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“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself. Mad at Jack. You haven’t done one thing wrong.” He could feel her taking the words in, running them through that complex brain of hers, probably looking for a way she could still blame herself. He couldn’t stand it.
“Go ahead and punch me,” he said.
Her chin came up, and her teary eyes widened in shock. “I couldn’t ever do that.”
“Sure you could. It’s…what sisters do when their brothers act like jerks.” It wasn’t easy for him to say the words, but he needed to stop acting like a self-centered ass and step up to the plate.
Her lips parted in shock that he might finally be willing to claim her. Hope kindled in her damp eyes. She wanted him to live up to her illusions. “You’re not a jerk.”
He had to get this right, or he couldn’t live with himself. He slipped his arm around her shoulder. Her back stiffened, as if she were afraid to move for fear he’d pull away. She was already beginning to count on him. With a sense of resignation, he drew her closer. “I don’t know how to be a big brother, Riley. I’m pretty much a kid at heart.”
“So am I,” she said earnestly. “I’m a kid at heart, too.”
“I didn’t mean to yell at you. I was just…worried. I know a lot about what you’re going through.” He couldn’t say any more, not now, so he stood and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go check your room for murderers so you can get to sleep.”
“I feel better now. I don’t really think there are any murderers in there.”
“Neither do I, but we’d better check anyway.” An idea came to him, a stupid way to begin making up for some of the pain he’d caused her. “I’ve got to warn you… The big brothers I know are pretty rotten to their sisters.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…They might open their sister’s closet and scream like they really saw a monster in there just to scare her.”
A smile started in Riley’s eyes and played with the corner of her mouth. “You wouldn’t do that.”
He felt himself smiling back. “I might. Unless you beat me to it.”
And she did. She ran ahead of him into the bedroom, screaming all the way. He had himself a sister, whether he wanted one or not.
Puffy joined the melee, and, in the commotion, Dean missed the sound of running feet. The next thing he knew, something hit him in the back, he lost his balance, and fell. As he rolled over, he saw Jack hovering above him, his face twisted with anger. “You leave her alone!”
Jack grabbed Riley, who was now screaming for real while the dog raced in shrill, yipping circles around them. Jack pulled her to his chest. “It’s okay. I won’t let him get near you again. I promise.” He stroked her tangled hair. “We’re getting out of here. Now.”
An unwieldy mix of rage, resentment, and disgust churned inside Dean. This chaos was what currently passed for his life. He came to his feet. Riley clutched Jack’s shirt, gulping for air and trying to talk, but too hysterical to frame the words. The revulsion in Jack’s face gave Dean a queer kind of satisfaction. That’s right. It’s all out in the open now. And right back atcha.
“Get out of here,” Jack said.
Dean wanted to punch him, but Riley still had a death grip on Jack’s shirt. She finally found her voice. “It wasn’t—He’s not—It’s all my fault! Dean saw the—the knife.”
Jack caught her head in his hands. “What knife?”
“I got it…from the kitchen.” She hiccupped.
“What were you doing with a knife?” Jack raised his voice over the noise of the barking dog.
“I was—It was—”
“She was afraid.” Dean wanted the words to fester, but Riley let it all tumble out.
“I woke up and there wasn’t anybody in the house, and I was scared…”
Dean didn’t stay to listen but headed for his bedroom. His shoulder already ached from his fight with Ronnie, and he’d just landed on it again. Two fights in one night. Brilliant. The barking stopped as he popped a couple of Tylenol. He stripped off his clothes, got in the shower, and turned the water on as hot as he could tolerate.
Jack was waiting in the bedroom when he came out. The house was quiet. Riley and Puffy had presumably been tucked in for the night. Jack tilted his head toward the hall. “I want to talk to you. Downstairs.” Without waiting for a response, he left.
Dean threw off his towel and tugged a pair of jeans over his damp legs. It was way past time to have this out.
