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The kid was blond, with longish wavy hair, big blue eyes, a skinny frame, and knees that were dirty and scraped. He was tall for such a young-looking boy, with wide shoulders that he’d need to grow into, and his T-shirt, an ode to Superman, hung off him. His jean shorts were on the short side, and his feet were bare.
“Are you Uncle Mac?” The kid didn’t sound insolent…not really, but there was something about his tone that got Mac’s attention.
Surprised, Mac took a moment. He had more than one nephew, so whose kid was this?
“You don’t look rich,” he said.
“You’ve got some serious attitude, kid.”
The boy shrugged and Mac thought he muttered, “whatever” under his breath. The little shit.
“I’m Liam.”
Ah. Liam. Becca’s kid.
Maybe. Or was he Dara’s?
“I didn’t know you were visiting. Where’s your grandmother?”
Liam shrugged. “She left an hour ago. I think she went to church or something.”
Figures. His mom had more time for church than any lady he knew besides Mrs. Lancaster, and since her husband was the pastor, she didn’t count. He’s always thought she used to go there to escape the house, but maybe it was more for her soul after all.
“We came in the middle of the night.”
That surprised Mac, and he glanced toward the door.
Liam nodded. “I think we scared the shit out of Grandma.”
“Your mom know that you curse?”
From the looks of it, Liam didn’t care. Huh. He was going to take a wild guess that this was Becca’s kid. Had to be. The eyes were uncanny. Mac wasn’t sure what was going on. He hadn’t seen Becca in a few years, though they kept in touch via email.
He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Liam, and the only thing he came up with was the kid’s baptism. Had it really been that long since he’d seen his sister? He’d been out to visit her in Iowa—once—but for the life of him, he didn’t remember much about his nephew.
God, he was a sorry excuse for an uncle. He didn’t even know how old Liam was, though if he had to guess, he’d say around ten…maybe?
“Liam, is that Mackenzie?”
His sister Becca appeared behind her son.
Becca was a cute little thing except that at the moment she had a black eye and her left arm was in a sling.
They’d come in the middle of the night.
Mac’s jaw tightened, and his hands fisted as all the good vibes he’d had going on evaporated like raindrops on hot pavement.
Becca whispered something into her son’s ear, and Liam rolled his eyes at Mac before disappearing into the house, leaving Mac alone on the porch with his sister.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked as soon as the door closed behind his nephew.
Becca’s eyes shimmered, and he felt like an asshole as a tear slowly made its way down her cheek. She shuddered and opened her mouth to say something but then closed it without saying a word. There was no need really. Her face pretty much said everything.
Along with the black eye, her bottom lip was split, and there was bruising along the top of one of her cheekbones.
Becca’s eyes fell to his fists, and he forced himself to relax them, running his hands through his hair instead as he stared at his sister.
Jesus. Fuck.
