Page 126 of Chaos has a Name
When he was gone, Ethan touched the painting.
“What do you think he’d want me to do?” he asked, curiously.
Callen lifted a brow.
He wasn’t sure what Ethan was asking.
“About?”
He was to the point.
“That no one has replaced the Shaman here. They are waiting for someone to do it,” he admitted, and that someone was him.
Timothy had always wanted him to take over as Shaman.
He told him it was in his blood.
Only, for Callen, that was tough to answer.
Who could follow up that act?
Timothy had been one of a kind. There was no doubt he’d expected one of his grandsons to take over. Wyler would have been the ideal Shaman, had he had any interest.
Now, it fell to them.
To Ethan.
Callen wasn’t even close to Shaman-like. In fact, he was someone completely different. He was Jackson James, the writer. That was his path.
He was the storyteller of the family.
Ethan was the one who could dreamwalk with their ancestors. He had to make that decision.
On.
His.
Own.
“I don’t know, EJ. That’s something that needs to be answered by you. If we’re here, I don’t see why you couldn’t do it. Then again, how long will we be here? At some point, we have to go back to our home in DC.”
That was a good question.
As for the length of time there, Ethan knew it wouldn’t be long. His wife was going to want to get the hell out of here as soon as she talked Wyler into leaving.
He couldn’t stay behind.
Ethan wouldn’t flourish without his family. There was no way he could watch Elizabeth and their kids walk away—even if the rez was calling to him.
The universe would have to line up.
Because that was a sacrifice he didn’t believe he was strong enough to make.
Instead of dwelling, he wanted to see more. He had ninety-nine problems, and becoming the Shaman here for the tribe was not one of them.
He didn’t know if he could even balance work, his family, and being the tribe Shaman.
The bottom line was that Ethan was notoriously bad at multitasking.
