Читать книгу Montana Creeds: Logan - Linda Miller Lael - Страница 11

LOGAN’S CELL PHONE rang as he walked through the twilight-shadowed orchard, the dog prancing briskly alongside. He squinted at the caller ID panel, swallowed hard and thumbed the appropriate button.

“Hello, Ty,” he said.

The responding chill was transmitted in milliseconds, bouncing from Tyler to some satellite and straight into Logan’s right ear to pulse through his whole head.

“You left a message?” Tyler asked. His voice was deep—the last time they’d spoken, it had still been changing.

Logan suppressed a sigh. “We need to talk,” he said.

“Maybe you need to talk, big brother,” Tyler countered, “but I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Logan stopped in the middle of the orchard, looked up into the branches arching over his head, in case a bear was about to land on him. The weight of what lay between him and Tyler was heavier than anything that could have dropped out of a tree, though.

“Don’t hang up, okay?” he asked. He’d had to swallow a measure of pride before he could get the words out.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Tyler snapped, but at least he was still there. Still listening—if that stony stillness could be considered listening.