Carry On Dreaming (The Cowboy's Promise sequel) (SLOW UPDATES)

Chapter 1

"Elliot Dodge! You are a dead man!" I shout, chasing my brother in my soaking wet clothes.

Danielle and Faith laugh from the front porch. Faith's adopted six-year-old, August, runs along with us. His best friend Seneca joins him. I close the distance between my brother and me and tackle him. We drop to the ground, out of breath from laughing. Seneca and August dog pile on top of us, yelling and laughing. When the girls call the kids in for lunch, I notice Elliot cradling one arm against his chest. I take his wrist in my hand and study his forearm.

Elliot's band of bracelets parts to reveal a pattern of criss-crossed scars. Just above and below them is a fresh set, half of these re-opened and bleeding. My brother tries to jerk his hand away, but I tighten my grip, keeping his arm close to me. I stare at the broken skin with concern. What caused him to start again?

"Elliot," I begin slowly, "are these what I think they are?"

He shakes his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. "No. I stopped that years ago. You know that."

"Yes, but I also know what self-harm scars," I display my own heavily-scarred forearm, "look like, in comparison to these." I then show him the scars on my chest and arms, caused by everything from rowdy horses to barbed wire.

"Congrats. Someone get my brother a damn medal," he deadpans, rolling his eyes.

Keep rolling, bitch. You might find a brain back there, I think to myself, studying Elliot. He's been acting completely out of character lately. I normally shake it off. Every time I try to approach him, he'll either snap or brush me off. Today, though, I'm tempted to try my luck.

"Bro, you okay? You haven't been acting like yourself lately," I say.

"And how am I supposed to feel?" he says calmly, his voice strained. His placid reply startles me.

"You've just been more. . . distant. Especially today."

"Oh, everything's just fine. Nothing that you should remember is going on at all," he replies, his voice taking an edge to it. How did our conversation darken so quickly?

What could Elliot mean by that statement? I search my brain for an answer. It's July, so not El's birthday, or mine, or Faith's, or even Blake's. It's not a rodeo day, or Christmas, or anything remotely important. I think for a minute more, and it hits me like a bullet.

"Oh, God, El. I'm so sorry I forgot. I've tried to put that all out of my mind lately."

Today is the sixth anniversary of Blake's death.

And I forgot it. I feel like a complete asshole right now, to forget something so serious and gut-wrenching as that. Elliot and I only sit in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other.

€*€

Eventually we stand and join our family inside. Dani and Faith are seated at the table talking, Andrew is playing with the kids, and Stephen is simply looking on. Andrew tickling August, who is howling with laughter. A faint smile plays on Stephen's lips as he reads to Seneca, and I find my mouth doing the same. Andrew would be a great dad if he and El could ever marry.

I shake my head and continue through to my room. Since my baby bro so kindly blasted me with the hose while doing yard work earlier, my clothes are now soaked. I swap the cold, damp denim for shorts and return to the sunny kitchen. Andrew has the kids watching a movie as the adults talk. Looking for my laptop and paperwork, I notice that Elliot has my computer, a folder of papers resting nearby on the counter. I shuffle through the papers as I take a seat, glaring at my younger brother.