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Silas pulled his bike up to the curb first, followed shortly by Loki, and then me.
I kicked the stand down and stood, stretching my joints out one by one before taking a step up on the sidewalk.
“Jesus, couldn’t you have worn a shirt or something? It’s cold as hell out.” I eyed Loki.
Loki smiled. “Somebody’s gotta look like the crazy one. I figure all my tattoos will help. That and my scars make me look manly.”
“Silas, why’d you sponsor this joker again?” I quipped as we walked up to the front door.
“Because he can break a man’s arm in five places in less than three seconds.” Silas said instantly, making us both chuckle.
My eyes went from the front door to the house beside Mr. Jefferson Samuel Sheffield’s to see an old lady nearly falling out of her wheel chair as she got a load of us.
“We’ve got company,” I whispered.
“Already taken care of.” Silas said in his authoritative way that only dared them to question him.
We didn’t.
Silas grunted as he knocked sedately on the door, and the man that answered the door moments later was well and truly...disturbing.
He looked like a douchebag, pure and simple.
Dressed in a pair of creased jeans and a polo shirt with the collar cocked like a real winner, he had the same dark hair as his sisters’ but his skin was craggy, and he twitched like he was coming down from a high.
“Can I help you guys?” Jefferson asked warily.
Good, he knew who we were. Now to tell him who belonged to us.
“Yes, you sure can.” Silas said as we pushed our way through the door.
• • •
I arrived home a couple hours later to find Adeline in bed, her hands wrapped closely around her knees.
“Oh, Kettle,” she whimpered brokenly as she raised a hand up to her cheek and dashed away the falling tears. “Oh, God. Kettle, I’m so sorry.”
I looked over at her in confusion.
“What?” I asked.
She held up the letter for me to see, and I suddenly became furious.
“Did I tell you to read my personal letters?” I bellowed.
She’d been in the process of crawling out of bed, but abruptly sat back down on her ass hard and looked at me in surprise.
“No,” she said hesitantly. “But I found it next to the keys. I was going to go buy some Christmas presents, but then I remembered you told me I couldn’t leave without someone with me. So I hung the keys back up and saw that. I thought it was a letter from you, so I opened it and I just...”
I suddenly didn’t care.
I didn’t want her to know that ugly part of my life. Didn’t want her to know my greatest shame. And she’d stolen that option from me by butting into my business.
“When I leave, I expect you to get your shit and go. I’ll call Trance to come pick you up. Leave the key on the table.”
Without saying another word, I left. Snatched my keys from the hook and left.
I knew I was being unfair. Completely and utterly unfair, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around that. That moment that was most likely described in that letter was the lowest point in my life. It changed the course of my life, and left me with such a bitter taste in my mouth that I could barely function for the next year. My brain went back to those dark times, and I couldn’t claw my way back out.
