Months passed, and I learned to eat the meat again. I started with small bites so that I would not be sick. Slowly, I managed to push away the idea it was human meat. My hunger disappeared, and so did the tension between myself and Miles.

I was unsure how long the meat would last. No one else had come onto our property, and the ice box was getting empty. At first, I suggested rationing what we had left. Miles agreed until Maisie became ill. He was panicked when she could not get out of bed without being sick, but quickly recognized her nausea as being similar to when she was first pregnant with Briar. Now that Maisie was having another baby, Miles refused to ration our meals. He wanted to keep her healthy.

When Maisie was pregnant with Briar, she was visibly anxious and asked Clara hundreds of questions. After Clara died, I needed to talk to Edith so I could keep her calm. Luckily, Maisie was much more confident this time because I could no longer go to Edith. We needed to stay away from the Thatcher home.

After dinner, I loved watching her. Miles would go outside to sit by a fire, like had always done. I would sit at the dining room table and watch Maisie as she washed the dishes. She was smiling as she softly hummed to herself. Her pregnancy was now noticeable, and it filled me with an odd sense of hope. She would have more children, and this going keep to keep the Wilcox family alive.

My cravings for a glass of whiskey had almost completely disappeared and my mind felt clearer.

There was a knock on the front door, and the sound echoed through our home. Maisie's humming stopped and she looked at me with wide eyes. I sucked in a deep breath as I stood. No one had come to our home since Oliver. For months, we lived in pleasant isolation.

Maisie looked out the window over the sink, and craned her neck to see better. The knocking came from the other side of the house. Was she looking for Miles? We both knew that he would kill whoever had come here.

There was another knock, but this one sounded more like someone was slamming their fist into the door. Maisie back toward me, and was chewing on her bottom lip.

"Stay here," I said.

I pulled my key off from around my neck as I walked toward the door. Another knock happened as I unlocked the door. Before opening it, I placed the chain back around my neck and hid the key under my shirt.

At first, the man standing on the porch looked like a stranger. It had been two years since I had seen my younger brother. This man seemed thinner and dark circles were under his eyes, but it was Bram. A wide smile grew across his face as he looked at me. He tipped his head back and covered his mouth with his hands. He made an odd sound. Was that supposed to be a laugh?

"You're here," he said in disbelief. "Of course you are here! You are going to die in this house."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

There was a cold edge to my voice. Bram straightened and his brows furrowed as he looked at me.

"You are not happy to see me, Joe?" he asked.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again.

I glared, and Bram returned to the person I remembered. The smile disappeared and he looked down at his feet. He rubbed his hand along the stubble on his jaw.

"I thought you were too good for this farm," I said.

Bram let out a deep breath, but he was still unable to look up at me.

"Mary left," he said. "She did not like the city, and she went to live with her mother. Both of my girls got married, so now I have nothing."

I told Bram that going to New York was a mistake. It was all just a ridiculous fantasy in his head. He never listened to me. He abandoned the family, and it ruined his life.

"That still does not answer why you are here," I said.

Bram scratched the back of his neck. Slowly, he raised his head; however, he was unable to make eye contact.

"Joe, can I stay here for the night?" he asked. "It is going to be dark soon."

I stared at Bram as he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot. He did not look down, but he was unable to look in my direction. Since we were young, he had been weak. If I left him outside, he would be torn apart by coyotes. If I brought him inside, there was a chance Miles would kill him.

"One night," I said, and Bram finally looked at me. "You need to leave in the morning."

Bram nodded, and I pushed the front door open wider. He stepped in, and smiled as he looked around the home. I closed the door, and hesitated. Should I lock him inside? Would he notice if I locked the door?

"It looks the same," he said. "It is like I had never left."

His chin was tilted up as he walked down the hall. He was walking toward the kitchen, so I hurried to lock the door before rushing behind him. I was close behind him when he walked into the kitchen. He froze when he saw Maisie, and I bumped into his back. Her jaw dropped, and the plate she was drying nearly slipped from her hands.

"This is my brother Bram," I told her.

Maisie raised a brow. Had Miles ever mentioned him to her before? Bram was no longer a part of this family when he abandoned us for the city, so I never brought his name up to her.

"Bram, this is Maisie," I said. "She is Miles's wife."

"Miles has a wife?" Bram asked.

I rolled my eyes as I stepped past him. The Thatchers had the same shocked expression, like they believed no one could love my son. I pulled out my chair at the kitchen table and sat. Bram was chewing on his bottom lip as he watched Maisie, who was still frozen with the plate and rag in her hands as she watched him. His gaze went to her stomach, and she took a step back.

"Bram is staying with us for the night," I said to Maisie, ignoring his question. "He will be leaving in the morning."

Maisie nodded before turning to face the sink. She continued to dry the plates, but she was stealing glances out onto the farm. Was she looking for Miles?

Bram's attention finally left Maisie. I held out my hand to motion for him to sit across from me at the table. His head hung low as he sat. I crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back in my chair. He avoided looking at me, but would glance from side to side.

"Where is Clara?" he asked.

"She passed away," I said. The words were still like a stab to the heart. "It is just the three of us now. Soon, it will be four."

Bram let out a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. Maisie had finished drying the dishes, but she ran the rag across the counter. My chest ached as the nervous movements reminded me of Clara.

"Maisie," I said. She looked over her shoulder, and I pulled out the chair next to me. "Sit down. You need to rest."

She gave her head a slight nod before leaving the rag crumpled on the counter. She sat in the chair next to me, and her hands cradled her stomach. Her gaze was focused on the door. Neither of us knew how Miles would react.

"Why did Mary leave you?" I asked.

"The city was not exactly what I thought it would be," Bram said. "I found work, but the hours were so long and the pay was terrible. I was making less money than I expected, and everything was so expensive. Mary could not handle the stress, so she went to take care of her mother."

I could not stop the smile from speading across my lips. I told him the city was a terrible idea, and he did not listen. He left the family, and his world crumbled.

"Why did you come here?" I asked.

"I want to go back to the city, but I need money," he said.

I scoffed.

"You think we have money?" I asked. "We barely have enough to feed ourselves."

Maisie cringed. It must have been a reminder of what we had been doing with Oliver's body for the past few months.

"Joe, you do have money." Bram held out his hands and motioned them in odd circles. "You have the farm. Sell this."

"Sell the farm?" I asked, anger seeping into my voice. "Where would we live?"

"We would all go to the city," he said. "This time, it will be better. We will have money, and I know a few people who are good with investments. We could double or triple what we have. We could live a great life."

My jaw ached as I gritted my teeth. He ruined his own family, and now he wanted to ruin mine. Luckily, I was not smart enough to not to fall for his delusional fantasies. Maisie was looking down at her belly as she rubbed her hands over her baby. Was she worried I would take her off this farm? Was she worried about being around those vile men from the tavern again?

"No," I said.

"No?" Bram's eyes widened. "Why not? Joe, you can't die on this farm."

The click of the lock echoed through the kitchen. Maisie took in a sharp breath as she watched the door open and Miles walk in. His steps faltered when he saw Bram. It must have also taken him a moment to recognize his uncle because it took a bit for his expression of anger to turn to confusion.

"Bram is staying here for the night," I said.

Bram shifted his weight in the chair so that he could turn to look at Miles. He forced some ridiculous smile and fake chuckle.

"Miles will think it is a good idea," he said. "He will agree we should sell this farm."

"We?" Miles asked.

"Yes," he said. "This is the family farm. Let's sell it and get out of this godforsaken place. We can all start over in a new city."

"We are not selling our home."

"Think of your family, Miles. I see you have a wife now and you're about to have a newborn. You need to make good decisions for them."

Miles grabbed Bram's chair and yanked him back. He was going to realize it was a mistake coming back. He was no longer family, and now he was trying to tear apart what remained of the Wilcox family. We would not let that happen.