Page 1 of We're One

Prologue

Zach

Sitting on the old, weathered couch in the den, our favorite room in the huge ranch house, my brothers, Blaze and Callan, and I watch the Seahawks destroy the Patriots in the second half. With an ice-cold beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, I’m feeling pretty good.

Since both brothers have become besotted with their women, I don’t see them as much as I’d like to these days. These rare evenings together are priceless even if I know why they’re both here now. I can overlook the reason, and even hope they get sidetracked. It’s only been a few weeks since Callan finished his journey with the mystery box and I know I can’t get out of this, but I’ve put it off for as long as possible. I don’t know why it terrifies me so much. I fear nothing... except this damn journey I’m meant to go on.

When the quarterback throws a perfect spiral downfield, Blaze lets out a whoop and jumps up. Callan quickly follows, nearly spilling his beer. I lean back with a grin. I wish we could do this every Sunday. It feels like we’re all back in high school, together without a care in the world as laughter fills the room that’s always brought us comfort.

“Did you see that throw?” Blaze shouts as he drops back to the couch and pats me hard on the shoulder. “Tom Brady couldn’t have done it better.”

“I could’ve done it better,” Blaze says with a cocky grin.

Callan laughs. “You couldn’t throw like that if your life depended on it.”

I let out a snort. “Remember that time Blaze tried to show off his spiral during a family barbecue? He hit the table and knocked over the cook’s perfect casserole. Then he ran like hell ’cause he knew he’d get his ears boxed,” I say with a laugh.

Blaze punches me hard in the arm. This time, it hurts, but I don’t flinch. “I’ve said it many times; I slipped. That throw wasn’t my fault.”

We throw a few more insults at each other before Callan rises. He moves over to the desk where the dreaded, aged box is sitting all alone now. I’ve been waiting for this moment to come, but was very much hoping my brothers would get so involved in the football game they’d forget for another week. No such luck.

“You know what time it is,” Callan says with a smirk. I refuse to let out the shudder passing through me.

“We’re in the middle of the game,” I say.

“Nope. You don’t get out of this, not after both Cal and I have done our journeys,” Blaze quickly says as he mutes the television. This is a big deal during a football game. Nothing should interrupt football. It’s like church for us.

“I don’t know why I’m dreading this so much. It all worked out for you guys,” I say as I accept the box. I can’t pretend any longer that the thing doesn’t exist. It’s time. For some strange reason Gramps, or some mystery woman, wanted us to do these journeys alone.

“Because there’s meaning to each of these boxes, and we all tried to avoid it. Like you said, though, it’s been worth it. I think you’ll enjoy your journey,” Blaze says. This is something, coming from our thrill-seeking brother. He’s never been one to play by the rules but he did like his journey. I know Callan had a good time too, although neither of them are willing to give too much detail. This drives me crazy. I’m the most organized of us all, and I can’t stand mystery.

I take a moment before I slowly cut open the top of the box, waiting a couple of seconds before opening the flaps and looking inside. I sit for a moment, confused, before reaching inside to pull out a small model of the ranch house we’re currently sitting inside.

I set it on the table and my brothers and I gaze at the painstakingly crafted tiny wooden beams and miniature windows. The detail is stunning. Only someone who knew this ranch house well was able to put this small model together.

“What is this?” Blaze asks.

I shake my head. “Not sure yet,” I reply.

“Obviously it’s a house,” Callan says with a chuckle. I roll my eyes.

I pull out the envelope in the bottom of the box. There’s no script on the outside of the letter. I hesitate before opening it. Is it from some stranger at the lake from many years ago? Or is this from Gramps? I don’t know. My brothers lean in as I open the flap and pull out a single piece of paper with typed words on it. I begin reading out loud.

“Zach, you’re one who always has a plan. You’re the one who achieves his goals. You’re also the one who doesn’t want to stray too far from the path. Your challenge is to take something old and make it new. This ranch, this sanctuary, this home, now belongs to a new generation. You’ll find what you seek in the strangest of places both familiar and new by completing your task.” I pause.

“Is that all?” Blaze asks.

“Of course not,” I say as I shake my head.

“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” Callan insists.

“You’re to remake the entire ranch house. You’ll use Sia Rivers as your designer. At the end of your journey a clean slate is what will heal you all and give you the answers you so desperately want.” There’s no signature, no more instructions. The order has been given, and I’m expected to play along, just as my brothers did.

“Is it another matchmaking?” Blaze asks with a chuckle.

“I have a feeling this Sia isn’t an eighty-year-old woman,” Callan says.

“Yeah, I have the same feeling,” I say with another shake of my head.

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