he reached the edge. A foot and a half, maybe two. He stared at Shasta.
“More speed next time.”
“Hey, I wanted to make it interesting for you.”
“Too interesting.” Corin jogged back down the ramp over to his brother and slapped his hands down on Shasta’s shoulders. “That kind of interesting I can do without.”
“I was just curious how riled up I could make you.”
“This cat doesn’t want to get killed.”
“But I was satisfied.”
“Get serious, did you do that on purpose?”
Shasta took off his gloves and stuck them in his back pocket. “True serious?”
“Yes.”
“I blew it back there. Thought I had enough speed. I’m sorry, bro; didn’t mean to scare you. That one even made me nervous.”
“Don’t do that to me. Losing you would not be good for my mental health, get it?”
“Got it.”
“Cor? You there?”
Robin’s voice sliced through the memory and brought him back to the present.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
The image in his mind of the dirt bike jump faded into a picture of the ski slope. “I made him do it.”
“It was his choice.”
“I forced him into it.”
“You pushed him down the hill? Forced him up that ramp?”
Corin massaged the knots in the back of his neck. “Nice try. I appreciate it.”
“I’m not trying to placate you. Yes, you were probably persuasive, but in the end it was his choice. He chose to launch himself into the air; you didn’t choose it for him.”
“Life would be different if I hadn’t talked him into it.”
“Promise me something,” Robin said.
“Anything.”
“You’ll never stop trying.”
“Never.” Corin looked at himself in the rearview mirror and studied his haunted eyes. “I’ll die first.”
CORIN STRODE THROUGH the doors of Tori’s dojo early Friday evening determined to talk to her about the chair. She wasn’t warm to the subject, but things were getting too weird and she was the only one who he could trust.
Hey!” She bounced up to him in a bright blue top and black gym shorts and planted a kiss on his lips. “Ready for a slash-and-dash workout?”
“Slash and dash?”
“Slash through this thing and still dash out with plenty of time to enjoy that dinner you promised me at your place plus get to the theater in time to catch a late flick together.” She glanced at the clock on her wall over the mirrors that ran the length of the dojo, then trotted over to the gray workout bags hanging from the ceiling.
As Corin peeled off his sweats he said, “I need to talk to you about something.”
Thwack! Tori gave her bag a roundhouse kick. “Talk.”
He jogged over to the bag next to Tori and struck it like a boxer.
“This isn’t boxing, bub; it’s mixed martial arts.”
“Right.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“The chair.”
“Again?”
“A guy from some megachurch came in today wanting to, ‘Give me expertise in what I’m dealing with.’”
“What are you dealing with? Is the thing going to explode?”
“Then he insinuated I would be wise to let him study it and keep it for me.”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Tori kicked the bag three times in rapid succession, then finished with a shot from her fist. “Just sell the thing. Or give it to this guy.”
“Don’t you think there might be something a little weird going on here with this chair? The healing of that kid, now a sudden interest from this church?”
“Definitely something weird.” Thud, thud, thud! Tori pummeled the bag with her feet.
“I need to know if this chair can heal people.” Corin gave his bag a swift kick and followed it up with a forearm blow even Tori would be proud of. “Could it really have been made by Christ? Where should I take it? I have to talk to somebody who knows something about this. Figure out what to do with it.”
“Shut up, Corin.” Tori grabbed her bag with both hands and stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“What’s your problem?”
“The weird thing I’m
“More speed next time.”
“Hey, I wanted to make it interesting for you.”
“Too interesting.” Corin jogged back down the ramp over to his brother and slapped his hands down on Shasta’s shoulders. “That kind of interesting I can do without.”
“I was just curious how riled up I could make you.”
“This cat doesn’t want to get killed.”
“But I was satisfied.”
“Get serious, did you do that on purpose?”
Shasta took off his gloves and stuck them in his back pocket. “True serious?”
“Yes.”
“I blew it back there. Thought I had enough speed. I’m sorry, bro; didn’t mean to scare you. That one even made me nervous.”
“Don’t do that to me. Losing you would not be good for my mental health, get it?”
“Got it.”
“Cor? You there?”
Robin’s voice sliced through the memory and brought him back to the present.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
The image in his mind of the dirt bike jump faded into a picture of the ski slope. “I made him do it.”
“It was his choice.”
“I forced him into it.”
“You pushed him down the hill? Forced him up that ramp?”
Corin massaged the knots in the back of his neck. “Nice try. I appreciate it.”
“I’m not trying to placate you. Yes, you were probably persuasive, but in the end it was his choice. He chose to launch himself into the air; you didn’t choose it for him.”
“Life would be different if I hadn’t talked him into it.”
“Promise me something,” Robin said.
“Anything.”
“You’ll never stop trying.”
“Never.” Corin looked at himself in the rearview mirror and studied his haunted eyes. “I’ll die first.”
CORIN STRODE THROUGH the doors of Tori’s dojo early Friday evening determined to talk to her about the chair. She wasn’t warm to the subject, but things were getting too weird and she was the only one who he could trust.
Hey!” She bounced up to him in a bright blue top and black gym shorts and planted a kiss on his lips. “Ready for a slash-and-dash workout?”
“Slash and dash?”
“Slash through this thing and still dash out with plenty of time to enjoy that dinner you promised me at your place plus get to the theater in time to catch a late flick together.” She glanced at the clock on her wall over the mirrors that ran the length of the dojo, then trotted over to the gray workout bags hanging from the ceiling.
As Corin peeled off his sweats he said, “I need to talk to you about something.”
Thwack! Tori gave her bag a roundhouse kick. “Talk.”
He jogged over to the bag next to Tori and struck it like a boxer.
“This isn’t boxing, bub; it’s mixed martial arts.”
“Right.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“The chair.”
“Again?”
“A guy from some megachurch came in today wanting to, ‘Give me expertise in what I’m dealing with.’”
“What are you dealing with? Is the thing going to explode?”
“Then he insinuated I would be wise to let him study it and keep it for me.”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Tori kicked the bag three times in rapid succession, then finished with a shot from her fist. “Just sell the thing. Or give it to this guy.”
“Don’t you think there might be something a little weird going on here with this chair? The healing of that kid, now a sudden interest from this church?”
“Definitely something weird.” Thud, thud, thud! Tori pummeled the bag with her feet.
“I need to know if this chair can heal people.” Corin gave his bag a swift kick and followed it up with a forearm blow even Tori would be proud of. “Could it really have been made by Christ? Where should I take it? I have to talk to somebody who knows something about this. Figure out what to do with it.”
“Shut up, Corin.” Tori grabbed her bag with both hands and stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“What’s your problem?”
“The weird thing I’m
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