"You need help with Val?"

Prett's anxious voice carried from the living room, waking Jane.

"Then why are you bothering me?"

Jane turned her head towards the open bedroom door. A dim light shone from the powder room, but it wasn't bright enough to see much beyond the foyer.

Sofa springs creaked. Prett spoke again. "I'm already asleep. Go away."

Jane rose on her elbow. She wouldn't be able to see the sofa from here even if it was daylight.

"I always talk in my sleep. And with my eyes open. Yes. Go away."

A pause.

"Now? About what? I'm not switching."

Danny laughed.

"Get off me. There's no room here. Don't you have a perfectly nice bed? No. I'm not falling for that. I'm sleeping here. I'm closing my eyes. I can't see you anymore. I don't know what you're saying."

Another chuckle from Danny before a halting, slurring voice said, "Wa arree oing oo oo?"

"And now he speaks to me. Did I mention I was already asleep?"

"Waa are we going oo do?"

"About what?"

"When she done paining."

"Put the woodwork up," Prett said.

"She eave or Texas."

"Do you have a point? Because I was in the middle of a lovely dream—"

"I ike er."

"She's female. That's a given."

"You ike er."

Prett let out a frustrated huff. "Yes, and Val likes her. We all like her. She's very likable. Now let me sleep."

"I wan er to stay."

"Then ask her to."

Danny scoffed. "She wunt care bout me."

"Then hogtie her till she promises to stick around," Prett said with annoyance. "I'm sure she won't offer much resistance in this weakened state. You can probably charm her into thinking it was her idea."

Danny responded in a sing-song tone, "You eally ike er."

"Git yer hands off me. Have I ever toldt ye' what a pain in the ass ye' are?"

Danny laughed. "It's cuz see ooks ike Em—" The furnace kicked on, and the air blowing out the vents obscured his remaining words.

Jane sat up. She strained her ears, but Danny and Prett's voices remained muffled. She heard a quick scraping sound like the coffee table getting bumped, followed by fading laughter from Danny. Then nothing.

***

This motel room should be easy to paint. It's small. But too dark. She pulled back the curtains and exposed a pink panel. She pulled it off and there was another behind it. She pulled that one off, too.

Outside, a car drove past.

Her parents' car.

She panicked. Stop them!

She ran down the gravel. The car stopped, turned around, and drove towards her. Gavin Turney jumped out. He grabbed her, tied her hands and feet, and threw her into the trunk.

She screamed. The trunk lid opened and Val picked her up, carrying her to a trailer house filled with crying red-headed toddlers. Val disappeared and Danny arrived, a pool cue slung on his back, dragging a deer by the antlers. Then he sat in his underwear on the sofa, drinking a beer.

And she searched and searched all the rooms, but couldn't find the paintbrush.

Prett would know where the paintbrush was.

She had to find Prett.

***

She had to find Prett.

Jane found herself rounding the end of the sofa and staring down at him without knowing how she'd gotten there.

He lay with one arm on his chest and the other crooked above his head, his expression one of peaceful slumber. Jane stood beside him a long moment, watching him sleep. A lock of hair lay across his cheek, and with soft fingers, she brushed it off.

Prett grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm. He pushed her hip with his other hand and shoved her away. Jane yelped with pain as she sat hard on the coffee table. It scraped the floor.

I heard that before. Is time repeating?

"Sorry!" Prett sat up, his eyes wide. He held his hands out as if to keep her away. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't—"

"You startled me. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Jane's wrist throbbed where he had gripped her. The sensation contrasted with the faded memory of his cool hands on her forehead hours before.

"I...I think I woke you up," she whispered.

"Yeah." He relaxed, lowering his hands. "It's the theme for tonight." With slight panic, he added, "Did you whistle and I not hear you?"

"No, I..." Her knee touched his as she stared at him in the half-darkness. She wanted to lean against him like she had before. She wanted him to hold her hand. But blackness enveloped her as she pitched forward.

***

Something tickled her ear and beeped. "Your fever's returned. One hundred one."

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"I'm sorry I'm such a lousy doctor."

"You're a good doctor, Brandon. I love you."

A wry chuckle prompted her to open her eyes. She was in Prett's bed with him sitting beside her.

How did I get back here?

She blinked at him.

Maybe I never left.

Prett measured out medication and helped her sit long enough to drink it. She flopped back onto the pillow.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked.

His lips twisted upward. "You talking to your doctor boyfriend, or me?"

"You. Prett."

"Because the question would be terribly ironic if asked of him, don't you think?"

"I suppose so."

"He obviously didn't care a wit for you. Or had no compassion. Or both. Whatever it was, you're better off without him."

"I see that now," she whispered.

"Do you? Sounds like you're still pining for him." Prett went to the bathroom to refill her glass. "Sorry," he said as he returned. "I'm no better than him if I beat you over the head when you're too weak to fight back." He set the water on the nightstand and turned off the bedside lamp. "I'll let you go back to sleep."

"Prett?" She reached for his hand and snagged his fingers. "I—" She tugged him and he sat on the bed again.

"Yeah?"

"I can't...I can't...find the paintbrush."

"Paintbrush?" he asked with amusement. "You can't find the paintbrush?"

"I...ah—"

"Don't worry about it. I'll dock it from your pay."

"I don't...I mean..." Jane released Prett's fingers and wiped her hand on her cheek. "Oh, I'm not making any sense."

"That's the first sensible thing you've said this go-round." He ran his fingers across her brow. "Get some sleep. You'll be coherent again in a few hours. Hopefully." He leaned forward and pressed his lips on her forehead before snapping back, taking his hands away from her. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done that." He bolted from the room.

Jane stared at the closed door. "I love you," she whispered.

***

Jane sat in the chair, rubbing her lower back and groaning. As if aching muscles weren't enough, she now had excruciating back pain from lying in bed for two days straight. The sun had been up a couple hours though no one had come to check on her.

She'd taken her own temperature, and with relief found it back to normal. Her brain felt clear, but never had reality and dreams been so blurred. Had Danny spoken? Had she thrown herself into Prett's arms? Had he carried her to bed? Shoved her against the coffee table? Kissed her?

Dear God, did I tell him I loved him?

She hoped it was all nothing more than fever-fueled fantasy.

Reality was her aching body, her oily hair, her horrible-smelling breath, and her overall griminess from three days without a shower. Also real were her discarded clothes, washed and folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

Exactly when Prett had placed them there, she didn't know. Even her bra and panties were neatly folded, tucked under the pajama top. Prett handling her underwear was embarrassing enough. Knowing he'd taken the time to fold them was beyond mortifying. She rather wished he'd left her clothes crumpled on the bathroom floor where she'd abandoned them.

Nonetheless, they offered the impetus she needed. She took pleasure in a long hot shower, basking in the beautiful marble surroundings, the heated tile floors, and soft monogrammed towels. Jane donned her pajamas and counted herself lucky when she found an new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Prett can just dock my pay.

She exited the bathroom squeaky clean, less achy, and thoroughly drained from the exertion. She crawled back into bed.

***

She was awake and flipping through channels of the flat-screen hung on the wall opposite the bed when Danny came in to offer a late lunch. She settled on buttered toast and gelatin, and insisted on sitting at the breakfast bar rather than be served in bed. Danny had just sat opposite her to have a conversation when Prett entered the kitchen.

"You go talk to him," Prett growled to Danny. "He's just irritating me."

With a deflated air, Danny complied.

"How is Val?" Jane asked.

"Milking it for all it's worth," Prett muttered as he took Danny's seat and rifled through the newspaper. "He isn't as sick as you, but he might as well be as much as he carries on." He glanced at her. "You must be feeling better."

"Lots." She let out a laugh. "I hurt all over and I have to sleep every three hours, but it's a huge improvement over the past couple days." She paused. "Thanks for making me stay here. I don't know how I would've managed on my own."

"Wouldn't have been alone." Prett put on his reading glasses. "I would've camped out in one of the other rooms. This was just more convenient."

Jane's eyes threatened to fill with tears at his nonchalant kindness, so she concentrated on nibbling her toast. But the previous evening's murky memories wouldn't leave her. "Did I wake you up last night?"

"Yeah."

"Did I...Did you carry me back to bed?"

Prett answered warily. "Yeah."

"Oh." Her memories weren't so fuzzy after all. "And you didn't drop me on my head?" she asked in a lighter tone.

His lips twitched. "No."

"I'll count that as a positive, then."

He gave a nod and returned to reading. But he shifted in his seat a few times. Jane pretended not to notice, delicately eating her lunch and doing her best not to smile.

Prett could contain himself no longer. "I apologize for any inexcusable behavior on my part."

Now Jane grinned. "I apologize for any incomprehensible declarations on my part."

"At least you have an excuse. I have none." He stared at her with that enigmatic look he so often threw her way.

Jane's cheeks heated. She broke his gaze by looking at the spoon in her hand.

He sat a moment longer, then folded the newspaper, saying, "I should check on Aunt Dona." He exited the apartment in a rush.

***

Jane knocked on Val's open door to see how he fared. He lay in bed, propped up by pillows, holding a remote. Danny lounged next to him, a couple pillows flung behind his back, munching on microwave popcorn. They'd started an action movie. Danny pulled up a chair for her, but she got a headache partway through and so returned to bed.

She woke in the early evening and found Prett and Danny in the living room watching the news. She joined them, and over the next couple hours they watched opinion programs, getting into heated discussions on current events, especially the primaries and fall election. Jane attempted to sway their insistence on voting Republican. Danny found her arguments entertaining. His merriment vanished only when Val whistled for him. Jane suggested Danny ask Val to join them, but the latter seemed to prefer keeping his brother running trivial errands instead.

By this time Jane couldn't get comfortable. She shifted her position for the thousandth time, sitting sideways and throwing her right arm on the sofa backrest. She closed her eyes and pressed them into the crook of her arm. "You getting tired?" Prett asked, sitting a cushion away from her.

"No, it just hurts to look at you."

"I totally understand. Look at Vel instead. He's easier on the eyes."

"No, I mean my eyes hurt. It hurts to have them open. It hurts to have them closed. Every time I move them they hurt." She rubbed her fist along her spine. "And my back is killing me."

"Go lie down."

"That doesn't help. My arms and legs hurt, too."

Prett was quiet a moment. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What?" Jane opened her eyes. Prett was shaking his head at Danny, who was trying to convince him of something. "What?" she repeated.

"Vel is offering to give you a back rub," Prett said.

Danny laughed.

"That would be great," Jane gushed, not caring if he was serious or not. "I'm miserable over here."

Danny gave her a nod, but remained in his seat, grinning at Prett until the latter sighed with resignation. Only then did Danny launch himself over to the sofa, settling behind Jane. He started on her shoulders, and she groaned with relief.

"Oh, that feels so good." She turned further into the sofa, burying her head in her arms as Danny worked his way down, spending extra time on her lower back when she said it hurt the worst there. His strong fingers rubbed out the aches and stiffness. He swept her hair forward and rubbed her neck and behind her ears. She melted into the sofa. Danny's fingers worked more tenderly now, not so much kneading as caressing her bare skin. His breath wafted against her hair.

"Vel," Prett growled.

Danny took his hands away. Jane whimpered her protest, but Danny had already stood. She looked up to see Prett scowling at his brother as the latter walked past, headed to the kitchen. Why did he stop? Her back felt so much better, but her arms and legs hurt worse for being overlooked.

Danny returned with a bottle of beer, which he wiped on his forehead before taking a swig. Instead of returning to his seat in the armchair, he squeezed into the space on the other side of Prett.

"There's no room here," Prett said, forced to shift a few inches closer to Jane.

The brothers now sat shoulder to shoulder. After another drink, Danny shifted so his head leaned against Prett.

"GiGi's right, little brother," Prett said with irritation. "You do need a wife. Then you wouldn't be snuggling up to me all the time."

Danny closed his eyes, ignoring Prett's efforts to elbow him away. Prett ended his physical objections to stare at his younger brother. After a minute Prett rested his cheek against Danny's head.

Jane observed this without comment. But their affection caused her heart to ache. I wish I had that kind of love. Maybe Val does, too. He's always left out. The third wheel.

As if in reply to her thoughts, a shrill whistle emanated from Val's bedroom, causing Prett to raise his head and Danny to let out an exasperated groan.

"He needs his pillow refluffed," Prett said with his half-smile. "Or the button pushed on the remote."

Danny groaned again and took another long drink. He sat up straighter, but made no indication of standing.

Another whistle sounded, and Danny replied with a short, sharp one of his own. He downed the last of his beer and slammed the bottle on the coffee table. He turned to Prett, signing, Please.

"Neh. He's calling you, not me." Prett reached for his own can of soda.

Danny pressed his hands together and sank to his knees in front of Prett.

"I don't know which prank he's exacting his revenge on, but I'm sure you deserve it, little brother." Prett took a sip of soda. "And better you than me."

With reluctance, Danny stood and turned to leave.

"Maybe he needs a back rub," Prett added.

Danny stopped mid-stride. He grabbed a sofa pillow and smacked Prett with it.

"Hey! Watch the soda!" Liquid sloshed out of Prett's can.

Danny smacked him again, but Prett grabbed the pillow to protect himself. Danny let go with a flourish and stormed off. Prett tossed the pillow after him. He then leaned back to assess the state of his clothes.

"Now I'm all wet." He set down his soda and went to his bedroom.

Jane rubbed her arms. I wish Danny hadn't stopped when he did. She closed her eyes. I wish I had an older brother. What if I curled up to Prett and put my head on his shoulder? Would he elbow me off? Put his arms around me and kiss me on the forehead? And then apologize for it? Or just beat me off with a pillow?

She opened her eyes. I'm getting ridiculous. Time for bed again.

Willing herself to stand, she shuffled to Prett's bedroom. The door was ajar, and she stepped into the gap. Light spilled from the closet. Prett stood facing away from her, shirtless, and, obviously just a split second before she arrived, pantless, for his thumbs were still in the elastic band of his sweatpants. He reached for a long-sleeved pullover.

Jane stood in shocked stillness, staring at his bare back and arms. Not at his near-nakedness, but what it revealed.

Long-faded welts, some rounded, some like scratches. They covered his torso and arms, overlapping each other. A jagged slash ran through the smaller scars, starting at his left shoulder and ending just above his right hip.

As Prett yanked his shirt over his head, Jane stepped out of sight. She paused, then pushed the door open wider and pretended she had seen nothing and was now entering the room.

Prett straightened the bottom of his shirt, then pulled the closet doors shut. "Going back to bed?" he asked when he saw her.

"Yeah," she replied as she crawled onto the mattress.

"Okay. Whistle if you need me."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: I typically spend months mapping out the entire story before I ever put pen to paper. (Or fingers to keyboard.) In fact, I have three other novels "written" in my head and a fourth partially written on paper.

So *ahem* yes, The Marvels of Prairie Creek really does have a plot. 😁 The problem is the brothers are so much fun to write about that I tend to get carried away with just hanging out with them. That's how I ended up with a 10,000+ word chapter (now split into three) of Jane being stuck in close quarters with them. LOL

Speaking of Jane, I originally planned for us to know everything about her early on. She would be an open book in contrast to the reclusive brothers (particularly Prett.) But the brothers were so dynamic that Jane took a back seat. I had a general idea of her background but she remained a cipher during most of my early daydreaming. As I started writing, her personality began to emerge and I discovered two things: One, she's just as reluctant as Prett to share details of her past, and two, she has the uncanny ability to get Prett to talk about himself. 

But not when she asks him questions directly, as she finds out in the next chapter. So once again Jane is forced to talk about herself instead. Stay tuned! 😊

In the meantime, here's the floorplan of the brothers' apartment:

Be sure to vote and comment! ⤵