, please.

Me: No way in hell.

Charlie: Love you, Mavvie

Me:

Charlie: I love you alllll

Billie: Love you guys

Grady: Love you

Cameron: Love you

Me: Yeah, yeah

Charlie: You know you love us

“Lights out,” I say, not too stern, not too soft.

They try. I’ll give them that. It lasts maybe thirty seconds.

Someone snorts a laugh. Someone else shushes too loudly. A bed creaks as a kid turns over, springs protesting.

Fuck me.

They talk about horses first—who fed which one, which mare was funny, which gelding almost stepped on someone’s foot. Then it shifts to tomorrow. Breakfast. The river. Whether we’ll let them ride bareback.

Linc is sprawled on the top bunk across from me, one arm dangling down. He laughs at something one of the other boys says, and it hits me square in the chest. Too damn close to memories I keep locked up for a reason.

“Settle,” I murmur.

They quiet, but not completely.