The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

13

"Really?"

Emmaline nodded, "Though only heaven knows the exact cause with that boy."

"What do I do?"

"I'm guessing you confronted him last night like you said you would?"

Wren nodded.

Emmaline smiled. "And how'd that go?"

Vivid memories of her passion-filled night with Declan flashed within Wren's mind as heat crept up her chest to her hairline.

"I see," Emmaline murmured with a warm grin curling her lips.

Clearing her throat, Wren smiled in return as she whispered, "Well, I asked if I'd done or said somethin' to make him avoid me like I was some hideous beast, and he reminded me he was a jackass—which I'd forgotten—"

"That's a first for him—"

"He said the same thing," Wren giggled, then quietly continued, "told me he hadn't intended on hurtin' m'feelin's... though he admitted it was bound to happen again—"

"And he's correct," Emmaline quietly said, her eyes filled with compassion.

Setting her bowl of batter on the counter, Wren sighed. "But I think he meant it when he said he'd try to be more aware of m'feelin's in the future."

"He told you that?"

Wren forced a swallow and nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me you were gonna be frying up bacon this morning, Mama?" Wolstan asked, sniffing the air with a dramatic sigh as he and Mae walked into the kitchen ahead of Emerson. "Mae and I wouldn't have slept so long."

Emmaline squeezed Wren's shoulder and kissed her left cheek as she whispered, "We'll talk about this more later, honey." Then walking around her, she greeted Emerson with a kiss and grinned at her son, "I did tell you about the bacon, but you said you and Mae were gonna be busy with your morning drawings."

Wolstan turned to Mae, his brow puckering in a comical frown, "I don't recall—"

"Drawing sure is much noisier nowadays than I remember it being when we were their age, Linney," Emerson chuckled.

Wolstan choked on a laugh, and Mae flushed bright red.

Emmaline grinned as she arched a brow and murmured, "Moving furniture?"

"Mm-hmm," Emerson nodded, snaking an arm around her waist and hugging her to his side. "I'd say at least that big ol' dresser and steamer trunk by the amount of grunting—"

Wren burst out laughing, no longer able to contain her amusement at remembering Eldon's confusion and comments about the furniture in her room. "I have to tell you what Eldon said this mornin'," she gaspingly giggled, then allowed the words to tumble free, painting a vivid picture so that by the time Declan and Eldon entered several moments later, they found the four of them doubled over in hysterics with tears cascading down their faces, and nothing was ready for breakfast except a plate of cold bacon.

Once he'd finished eating, Declan mumbled an excuse to his family before pressing a quick kiss to Wren's lips, set his dirty dishes in the sink, then wasted no time grabbing his hat and gun belt, saddling Sweetface and escaping to join the ranch hands out tending the herd.

Keeping his mount to a plodding walk, Declan took a deep gulp of the crisp autumn air until oxygen filled his lungs to capacity, held it, then slowly exhaled when his chest started to burn as he tried to calm the anxiety coiling in a tight knot and making breathing an agonizing feat.

He wasn't even sure what he was panicking over and made a quick mental list in a vain attempt to make the sensation disappear. His family was safe and provided for, they had food on their table, a roof over their head, and they were happy—joyful even—the laughter filling the big house this morning was proof of that.