Bad Boy Brody(25)

I raked a hand over my face. “What do you want to know?”

“Is she happy?”

I nodded. I knew that right away. “She seems to be.”

A tear formed in her eye, but she ignored it and scooted even closer to the edge of her seat. I eyed her feet, making sure they were planted in place so she wouldn’t slip off and onto the ground.

A second question. “Is she healthy?”

Her skin glowed. Her hair was shiny. Her eyes were mischievous. She lit up when she had a grin on her face.

I nodded again. “She looks good. Healthy.”

“She’s eating enough?”

She was petite but strong. She could move like a panther. “She doesn’t seem to be hurting for food. She isn’t weak or frail-looking.”

She let out a shuddering breath, nodding as she finally reached to brush the tear away. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Ah.” An awkward laugh escaped as I shifted. “Well, we . . . I don’t know. Just bullshit, I guess. She asked about me, about my life. I told her a little bit.”

Her eyebrows pulled together again. The ends of her mouth dipped down. “What else?”

“She told me you smeared peanut butter on Matthew’s backseat for one of his dates.”

Her eyes widened again. “She told you that?”

“And that Finn took the fall for you.”

“Oh my . . .” Her mouth stayed open. Both her hands lifted to cover it and she bent forward, resting her forehead on her knees.

I sat up, cringed, and reached toward her, not really knowing what to do, but then I heard the soft laughter.

My shoulders slumped, and I let my hand drop.

Her laughter grew. Soft at first until her shoulders were shaking, and her laugh was echoing over the field. She sat straight, her face beat red with tears all over.

Wiping at her face, still laughing, she began hiccupping. “I can’t believe—” Hiccup. “She remembered—” Another hiccup. She groaned, taking a breath.

She was silent, still holding her breath.

When she exhaled, she leaned back in her seat and let her head rest against the cushion. “Sorry.” A lopsided grin flashed for a moment. A few more soft chuckles had her shaking her head again. “I can’t believe she remembered and that she told you. That was so long ago.”

Her eyes lit up again.

I knew exactly why she began crying again.

I thought of Kyle.

I thought of the laughs we had, the stupid adventures, and I would’ve been crying alongside her if I didn’t have a whole bottle of bourbon in me. It was helping to numb the pain.

“She was so quiet when we moved in.” Abigail wasn’t stopping the tears anymore. She let them slide freely as she looked out over the field. “We all doted on her. I did her hair. She begged me to show her how to do makeup. Finn brought her along every time we did those stupid pranks. She was his apprentice. That was what he called her. He was going to teach her how to take care of herself, and in his mind, that meant learning all the best ways to trick someone. Then there was Matthew and her. She worshiped him, and he always protected her, and then when Karen died . . .” Her mouth closed tightly, and her throat trembled. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “Morgan was supposed to come with us. She was a part of our family. I expected her to be brought to my school, but it never happened. I never thought—” She chewed on the corner of her lip, sounding anguished. “We lost Karen and Morgan that day. We came to visit a few times after, but it was never the same.”

I tried to imagine life from her perspective.

Matthew said he was sixteen when Karen died, that would’ve put the twins around fourteen. She would’ve been in junior high. I had no clue what happened to their first mother, but she would’ve been grieving. I heard the love there. She’d been happy when they were here with Morgan and her mother, but I thought about afterward . . .

The new mother was killed.

All decisions should’ve been pointed toward protecting the youngest. The most vulnerable was always protected. That would’ve been Morgan.

That didn’t happen.

I heard Morgan’s explanation, but Abigail was talking as if it were out of her hands, as if she didn’t know why Morgan didn’t come to her, as if it hadn’t occurred to her to make the suggestion in the first place.

Anger rose, and I bit down on it, shoving it back.

Morgan was scared to move on, and these assholes were letting her stay scared.

“What?”

I looked at her. She was watching me, her tears almost all wiped away.

“What?”

She said, “You made a sound. Are you—” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you upset with me?”

Anger flashed back at me, and I saw how she sat up, how she straightened her shoulders, how her little chin lifted in defiance.

There was the adventurous girl Morgan mentioned.

I gestured to her. “You should be this girl more often.”

“Excuse me?” Her head reared back a little.

“You walk around like a beat dog with your tail between your legs.”

The asshole in me broke the surface. If I was starting, I had to stick with my motto: Go big or go home.

She sucked in her breath. I didn’t want to hear her false indignation. I rolled my eyes and said, “Your whole family drives me fucking crazy. You’re all moaning about each other, but she’s here.” I shoved to my feet and pointed to the field. “You want her? Go get her! And if you can’t find her, turn it around so she has to find you. Get lost. Get into a situation where she has to talk to you. Good grief. And your brother? He looks at her like he wants to control her, and Morgan knows it.”