Games of the Heart (The 'Burg #4)(184)

Rhonda had pulled it together in Rhonda’s way. She was still Rhonda but at least she wasn’t moping and vacant anymore. She was back to the old Rhonda if a melancholy one.

“Did you hear what happened?” I asked and her eyes came to me.

“He broke up with her.”

My mouth dropped open as I felt my chest compress.

Then I pushed out a weak, “Sorry?”

“He…he…they were in the livin’ room. They had the doors closed but I heard Rees shoutin’. I didn’t hear what Fin said but she kept shoutin’, ‘I can’t believe you’re breakin’ up with me! I can’t believe you, Fin! I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me!’ over and over. I think he tried to get her to calm down because she shouted, ‘Don’t get near me!’ and took off.”

My eyes drifted to the doorway as I whispered, “How could that be? They’re…they’re…”

“Meant to be,” Rhonda finished for me on a whisper and my eyes moved back to her, now doubly shocked she’d gotten herself together enough to cotton onto that obvious, bedrock fact that every one of us knew but no one was talking about.

“Do you know what’s been eating him lately?” I asked.

Something shifted in her face that wasn’t pleasant to witness and she replied quietly, “Fin doesn’t talk to me much, Dusty. Never really did but now…”

She let that hang and I felt for her but I didn’t have time to deal with that.

I moved toward the hall.

“Don’t!” Rhonda cried and I looked to her.

“What?”

“Don’t go to him. Leave him be,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“He’s…well, he gets that from his Dad. When Darrin got angry or in his head about somethin’, he needed quiet and he needed time. You need to give my boy quiet and time.”

I studied my sister-in-law, seeing her for the first time in a long, long time with new eyes.

Maybe she didn’t drift, protected every second by Darrin, through life.

Maybe shit penetrated.

She proved this by advising, “Go to Rees. She was in a bad way. Fin won’t want you up there but she needs you.”

Shit penetrated with Rhonda. Definitely.

Good to know.

I nodded and swiftly retraced my steps, went out the door, jogged down the steps and kept jogging as I made my way across the field, through the back gate, up the yard and through the door. I got no greeting from Layla and I’d know why when I got through the house and hit the top of the stairs. There I saw Layla’s body moving agitatedly outside Rees’s closed door, Rees’s sobs could be heard and No was standing in the hallway with the neck of his guitar in his hand, face pale, eyes wide, concern easy to read on his face.

“What’s goin’ on?” he whispered. “She shot in here, slammin’ doors and wailin’ loud. Layla’s freaked.”

One look at his face, I knew No was too.

“Your Dad still at the gym?” I asked.

“Far’s I know since he’s not here,” No answered.

I didn’t know if that was good or bad. What I did know was that Mike had left a while ago so he could be back at any time.

Whatever I was going to do, I needed to do.

“Right, keep Layla away from the door, I’m going in,” I told him.

“What’s goin’ on?” No asked again.

I held his concerned eyes and whispered, “Later, honey, I need to get to your sister.”

No studied me, nodded then bent to grab Layla’s collar.

I knocked twice, called, “Reesee, honey, I’m coming in,” then I went in.

She had her back to her headboard, ass to the bed, a pillow stuffed between her chest and her drawn knees, her arms tight around her calves and her red, wet face was turned away.

“Go away, Dusty,” she said softly, her words hitching audibly as her body did it visibly. “Please just go away.”

God, one look and she was the picture of heartbreak and I knew this because she was so heartbroken, my heart broke just looking at her.

“Honey, what happened?”

“G…g…go away,” she whispered, keeping her head averted, not even trying to brush away the tears streaming down her face.

I sat on the side of the end of her bed, keeping my distance but still close and I encouraged gently, “Honey, talk to me. What happened?”

Her head twisted to me, her face twisted with pain and she hissed, “Fin happened.”

Then she pulled in another broken breath, this one hitched twice and it even sounded painful.

I braced and whispered, “What?”

“He says summer’s comin’,” she spat. “He says he’ll be a senior,” she spat again. “He says he’s gotta worry about that farm and when he’s not, he’s gotta do it up, have fun, last chance he’s gonna get. Next year, it’ll only be him who takes care of the farm, he says. So, he’s gonna do it up and to do it up, he’s gotta be free,” she leaned her whole body toward me, pressing into her feet and finished, “he says.”

Oh God.

“Reesee –” I started on another whisper.

“Millie Chapman,” she bit out and my head jerked at the harshness of her tone and the words.