The Singing River Read Online Free PDF Page B

Roman on his bed, no reason whatsoever to seek out the sandy-haired waitress who worked there. Nevertheless, the compulsion to return had been strong, her green eyes having chased me home. The girl hadn’t been overly remarkable. Wavy hair, a heart-shaped face, and a spattering of freckles. She’d been lanky and tan, the muscles in her arms and legs the kind that came from hard work rather than idleness. She’d not had an easy life. Despite that, there’d been compassion in her eyes when she looked at Roman, and it was a dying emotion. People pitied, but they didn’t feel compassion.
    Leaning against the wall, I whispered, “Haven.”
    The desire to thank the girl had far outweighed common sense.
    “You can go away. I’m fine.”
    Roman’s weary voice broke through my reverie, bringing my attention back to the bed. He sat up, releasing the pillow, the palm of his hand going to his eyes.
    I glared at him. “What the hell did you take?”
    Roman groaned. “Don’t! I had a low moment. Don’t tell me you haven’t had them.”
    Pushing away from the wall, I approached him carefully, my teeth clenched. “Low moments, Roman. Not stupid ones.”
    My brother dropped his hands. “So I’m stupid?” he asked.
    Anger swept over me, effectively replacing the fear I’d felt earlier. I grabbed Roman’s polo shirt, surprising him. His eyes widened as I lifted him toward me.
    “Do you want to kill yourself? Is that it?” I growled. “Do you care so little about yourself? So little about your family?”
    Roman pulled at my hands. “Don’t make this about the family. Don’t you dare make this about the family. This is about me.”
    I dropped him, taking some satisfaction in the way he fell—all knees, elbows, and cursing—onto the floor.
    “How bad off are you really, Roman? What have you gotten yourself into while I was gone?”
    He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it at me. “Go worry about someone else, River.”
    I froze.
    “That’s just it, brother,” I said, my words slow and deliberate. “Who else am I supposed to worry about? You’re it. You’re all the true family I have left.”
    Roman’s eyes met mine, and I saw anguish there. My brother had fought depression for years, even before our father died, but I’d never seen him this low. This low terrified me.
    I nodded, not once stopping to think as I threw him a hard look, storming past him to tear at his dresser.
    Roman jumped out of bed. “What the hell are you doing?”
    I pulled the top drawer out, jerking it completely free of the frame before dumping it. Roman tugged on my shirt, but I shoved him away and rifled through his clothes, leaning to look into the empty space in the dresser before pulling out another drawer.
    “What are you hiding, Roman?” I asked.
    The second drawer proved clean, and I pulled out a third.
    Roman hit the wall with his fist. It left a small dent in the wood but didn’t leave a hole. Old houses were so much sturdier than the newer sheet rock.
    “What the fuck!” Roman cried. “Just get out of my room!”
    I kept rummaging, pulling at every drawer until all of them were empty, and then I moved to his bed, shoving the mattress aside.
    Roman’s arm went around my neck, and he pulled me backward before slamming me against his bedroom wall. I didn’t flinch.
    My gaze met his, his face only an inch below mine. “What are you hiding, Roman?”
    My brother stared at me, his lips pressed together, his breathing hard. Roman was hard to read, his face always blank unless he was trying to be charming or witty.
    He leaned into me, his arm pressing against my collar bone. “My room, my life . ”
    I hooked my foot around the back of his leg, putting enough pressure to make him stumble. He was too close to me for it to be very effective, but it caught him off guard. I shoved him, sending him sprawling before kicking his mattress completely off of the bed. Nothing.
    Roman stood, his face a mask of rage. Whatever