1. Raven

1

RAVEN

A month earlier…

Being healthy feels awesome .

Seriously awesome.

I sit on the back deck outside my parents' ranch house. It's early, but this is nothing new. I was born on a ranch, and ranchers get up before the sun. But I haven't been getting up before the sun since I got sick. I've slept a lot of my time away. Now that I'm cancer-free—so far at least—and my body is returning to normal, I love getting up early.

Was the sky always this blue?

I took so much for granted, like the color of the Texas sky. It's not simply blue. It's a brilliant blue—the kind of blue that makes you stop and stare. It's like I'm seeing it for the first time. The colors around me are more vivid, more intense. The green of the trees, the bursts of color from flowers—they all seem to pop in a way I never noticed before.

The air feels different too. It's fresh and crisp, filling my lungs with each deep breath I take. Another thing I used to take for granted—the simple act of breathing without effort, without pain. Now, every inhale is a gift, a reminder of how precious and fragile life truly is. A gentle and soothing breeze brushes against my skin, and I can't help but close my eyes and savor the sensation.

I think about how far I've come, how I've fought through the darkest days and nights. Those endless treatments, the uncertainty, the fear—they're behind me now. I've emerged on the other side, stronger and more appreciative of the little things. Like how the sun feels warmer, more comforting, as it bathes me in its golden light. Or how the sound of my brothers talking among themselves is reassuring rather than driving me insane because they're leaving me out once again.

Their voices are low, coming from inside the kitchen.

Do they know I'm out here?

I rise to say good morning when their words filter out to me. I drop my jaw.

"We've got to stop Dad," my brother Hawk says. "This can't happen."

"Yeah?" Falcon's voice. "Tell me how, and I'm on it. Fuck it all. After all these years…"

"Please fix this." The voice belongs to my youngest brother, Eagle, and his tone is anxious, full of fear. "I thought this was over. You promised me you'd fix it, Falcon."

"Jesus Christ, Eagle." This from Hawk again. "He already did time for a crime he didn't commit. What the fuck else do you want?"

"Easy," Falcon, my older brother says. "What's done is done. We can't change any of it. All we can do is make sure no one digs on that land. At least not until we can fix everything."

"And how the hell do you expect us to do that?" Hawk demands. "The excavation is Dad's call, not ours."

"I'm on it," Falcon says. "Don't worry. No one's going to be digging there anytime soon."

My heart is racing. What are they talking about? Falcon went to prison for?—

I nearly jump out of my chair and run inside the kitchen.

All three of my brothers go silent.

"Yeah, I heard you," I say.

"What are you doing up, Raven?" Falcon asks. "You should be in bed. Resting."

"I've spent the last two years in bed, Fal." I cross my arms. "I'm done staying in bed. I got up early because I felt good. Fucking good. But now, I overhear my three brothers talking about?—"

"Raven." Falcon's voice is stern. He's the only one of my brothers who's older than I am. But he's only a year older, and we're all adults here.

"Falcon," I say back to him. "Don't pull that big brother crap on me. You may have saved my life with your bone marrow, but?—"

"Christ, Ray." He rubs his forehead. "I won't ever hold that over your head. I was happy to do it. I'm so glad I could do it. What we were talking about—it's…nothing."

"Not from what I heard," I say.

Eagle's eyes are bloodshot. My baby brother. I want to go to him, take him in my arms. Hold him and read him a story like I used to when we were kids.

Eagle is no longer a kid. He's twenty-five years old. But looking at him now—with Falcon and Hawk both glaring at him—I could swear he's still that wide-eyed little boy.

Falcon clears his throat. "Raven, what the three of us were talking about doesn't concern you. You have one thing to concentrate on right now and that's healing your body."

"Your bone marrow is doing a pretty good job of that for me," I say.

"Ray…"

I shake my head. "Don't try to protect me, Falcon. I'm getting my strength back day by day. It grows a little with each passing sunrise, along with my hair. So spit it out, all of you. What the hell is going on here?"

"Let it lie," Hawk says. "Please, Raven."

"Please," Falcon echoes.

I look into my older brother's dark eyes. He saw more than any young man should during his time in prison. He's become hardened. His eyes are more deep-set, the dimples on his cheeks now creases. He's only thirty—still a young man. But incarceration ages you, and my brother is no exception.

He's also my Achilles heel. His bone marrow saved my life.

If he's going to ask me to look the other way, I can do it. I can do it for the person who saved me.

"Please," Falcon says again. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you. If you didn't allow yourself the time to fully heal."

"I don't want to worry about you guys," I say.

Falcon nods. "You never have to worry about me, Ray. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's how to take care of myself."

"Do you?" I tilt my head.

He raises an eyebrow. "You think I got through prison on my good looks alone?"

Falcon can always make me smile. He's the one who sat at my bedside after the transplant when I was feeling so sick and weak. He told me how to be strong, how to face every adversity, even when fear was threatening to eat me alive. He's the one who taught me that courage isn't the lack of fear. It's facing your fear, because something else is far greater than the fear. Do I believe he can take care of himself? Of course I do.

"What about Hawk and Eagle?"

Eagle says nothing.

But Hawk is never one to keep quiet. He's the first person to call out any kind of injustice. He hates unfairness of any kind. "Everything's fine, Ray. Please trust us on that."

Hawk doesn't lie.

So I choose.

I choose to trust my brothers.

I choose to look the other way.

At least for now.