AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her parents might be passive, meek people afraid of their own shadows, but at least she still had them in her life. She also still had her sisters.
Jordan had nobody.
He hadn’t spoken to his brother in years because Aiden carried more guilt with him than Jordan had the energy to unpack, and their parents were lost in their own world. They couldn’t understand that what Jordan did was right, despite the fact that it was his father.
Right was right and wrong was wrong.
End of story.
Just because the person who committed the crime was your kin, the man who gave you life, didn’t mean that when he broke the law you turned a blind eye and pretended it didn’t happen. It didn’t mean that you covered up that crime.
Blood or no blood, a crime was a crime. Particularly the crime that his father committed.
But it wasn’t just his parents that disowned him. It was the rest of his family, too.
Both sides.
It was the entire town—or most of it anyway.
Old Gary Lassiter was a town hero, or at least that’s the way his friends saw him.
But Jordan saw his father as a useless piece of shit. A drunk. A man who would take Jordan and Aiden out hunting, get so shit-faced that Aiden would have to drive them home. The earliest this started happening was when Aiden was eight and Jordan was six. And it went on until they were teenagers.
Their mother worked long hours at the care home for seniors and didn’t want to hear about the boys’ complaints of their father’s drinking.
“He hasn’t laid a hand on you, so quit your complaining,” she’d say. “My father used to beat my mother and me until we were bloody. Be thankful your father isn’t like that when he drinks. Take the good with the bad. He provides for you. He deserves to relax once in a while.”
And to the town, Gary was a great guy. The best mayor they ever had.
Nobody believed Jordan and Aiden when they tried to tell the truth. So eventually, they just stopped telling it. They banded together and made sure that their father never drove drunk—until one day they took the keys with them before they went to work—Jordan at the sawmill, his brother at the grocery store—while their father was passed out on the sofa. If he didn’t have his keys, he couldn’t drive.
Jordan would never forgive himself for what happened that day. And as hard as he tried to forget it, as deep as he thought he’d buried those memories, they were like a ghost with unfinished business, haunting him day and night.
The sliding glass door opened again and the voices of seven children drew Jordan from his darkening thoughts.
“We’re hungry and the grownups are being weird,” Thea, Chase and Stacey’s daughter said. She was seven, like Zane, and an absolute pistol. Then again, she was a pistol and a true force to be reckoned with when Jordan first met her when she was three. And it didn’t seem like her spark had gone out at all since he last saw her. “Nana Joy just keeps singing, ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’and Uncle Rex asked me how much tin foil I thought he’d need to keep the aliens from reading his thoughts.”
“Oh Jesus,” Rayma muttered. “Inside, all of you. Jordan, put a movie on for the kids, please. Somethingnotscary.”
“On it,” he said with a nod, grateful to be not only distracted from those dark thoughts that had invaded his mind a moment ago but to also have Rayma’s attention diverted, as well.
He knew if he wanted her back, she’d make him circle back to this, but for now, they were all distracted and that was a good thing.
Abandoning the dishes, he led the mass of children into the living room where they all got comfortable on the sofas, floor, and chairs. His phone was still synced to Joy and Grant’s Chromecast, and he had Netflix, so he cast a movie to the television and soon the children were happily engrossed in some brightly-colored animated film.
“We’re still hungry,” Thea called after him as he started to head to the kitchen. “Some chips or pretzels would be appreciated. Perhaps some crackers and cheese, or some pepperoni? Maybe a small fruit platter?”
Chuckling, Jordan shot her a look over his shoulder. She was grinning like the little blonde sassy pants that she was. “I’ll see what I can rustle up, Miss Thea.”
“Thanks, Lassie, you’re the best.”
“Debatable,” Rayma muttered when he entered the kitchen again.
A second later, when Jordan was gathering the plates and cutlery, Connor, Chase and Stacey’s son emerged through the kitchen door. “I’m not into the movie, can I help with dinner?”
“Sure can, kiddo,” Rayma said. “You can help Lassie set the table, then you can supervise him while he cuts Brussels sprouts. Lydia normally does the roasted sprouts, but since she’s high as—I mean, since she’s not feeling well, it’s up to us.” She bunched her brow. “Then again, maybeyoushould cut the sprouts and Lassie can just watch.” She grinned like a brat at Jordan. “We don’t want to risk another injury, right?”
Chapter 13
