I hem and haw about telling him about the test on the way out, and he gets frustrated, not understanding why I’m stalling. I say, “We still need to talk.” But he isn’t up for hearing it. Something’s got him charged up, and he’s like a snake all coiled and ready to strike. So instead of blurting it out or demanding that he listen, I climb onto the back of his bike and don’t say another word until we’re back at the house. As we move toward the front door, Duke’s cell rings. He stops in place and gives my ass a pat, saying, “Go on in, baby. I gotta take this. It’s Grady.” My nerves are so shot, and I’m so on edge that I just nod and go on inside. The lights in the house are already on, telling me that Jeremy is home. I haven’t seen too much of him lately, but the times I have, it’s been better. He’s picked up after himself more, and he’s not been as mouthy. We still have our moments, but Duke’s presence in his life seems to be creating a turn-around for my brother.
