Read Online The Telling by Eden Winters - Free Book Online

the two of you. We’re bros,
    right?”
    “That’s right, we’re bros.”
    “Well, don’t think for a minute that I won’t come out there, ‘cause I will—just say the word.”
    For Ryan. For Ryan, Michael would climb mountains.
    The strain was gone from Ryan’s voice when he answered, “Well, that’s good to know, but I’m just relieved that
    you’re not mad. I couldn’t have handled that.”
    “No, Ryan, never mad. Look, I know you’re busy and all, but maybe in a few weeks you could come visit me.”
    “I’ll think about it,” Ryan said, in an off-handed way that didn’t sound very convincing.
    Michael let it pass. He’d wait a few weeks and ask again. “The offer stands whenever you’re feeling up to it.”
    “Thanks, Big Guy. I gotta go now, but don’t be a stranger, all right?”
    The words were so earnest that Michael smiled in spite of himself. “Only if you make the same promise.”
    “You got it.” After a moment’s pause Ryan added, “Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it. Bros.”
    “Bros,” Ryan agreed, then broke the connection. He seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered. Michael closed his eyes,
    recalling their fateful final mission, getting so far and hitting a blank wall. Why couldn’t he remember? And most importantly, why had he been
    sitting in a transport with Ryan while Jimmy had been assigned to a Humvee at the head of the convoy—Michael’s normal spot?
    Ryan worried about Michael’s possible anger, but in truth, Ryan was the one who should be pissed. By all rights it should have been Michael lying
    in that flag-draped casket instead of Jimmy. How long before Ryan realized it, too?

Chapter Five
    On Sunday, against his better judgment, Michael agreed to venture out into the world. Mom wasn’t really implying anything by insisting he
    accompany her to church, but his anxiety level, once they left the book store, rose. Heart beating double-time and breathing erratic, he hurried to the car
    and jumped inside, slamming the door. Screwing his eyes tightly shut, he focused on deep, even breaths as he’d been taught by his therapist.
    “Michael, honey, are you all right?” His mother’s worried voice penetrated the fog of panic. “You didn’t
    take your meds, did you?”
    When he opened his eyes, she scowled at him, that sixth sense mothers have telling her he hadn’t taken his prescription. She’d raised
    him to think of her as a friend, but was still capable of going maternal when necessary. “You know, Mikey, you really need to start taking your
    pills. That doctor gave them to you for a reason.”
    “No, Mom.” Michael plastered on what he hoped passed for a genuine smile. “It’s okay. I really don’t need
    it, I’m fine.”
    “Well, if you’re sure.” She put her aging Focus into gear and pulled away from the curb, heading out of town toward the old
    church his grandparents had attended most of their lives. En route she briefed him on the former members and what they were doing now, about the new
    preacher who was so much better than the last one, and how a committee had formed to clean up around the church and make some necessary repairs to the
    grounds. It was an old church with a cemetery surrounding the main building. Generations of Michael’s family lay beneath the earth in that old
    churchyard, the faded inscriptions on their headstones barely legible. Would he have joined them there had things gone a little differently in the attack
    on his convoy?
    Shaking his head to dispel those thoughts, he turned back to his mother, thankful her attention was on parking the car and not on him. She gave a
    reassuring smile and patted his hand, once she’d found an open spot. “Ready?” She climbed out without waiting for an answer,
    smoothing her skirt and hair.
    Going home now wasn’t an option, though it’s what Michael really wanted to do, no longer in the mood even if his mother did say the
    preacher delivered excellent sermons. The