Page 59 of Caged Bird

All I could think about was crossing the room, hauling her into my arms, and kissing that sweet mouth of hers.

My gaze plastered itself to her lips, tracing over every delicate curve, and memorizing the pretty pink color.

She cleared her throat and mouthed a single word.Go.

She was right, I couldn’t just stand there staring at her when I was trying to prove to my brother that I was on his side all along. That my loyalty lay with him.

Not with the woman who’d owned my heart for half my life.

I left before I did something stupid. Like actually dropping my mouth down on hers and letting my hands slide around her waist.

She darted a panicked look toward the living room, and that was enough to get me moving. I let the back door close behind me, leaving Fawn behind.

For hours, I threw myself into the work of getting the backyard presentable. I got Mom and Otis filling a bag full of the loose trash that was kicking around in the breeze. Old beer cans and cigarette butts were everywhere from past parties. Either Eddie didn’t let Fawn outside to clean, or her chains hadn’t reached this far. I fought off the stirring anger inside me that reared its head every time I thought about her locked up the way I had been. I could still feel the cold metal around my ankles, the rough edges pricking at my skin. I never wanted to be in those things again.

But it made me wonder exactly how many times Fawn had been.

I needed to get her out of here. To get all of us out of here, and I was sure the key to doing that was somehow related to the things I’d realized about my brother.

I just didn’t know how it all fit together yet.

I methodically cleaned my way across the large yard, eyeing the toolshed with grimy windows that was as far from the house as you could get without actually being in the surrounding woods. There was a lot of junk all piled up around the crude dwelling, and the remains of what had maybe once been a chicken coop.

It was an eyesore, but it wouldn’t take long for me to fix it. Maybe I could talk Eddie into getting some chickens. I remembered the conversation I’d had with Mom the morning Eddie had called and demanded I come pick him up from the hospital. She’d been talking about the chicken coop they’d had once, when she was a kid. If I could spin the story somehow so it benefited Eddie, then maybe he’d get some. As long as I didn’t mention I wanted them for Mom, or because I thought Otis and Fawn might like them, then it was possible he’d agree.

Fawn had told me how she’d gone days without eating while Eddie had been in the hospital, and if something happened to me, I wanted to know she’d at least always have food.

I circled the perimeter, eyeing it from every angle and nudging aside an old wagon that had definitely seen better days.

“What’s that, Uncle Zane?” Otis tilted his head, peering at the wagon with interest.

Mom picked her way through the long grass behind him, following her grandson and his curiosity.

I frowned at them. “You two were supposed to be picking up trash.”

Otis screwed up his nose. “But that’s so yuck. My hands are all sticky.”

I nodded. “Stale beer will do that. Why don’t you see if there’s any gloves in the shed? I’m going to need some tools out of there as well, if I’m going to fix this coop.”

Otis ran around me and to the shed, flicking up the lock on the door. “Can we get some tools to fix the wagon too?”

I squinted at it. “I don’t know, kiddo. Looks like it needs to go on the trash heap to me.”

Mom’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t throw out the old red wagon! It’s a family heirloom!” She ran a finger along the scuffed wooden edge, the paint flaking off beneath her touch. “I used to pull you boys around in it when you were small.”

I frowned at her. “What do you mean? Not this wagon?”

Mom nodded, pointing to the side, where a faded EJS was painted on the side. “Eddie’s initials. Your father built it with him when he was a bit older than Otis.” She peered up at me. “You don’t remember it at all?”

I shook my head. But it only reinforced the realization I’d had about Eddie. “I can’t believe he kept it all these years. Or that I never saw it until now. Where did we keep it at our place in Saint View? Was it in the attic or something?”

Mom shook her head. “No, it’s always been out here.”

Her words clicked over in my brain. “Wait, what do you mean it’s always been out here?”

She stared at the old wooden wagon wistfully. Like it had unlocked memories from another lifetime. “Your dad and Eddie built it one week when we stayed out here so he could teach Eddie how to shoot.”

I gawked at her. “You’ve been to this house before?”

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