Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Dickhead,” Bram answered with a nod. “Glad you made it back.”
“Bram, don’t be an ass,” I hissed. God, he got on my nerves sometimes.
“It’s fine. I’m gonna go,” Shane said.
“Wait, you just got here!”
“I should probably go get the kids.”
“Our mom’s already on her way up here with the kids,” Bram cut in with a nasty smile. “You’ll pass her on the highway.”
“Then I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee,” Shane mumbled before leaving the room.
I stared at my brother in irritation as he watched Shane walk away.
“Did you really have to be an ass? You couldn’t have just behaved like a normal person?” I asked, trying to control the tears of panic that I could feel building behind my eyes.
“I was willing to let the fucker keep his head, that is until I heard him yelling at you from down the hall.”
“He wasn’t yelling.”
“You’re too forgiving.”
“You don’t forgive anyone!”
“And no one takes advantage of me, do they?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Brought you a donut from Joe’s.”
“Thanks.”
“You want to talk about it?” He handed me a small paper sack holding what I knew would be a maple bar from our favorite donut shop.
“He’s taking the kids back to California,” I said, my voice reed-thin.
“What the fuck?” He looked as shocked as I felt. “Don’t let him!”
“There’s nothing I can do, Bram.”
“Fuck that. I’ll—”
“Don’t,” I warned, placing my donut on the table next to me. “It’s not your fight.”
“It’s been my fight since I was ten years old.”
“And I love you for it, but there’s nothing you can do this time. Not without making everything worse.”
My mom shuffled through the door a few minutes later, a little gaggle of Andersons following in her wake like ducklings, and I had to clench my jaw against the urge to cry.
“Annie!” Gunner yelled as my mom set him on the bed. He hadn’t yet mastered the t sound in Auntie. “Annie. Annie. Annie.” He lay down next to me and curled around my belly, tucking his head into the space between my drawn-down chin and my chest.
“He’s been asking for you all morning,” my mom informed me with a smile. “How you feeling?”
“Fine,” I whispered shakily, pulling Gunner toward me as I watched Keller and Sage fight over the only chair in the room while Gavin showed something in his hands to Bram.
What the hell was I going to do?
* * *
Shane picked me up the next morning after I’d been discharged, and we made the silent and strained trip back to my parents’ house. I wasn’t sure why he was silent. He was the one who’d pulled the rug out from under me. I also wasn’t sure why he’d offered to pick me up, instead of my mom like we’d planned.
“We’re leaving at four,” Shane said, finally breaking the silence between us as he turned the car onto my parents’ driveway. “Our flight leaves at six thirty.”
“Seriously?”
“I have to be home in case I get called in. I’ve been lucky so far,” he replied quietly.
“So, that’s it?” I huffed out a derisive laugh. “What are you going to do with the kids while you work?”
“Megan said she can keep them until I find a daycare.”
“You’re putting them in daycare instead of leaving them with their family who loves them,” I said flatly as we rolled to a stop in front of the house. “Good move.”
“They belong with me, and I live in California.”
“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind, is there?” I asked desperately.
Shane shook his head once, his jaw flexing.
“Fine.” I stared out the windshield for a long moment after he put the car in park. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It felt like there was a hole in my chest that was spreading, leaving a path of destruction in its wake.
“Thank you so much for taking care of them for me—” I threw my door open and climbed out of the car so I didn’t have to listen to his bullshit.
“I’ve got it,” I hissed as Shane rushed around the car to grip my elbow. “Don’t.”
“Kate—” he said, his voice strained.
“No. You don’t get to do this and then act like everything’s fine.”
“You’re on bed rest! It’s not like you can take care—”
“Sis?” Bram called out from the front door, walking toward us. “You need some help?”
I turned to my brother, who was practically vibrating with tension. He was trying, I knew he was, but it was taking a toll on him to sit back and do nothing when he knew I was hurting. My protector.
When Alex and Bram had come to our family, I’d been curious to see how two boys who looked so incredibly similar would compare. We hadn’t known then that my parents would adopt them—that came two years later—but as far as I’d been concerned, they were my brothers as soon as they stepped foot in the house—and I’d been almost giddy that I had two for the proverbial price of one.