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Rachel wasn’t as lucky. She had started getting bad grades, hanging out with the wrong kids, and ended up in a car accident, the driver hitting another car head-on during a midnight joy ride.
The sixteen-year-old driver blew a .4% on the breathalyzer.
Bernadette had called Lucas that morning, trying to locate Rachel. Not an uncommon occurrence, but one he took seriously. If for nothing else but to be there for when Rachel walked through the side kitchen door the following morning, hungover and surly.
Bernadette would be so relieved and happy to see her safe and sound, she would hug her, and make her tea. That’s when Lucas would step in, interrogating the troublemaker and berating her for her actions.
Eventually, Grant would show up, taking over the interrogation portion of the morning festivities, making Lucas’s questioning seem benign and ineffectual.
Then, it was that one awful morning when Rachel never made it home. Lucas could remember the look of devastation when Bernadette watched the police officers through her thin cotton curtains, one of which was Grant, walking morosely toward the front door.
Lucas stood behind Bernadette, his hands on her thin, caved shoulders as Grant made his way to the porch. That’s when Bernadette knew. Grant had never entered the house from the formal front door, always the side door to the kitchen.
Before climbing the steps, Grant lifted his head and caught Bernadette watching him through the window, covering her mouth, and fully aware of what was to come.
As he took that first step, she sank to the floor. Lucas catching her in time to break her fall.
There was no way he could go through that pain again or watch someone he loved so dearly go through it. He never wanted to have to ever feel that viselike grip of pain in the dead center of his solar plexus from losing a child. Especially not after a short lifetime of fanatically watching over them; holding their hands when crossing the street or checking on them in the middle of the night when they were running a fever.
It had only been a year since Rachel had died and the pain of her loss was an ongoing ache in his chest. He couldn’t even imagine what Bernadette was going through.
He played the should’ve, would’ve, could’ve game in his head, just as he was sure Grant did.
If only he had spent more time with Rachel, impressing upon her the importance of surrounding herself with the right people. If only he had taken the time to speak with the parents of the kids she had been hanging out with, to see if they could better surveille their whereabouts, concert their parental efforts.
Who knew the outcomes had he lifted his head from the daily grind and paid closer attention to what was going on. To what mattered. But there was only so much time. One of the reasons he kept most people at distance, few within his inner circle. He only had so much time to properly protect and care for the ones he loved.
Instead, he was left with the bittersweet memories of Rachel as a baby, who would hold on tight to his ears and gnaw on his chin with her tender gums, and then chortle with glee when he managed to break loose.
Now, his most recent memories were of he and Grant as Rachel’s pallbearers.
His head lifted as the front door swung open.
Grant.
The only person with a key to his house and who never knocked before entering.
He was in uniform and looked beat.
Where Lucas was tall and lean with dark hair and an olive complexion, Grant was broad shouldered and muscular, with wheat-blond hair and skin that required sunscreen on the reg.
“Hey, man,” Grant said, taking a seat at the counter. “What’s for breakfast?”
Lucas lowered his voice. “Keep it down. I’ve got a houseguest sleeping.”
His brother’s eyes rose as he whispered with a grin. “You… have a houseguest? Seriously?”
Okay, so he was known for being fanatically discreet.
“Not that kind of houseguest.” He sipped his coffee, allowing the high-octane caffeine to do its job.
Grant’s brows furrowed. “So the rumors are true?”
Great, there were rumors.
Lucas scratched the bridge of his nose. “What rumors?”
“That Birdie Wellborn is your baby-mama and she’s extorting you for twenty years of child support.”
