Free Impossibly Forever: Two Books in One (Impossibly Duology) by Shane Morgan Page B

in. “I’m tired, baby. I’m going to bed.”
      
“You’re not going to finish watching the show?” I asked, giving her a quizzical
look.
      
Momma lowered and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ve already seen the episode.”
She stroked my cheek then headed out of the room.
      
I watched her turn down the hall somewhat in a hurried manner. Her body seemed
burdened. It could be she was only tired from years of working so hard—Lord
knows Momma worked hard. But something was off. Like, she was keeping secrets,
from me.
     
     
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    Branden
     
       After dinner on Sunday , Ashton and I decided to shoot hoops out back,
especially since Mom had to run out to the store and wouldn’t be there to stop
us.
      
Ashton was the more skilled player, anyway. He could dribble much better than
me and even dunk!
      
“So, who was that girl, really? It was, ah, Moya, right?” he asked. It would be
a matter of time before they’d start asking about her.
       “A friend.” I left it at that as he prevented me from
passing him with the ball.
      
Eventually, he got it from my hands.
      
“Sure, little brother. That’s what you said last night. I get the feeling
there’s something else between you two, though.” He could read me like a book.
      
I stopped to take a breath, sitting on the bench at the side of the court. “I
know, but, I can’t. I can’t do that to her.”
      
Ashton bounced the ball while waiting for me to recover and I thought back to
last night, seeing Moya. I noticed the look in her eyes when she hurried over
to stop me from leaving. Moya liked me. She definitely did, and was probably
going to say it last night. Would she still want to be with me if she found out
my secret?
      
I shot to my feet and began to hassle Ashton for the ball to change the topic.
      
A loud shriek drew us to a halt. “What are you two doing? Ashton, you know he’s
not supposed to get this worked up.”
      
Mom rushed over toward us.
      
“Hey, Mom,” Ashton said, a sincerity in his tone that belied his light grin. He
bounced the ball against the ground, the loud sound drawing her worried gaze
from me and pinning it on him. “Come on. Ease up a little,” he added. “I’m not
going to push him too hard. It’s just a little fun.”
      
She shook her head and took the ball out his hands. “Branden can’t run around
playing sports the way you do, Ashton. That’s why he gave up hockey, remember?”
she scowled.
      
I held my hands up as I reminded her, “Branden’s standing right here, okay.” I
didn’t stop there. Her behavior had been driving me up the wall. “You know,
Mom, I can speak for myself and say when I’m tired, when I’m hungry, and when
I’m sick, all right. So stop treating me like I’m ten.”
      
“Are you finished?” Dad yelled out at me, aggressively closing the sliding
doors to the kitchen as he marched over to the basketball court. “Because let
me tell you something, Branden, I’m sick of all that’s going on, too. You’re
not the only one going through it. This damn atmosphere is suffocating me—”
      
“Oh stop,” Mom snapped. Her pitch heightened as she scolded Dad, still
clutching the ball. “What do you mean ‘not the only one going through it’?” She
widened her eyes with amazement as she asked, “What are you going through?
You’re not at any of the hospital sessions or sitting in the room as they
examine him over and over and take blood after blood. Then they prescribe all
these damn drugs that have no effect on his illness except make it worse. So
please, spare us this sudden need to express how you feel, Scott, because,
frankly, I don’t think you even have the right to say anything.”
      
Ashton grabbed the ball out her hands and tossed it to the side angrily. “Stop
it!” he blurted out, his words punctuated by sharp breaths as he looked between
Mom and Dad. “This is about Branden, not you