“That I was Butch Cassidy.”
Colt pauses. “I swear he’s a psychic. I didn’t know your call name.”
“No, I kept it under wraps because you and Cole would make my life hell if you knew that was what they called me in the CAF,” I said wryly.
“You know what’s terrifying?” he asks, but his chuckle tells me I was right to keep the name under wraps.
“What?”
“Callan’s smart as fuck and Tee’s smarter.” He whistles. “Don’t envy you, bro.”
“Thanks,” I mock. “I have to go. Break a leg with teaching Canada how to ranch.”
“Gee, you’re too kind.”
Still, I’m grinning when I put the phone down.
Brothers come in handy sometimes.
Letters
Cody,
Ooooh, you’ve done it now. Prepare for a DISSERTATION-LENGTH LETTER, you asshole.
“I’ve always aspired to be nothing like my father, but after how I treated you, a part of me wonders if we’re cut from the same cloth.”
You are NOTHING like Clyde. Do you understand me?
Yes, you were a jerk, but men usually ARE.
You’re just a man. That’s all. Jesus, you’re not a murderer. (And being a soldier doesn’t count. Clyde did it for shits and giggles. You did it because it was your duty. Which, okay, sounds bad, but we let soldiers kill people. It’s normal. [Man, that’s even stranger. But you know what I’m talking about.])
And I’m so annoyed that you’re making me defend you! AAGH.
Onto the next part:
“I guess I’m writing a letter you may never see because after talking to you this morning, I’m desperate.
I need to get my feelings out somehow and I’m at a loss, so this is my solution.
I missed you.
I missed you so fucking much.
You wouldn’t know that though because why would you?
All you know is that I cut ties.”
I’m going to call you a jerk again. Prepare to read that a lot because I can call you a jerk, but you can’t call yourself one. Got me?
You missed me.
YOU missed ME?!
Yeah, bet your ass that’s all I know—you cut ties like a coward and you’re not a coward. Because, see above, you’re nothing like your father.
If I had a cup of coffee, I’d throw it at you.