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Even if they gave her another chance, which one would she choose? How did she select between former lovers, particularly when both men had loved her so well?
Reluctantly, she wiped down the counters, postponing the inevitable. Judging by their expressions, Morgan realized once she joined Blake and Grant on the porch, her days of running would be over. They wouldn’t let her hide from what she’d done. They’d force her to face them, and her fears.
The screen door opened and closed. “We want to talk to you,” Blake announced.
“Sure,” she retorted. “Let me finish here and I’ll be right out.”
Blake left the same way he entered. Morgan completed the task of tidying up the kitchen. Unable to resist, she returned to the sink and peered outside a final time.
Grant and Blake sat on the expanded porch, each of them rocking in their respective chairs. Whatever awaited her on the other side of the window was bound to do one of two things.
Blake and Grant would either convince her she should’ve kept running, or they would show her why coming home was the best decision she’d ever made.
* * * *
“She’s a drug addict, Blake. She’ll lie, cheat, steal, and do whatever it takes to get high.”
“Maybe that’s who she was, but didn’t you see her? She looks good. Her eyes are clear. She’s able to look at you when she speaks. From what Kit and Kemper once told me, she wasn’t able to do that before. Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that I still love her.” Blake studied his tented hands and added, “I guess I always will.”
“You love what she was, not who she’s become.”
“How do you know who she’s become? We haven’t seen her in over three and a half years. For all you know, her past made her a better person.”
“I don’t see how. You must’ve forgotten about the last time she was here. Kit found her with a needle in her arm.” A beat later he added, “And don’t get me started on the thieving she did. She took so much cash from this house that if I’d been her brother, I would’ve had her arrested.”
Blake’s heart sank. “To this day, I’ll never understand why Kit and Kemper didn’t tie her down, call us over here, and ask for help. She might have listened to us. We could’ve gotten her clean.”
“She didn’t want help,” Grant reminded him. “She was living the life she desired at the time. She even told Kit and Kemper that if she needed anything at all, she’d ask for it. Then, she robbed them blind. That doesn’t sound like a woman ready to ask for assistance.”
“A junkie doesn’t ask for help.”
“This junkie does,” Morgan said, slamming the door as she strolled across the porch.
Blake gulped. “Morgan, I…”
She held up her hand. “Don’t, Blake. Let me talk, please.” With tears in her eyes, she sat down on the swing directly across from them. Rubbing her small hands against her thin thighs, she shifted her gaze from one man to the next. Finally, she looked at Grant directly and said, “I’ve been clean for five days. They’ve been the worst days of my life.
“Today is the first day I can remember waking up with a fresh outlook on life. Still, I’d take that needle over my next cup of coffee if you have one there in your pocket. I know you don’t, but I don’t care to fantasize about possibilities all the same.”
“What’d I tell you?” Grant asked, shooting Blake a sideways glance.
A sudden shift in Morgan’s expression led Blake to believe Grant was pushing Morgan’s buttons. A few minutes of this and she might flee. That’s what Morgan had always done, and her brothers let her get away with it. She ran when things didn’t suit her. In recent years, she seemingly developed a disappearing act better than many magicians.
Private investigators hadn’t been able to locate her after she left the last time. Kit and Kemper spent thousands of dollars just trying to find out where Morgan ended up. Blake didn’t want her to run away once more, fearing if she left East Tennessee, they’d never see her again.
“Grant, let Morgan speak,” Blake said, tilting his head toward her. “I want to hear what you have to say. We both do.”
Morgan took a deep breath and hurriedly said, “Let’s see, I have a three-hundred-dollar-a-day habit, ran through my inheritance from Mother and Daddy, and sold all my jewelry at a pawn shop in Arkansas about six months ago. To put things in perspective there, I unloaded about ten thousand dollars worth of gold and diamonds for around six. That’s hundred, not thousand.
“Last year, I hooked up with my dealer, who generously provided a daily fix until he ditched me for a chick without a substance problem. He stuck me with what he called a drug tab and calculated that to mean I owed him over a hundred grand, which he wants paid in full immediately. He probably assumes I can get that much here.”
“Kit and Kemper don’t have that kind of money lying around,” Grant deadpanned.
“You never know,” Morgan said flippantly, taking a real attitude with Grant. “Never hurts to ask the family to bail you out after you’ve made a mess of your life, right?”
Blake wondered th
en if Morgan was home for that very reason. Was she down on her luck, looking to score the kind of money needed to pay off her dealer-slash-boyfriend, or had she come home hoping to start a new life on a straight and narrow path?
