Free Walker Revenge (The Walker Family Series Book 5) by Bernadette Marie Page B

mouth.
    “I shouldn’t be in this chair at all,” he
said, turning to face her. “I wasn’t drunk that night. I don’t
remember losing control of my truck. I don’t remember anyone
running me off the road either.”
    “But Phillip said you were, and they found
the truck that did it.”
    He nodded. “He told me. Her ex-husband’s
truck.”
    “And it was parked outside of her house,”
his mother whispered as if it were a secret.
    Russell rubbed the ache starting between his
eyes. It didn’t sit right with him. Who was at the bar that night
in another blue truck? And he hadn’t known anyone at the bar
either.
    “You’re due for your pain meds.” She stood
from the table and hurried off to find the bag they’d brought home
as Chelsea and Lucas came through the back door. She had hold of
both his hands and walked behind him. He was covered in mud and
grinning from ear to ear.
    Russell’s mother walked back to the table
with the pills she’d gone after, and a glass of water. Shifting a
glance at Chelsea she tucked in a smile. “Oh, my goodness. What
happened here?”
    “Lucas seems to think it’s a fun game to
chase the chickens,” she said still holding tightly to his hands.
“I need to throw him in a tub, but I don’t want to get mud all over
the house.”
    “I’ll get him some clean clothes, and you
take him into Russell’s room. There’s a tub in there.”
    Russell swallowed the pills his mother had
given him and nearly choked on them. “My room doesn’t have a
bathroom.”
    “Honey, we moved you down to the main level.
It’ll be a bit before you can do the stairs. Chelsea and Lucas are
staying in your room.”
    The panicked look on Chelsea’s face meant
that the reaction to his mother’s words had left a trail of
irritation on his.
    “We’ll hurry,” Chelsea said as she hurried
past them to the bedroom down the hall from the kitchen.
    His mother sat back down next to him. The
pain was building, but behind his eyes and not in his leg or arm.
His mother put her hand on his arm. “You should lie down.”
    “Seems as though my room is being occupied,”
he quipped through gritted teeth.
    “I’ll go help her.”
    “Don’t bother. No need to hurry her,” he
said on a breath. “I’m going to just roll myself in there and lay
down.”
    “I’ll help you then.”
    “I don’t need help,” he snapped and realized
he’d done so loudly, as everyone turned and grew quiet.
    That was when the excuses started, and his
family began to dismiss themselves one by one. Soon it was just him
and his mother, alone in the kitchen. The headache had compounded,
and a niggling thought was itching in his brain.
    He hadn’t meant to be so sour about
everything. Getting home was supposed to have made everything
better.
    His mother had escorted everyone out the
door and then run upstairs after the clothes she’d promised Chelsea
she’d find.
    It was then Russell noticed that even his
father had somehow exited with the crowd. He was sitting there
absolutely alone.
    He could use this against them when he was
pissed.
    Backing his chair away from the table, he
managed to maneuver it through the kitchen without crashing his
extended leg into anything. Navigating the turn to the hall was a
little trickier, especially since he only, really, had one good
arm.
    He managed himself into the guestroom on the
main level. Sounds of water, a small voice singing, and Chelsea’s
voice soothing came from the bathroom.
    For a moment he let himself enjoy the
sounds. Once he’d wanted a house full of them. Chances were that
would never happen. He’d grown too crabby and undesirable. There
were times he couldn’t even stand himself.
    Russell rolled the wheelchair to the side of
the bed. Pulling back the bedding, he exposed the fancy linens his
mother would save for guests. If he had to recover there, he might
as well enjoy the best his mother had to offer.
    Putting the brakes on the chair, Russell
carefully bent to move