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My eyes slammed shut. I didn’t have the energy to breathe, let alone talk.
“What Brad means is that in the end, everything turns out all right.”
“Yes. Because you have to believe that we wouldn’t have made it this far without some sort of help. Mary is fine.” Brad didn’t sound too convinced, but he kept going, “Dad and Mom are looking out for us. And Nat. Nat will pull through. She’s not going to let anything happen to her baby girl.”
My body trembled, and I exhaled a shaky sigh.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
“When will it end?” I didn’t have to explain. My brothers understood.
“Maybe it never will,” Mason admitted quietly. Brad laughed, sarcastic and snarky, and Mason added, “Life is never going to get easy. We’ve lived through so much, and we continue to live through events that shake our world. But maybe it’s meant to be this way … in order to shape us, make us wiser, make sure we never take anything for granted. Make sure we know what’s important, and that’s family.”
“Okay, Vincent van Gogh,” Brad griped.
“You mean, Socrates?” Mason snapped back. “Vincent was a painter.”
I lifted my head, staring at these two.What the fuck?We were at the height of the most hostile situation, yet these two somehow found the time to bicker.
Brad smiled then, meeting my eyes. “Big bro, at the end of the day, at the end of it all and all we’ve been through”—he cupped the back of my neck, bringing me closer—“we’ve got each other.”
My eyes shone with tears. Wasn’t that the truth though? They had been my constant through it all.
I nodded.
And if I was being honest with myself, tragedy had brought us closer. I hated to admit it, and I wasn’t accepting that any tragedy was happening today, but it was still the truth.
When life had been perfect and we’d been relatively untouched, going about our day-to-day, we hardly saw each other. After work, before Natalie’s death and our parents’ deaths, we would only see each other at work. As crazy as it seemed—and though I would not wish tragedy on anyone—we were only closer now because of everything we’d gone through.
The commotion at the front of the house forced my head up as fresh panic had my heart beating frantically. First, three officers emerged and then two more, one carrying a small child.
All at once, we stormed out of the car,stay putwarning be damned.
There was a barricade between the house and the sidewalk, so we couldn’t pass.
“Mary!” Brad shouted.
The officer crossed the barrier, and in the next second, he placed her in my arms. The relief I felt was so overwhelming that it choked me into silence. All I could do was kiss her and hold her tighter. I couldn’t even offer consoling words without the risk of breaking down.
She peered up at me with the bluest of eyes. “I’m hungry, Daddy.”
Then, I laughed. “I’m going to feed you whatever you want, little girl. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” I kissed her forehead again and pulled back. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, seeming shaken but in one piece.
“Where’s Becky?” I asked her, not sure if she’d know but needing details.
Mary’s face became sad. “She left with that mean lady. Her mom is so mean, Daddy. She’s so mean. We have to make sure we don’t let Becky live with her.”
I peered up at the house, the tattered shutters, the worn-down wooden front porch. Through the windows, I could see a dozen officers congregated inside.
Gone? What does she mean, gone?
“Stay with your uncles. I’ll be right back.”
