Ascension, Bailey Bradford [best novel books to read .txt] 📗

The next two people answered Ro as well, which seemed to prove Sev’s first theory that Ro could communicate with the living. He wasn’t sure it was useful, but it was nice not to have lost his uncles as completely as he could have. In fact, as far as he could tell, the main difference was that hugging them was beyond his ability at that point. Conner assured him that he would learn to make himself dense for longer periods of time, but Ro wasn’t so sure. Plus, by the time he learned it, it might be too late. Or unnecessary, depending on what happened to them when they died.

Ro turned his morbid thoughts off. He wasn’t going to waste the time he had with them worrying about things he couldn’t control.

Back in Laine’s office later, Sev seemed worried. “I just don’t know what it means that you can do what you can do,” he told Ro.

“Why does it have to mean anything? Maybe it’s just something I can do. Maybe there’s no point or reason or rhyme to it.”

Conner shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I think everything has a reason, and if someone like me thinks that, then it’s gotta be true.”

“Someone like you?” Ro cocked an eyebrow at Conner, waiting for an explanation. If the man was dogging himself, Ro would set him straight right quick.

“Yeah, someone who doesn’t have many deep thoughts. Don’t have room for them when I’m always making messes of offices and such. Plus, blond hair,” Conner said, confirming Ro’s suspicion that he was insulting himself, even in jest.

“I’m sure there are several blonds who’d take offense to that.” Ro let it go for now. He’d make sure Conner knew he was intelligent as anyone else there later when they were alone. “So what would be the point of this ability of mine?”

No one answered. Yeah, that was what Ro had thought. He supposed only time would tell if there was a purpose for him now or not. Then he looked at Conner, at his smile and dimples, and he knew that, regardless of his psychic ability, he had a purpose. Loving Conner. He’d been doing it for years, although he’d not wanted to admit it, because it had seemed pathetic to be hung up on a spirit, but it was the truth. Eventually he would share that information with Conner, but for now he was content to visit with his uncles and recline in Conner’s arms.

Chapter Twelve

Conner’s eyes burned as he watched Ro cry quietly. It was worse somehow than if Ro had screamed and sobbed, but Ro didn’t, wouldn’t, since they were in the room with Roger, Adela and Martin. A week had passed since Ro’s death, and he was as surprised as Ro that Adela and Martin were still in town. Neither of them could hear the reason why, because not only were they blocked from approaching Roger, there seemed to be some sort of audible block as well. It was the oddest thing ever, and Conner had never seen or heard anything like it before—or not heard, he thought.

Either way, it extended to whoever Roger was talking with, because Adela and Martin’s words were only soundless breaths to him and Ro.

“Dad,” Ro tried again, but just as before, Roger didn’t even bat an eyelash. Ro cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Dad!”

Roger kept nodding at something Adela was saying, but—“Do it again, just like that,” Conner told Ro.

This time when Ro yelled, Conner’s pulse kicked up. Usually it amused him how his spirit form mimicked his former body, but right then he was over it, because he’d seen something. “Again, Ro, please.”

The third time, Martin jerked his head back like he’d been slapped. He rubbed the back of his neck and unobtrusively shifted his gaze all over the room.

“He heard me?” Ro whispered, putting a hand out. It hit that invisible barrier the same as it had before. “Damn it!”

Martin stood up and said something before walking out of the room. Conner took Ro by the arm and popped them outside to where Martin was standing on the porch. The light was off and the darkness almost complete as the sky was clouded with an incoming storm.

Martin stepped up to the rail and leaned out, looking up at the clouds. “I don’t know where you are, Ro, or if you can hear me, but God damn it, we miss you so bad. I was a shitty little brother, but I thought…” Martin sniffled, then sobbed, “I thought we had longer.”

Ro stuffed his fist in his mouth to push back a sob of his own. Conner was going to end up crying at this rate. He caressed Ro’s shoulders for a second then nudged him forward. “Try it. Just maybe like…like a little gust of air or something.” If Ro spoke and Martin heard him, Martin might just go head over ass off the porch.

Ro moved closer to his brother, and Martin stopped mid-sob, hiccupping as he stood up straight and turned toward Ro. Conner watched as Ro concentrated on giving his fingers some density, then Martin’s hair was brushed off his forehead and out of his eyes.

Martin opened his mouth to scream, Conner could see it coming, feel the panic like static electricity—then just as suddenly Martin slapped his hand over his mouth and stumbled backwards. He started to tip over the rail and Conner didn’t think, just acted, not wanting Martin to land in the thorny rosebush below. He swooped and thought and pushed, all of which resulted in Martin shooting forward and through Ro.

Both brothers yelped, and Adela came flying out of the front door. She stopped like she’d hit that invisible wall, and she cupped her face with her hands.

“Chingada madre,” Adela hollered, eyes wide.

“Watch your mouth, Adela,” Ro snapped, probably before he could think not to.

Understandable, Conner figured, considering that his little