Page 94 of Overkill

She shrugged, her smile a little mischievous, like she was keeping a secret. I had suspected that he just didn’t want to be here, but now…

“I’m not going to tell you what it is. You’ll just have to get better and come home to see it.” She crossed her arms, her smile triumphant.

I was too tired to argue.

Greg never came.

I knew he was staying over and watching the kids; he drove them back and forth and fed them. A lot of good food, apparently. A lot of takeout. I couldn’t even imagine what that was costing him.

Or how I’d pay him back.

But he wasn’t in here. Which meant that we were really over. He helped because he was a decent guy and saw the kids in need. He was just doing his good deeds.

I was another project. Like Mrs. Ratcliffe’s mailbox.

“I really like Greg,” Miriam said with a watery smile. She always cried when she visited. We watched TV, and she tried not to show her tears. But she was a sensitive kid, and this was hard. “He’s really nice.”

“He is.”

“You know…Marcus and I talked about it, and maybe…we could redo Mom and Dad’s bedroom. We’ll help. Maybe Greg could move in, instead of living in the barn? Or you could. I mean, it’s your house, and it’s a big room…”

“Oh, honey, I don’t think Greg wants to do that.”

“Why not?” She looked absolutely baffled by the idea that a grown man may not want to move in with a woman and her two teenage siblings.

I couldn’t answer. How could I explain no one wanted all my baggage?

Sometimes Miriam was too damn wise for her age, but other times, she was so very, very young.

“You’re dating, aren’t you?” Her eyes were so bright, so excited. “He wouldn’t be doing all of this for us if he didn’t want to, right? You always tell me that if he wanted to, he would. And Greg is!”

Maybe there was something I could do to bring him back. But after everything…After all of this…it’s too much for any sane person to deal with. Who would volunteer for all of this? Who would choose this?

Who would choose me?

I took her hand in mine and whispered, “Honey, in the time that he and I have been…hanging out”—going steady? Courting? What the hell were we doing?—“we found out Luke was dead. Then Greg’s truck was shot at. Then Ian kidnapped me and shot me. Now I’m in the hospital, and he’s having to take care of you guys—”

“I’m not hard to take care of!”

And God bless her, she was right. But even the easiest kid deserved care.

“I know, sweetheart, but it’s a lot for anyone to deal with.” I was a lot to deal with, too.

If I were a better prize, maybe it’d feel more certain that he would stay. Alas, no. Not this time.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I murmured, knowing her hopes were already up.

So were mine.

“I’ll be home in a couple of days. We’ll figure it out then.”

Miriam called Greg, and for the fourth time in a row, I bit my lips to keep from asking her to let me talk to him. When she left, I took a pill and went back to sleep. Thank God for drugs.

In the morning, I started on my breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and a rather sad little pudding when Sheriff Whitlaw darkened my hospital room door.

“Hey, Mel.”

“Sheriff,” I greeted through a mouthful of banana pudding.