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Dropping the bag he
headed for the kitchen.
    Griffin swung around by the kitchen sink whenever he
heard Drew enter the room. He leaned lazily against the cabinets chugging down
an entire glass of water.
    “Shit you’ve gotten a lot taller!” Drew remarked,
grabbing a soda from the refrigerator.
    “Turning nineteen will do that to you,” Griff
smirked.
    The soda hissed as Drew dropped down in a chair and chugged
down half of the soda. It had been a long, tiring trip. “Where’s Birddog?” Drew
asked his gaze traveling over the matured features of Griffins face. The guy
had more stubble along his jaw than he did. When did that happen?
    “Her and Ms. Susan went to pick up a few things from
the grocery store. They’re both going to have a conniption-fit when they see
who has honored us with his presence.” Griffin was still smirking like a
smartass. He asked Drew, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
    “About what?” Drew gave his empty can a spin on the
table top.
    Griffin raised a brow.
    “Oh, you mean… am I going to ask about your sudden
ability to communicate like the rest of us?”
    Griffin appeared the same as every other nineteen
year old relaxing at home on a Sunday afternoon. He was wearing a long sleeve
red T-shirt, the sleeves so long they almost swallowed his fingers, no shoes;
one grey sock scratching the top of the other foot. He studied Drew as if he
was waiting for more. “I take it you’re not shocked?”
    Drew shook his head. “I figured something was up all
those times I saw you and Emma sneaking off to the lake for a swim. I didn’t
think she was hanging out with you just to hear herself talk…can’t picture her
being satisfied with that.”
    “You’re not going to hit me up for reasons why?”
    “Nope. I’m guessing you didn’t feel like talking to
a bunch of strangers. It took us a little while to earn your trust, and it’ll
take even longer for you to trust us enough to tell us the entire story.”
    Griffs eyes narrowed. “When did you get so smart?”
    Drew lunged out of his seat and playfully punched the
guy in the stomach. “What the hell you talking about? I’ve always been smart.”  
    “Maybe in your dreams!” Griffin clipped Drew’s
shoulder with his knuckles. “Are you home for a visit or for good?”
    A lazy smile crept onto Drew’s face. “I’m thinking
about fixing up the barn and buying back the horses.”
    Griffin bit down on his lips fighting hard not to
laugh. “Do you even know how to swing a hammer?”
    “I’ll hire someone to do it.”
    Birdie and Ms. Susan squealed as soon as they
entered the kitchen. Birdie settled the bags filling up her hands on the
counter top and pulled Drew in for a hug. “You’re home,” she cooed, firmly
patting him on the back. ♠
    Seven
    Mackenzie
staggered up to his door. His head buzzed and his legs felt like they were pumping
Jell-O instead of blood, wobbly underneath the weight of him. He only had to
make it to the couch, and then he could pass out. The keys he was picking
through clattered to the floor.
     
    Ah
shit, bending over wasn’t going to go over too well with his stomach.
     
    A
flat palm smacked against the door squealing down wood as he folded at the
waist bumping the set of keys with deft fingers. He fed the keys into the lock
and stumbled inside the dark entry, his only welcome the darkness and silence. “Damn
it all to hell! Fuck ‘em all! Who needs the headaches?” Keys plunked down beside
a crystal dish on the small table in the foyer. He shrugged out of his jacket
and zigzagged his way over to the couch realizing he had way too much shit someone
could run into. The comfort of the couch sucked his large frame into it and a
smirk formed on his face. Triumph! He’d managed to make it home without needing
to call his son and without ending up face down in gutter somewhere. He punched
two enthusiastic fists in the air; one more victory for team Mackenzie!
     
    He
must have passed out,