CHAPTER 5 | Caleb
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It’s been six years and Jacks or Better doesn’t look like it’s aged a day. It’s still the same miles of black fencing, still the same pastures fertilized until they’re electric green. The horses wandering through the pastures might be different, but the bloodlines are undoubtedly still the same: French, German, and the occasional American Thoroughbred.
Everything’s the same so why does it feel different? No, not different. Wrong. Maybe it’s the effects of last night, but I’d actually been contemplating packing my stuff when the Colonel banged on my bedroom door this morning and demanded I get up.
“The staff meeting starts in twenty,” he barked through the door jamb’s crack. “I want you there.”
This is as close to ‘good morning’ as our family gets. It sounds
