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I laughed, but just waited until he sighed and started in. “I got a call ten minutes ago. Your sister’s being released from county in an hour.”
I cursed, finishing exactly what he thought I was doing and washing up before unmuting myself. “I didn’t think about the time difference. She’s being released at five?”
“They start the discharges then. It’ll depend on how many others are being released and where she falls in the line.”
I’d known this day was coming. It’d just come sooner than I wanted.
He read my silence right. “Sorry, man. Have you talked to Will? How are the kids doing with him?”
“Oh, you know. He’s a Broudou. He’s a fucking chatterbox.”
Channing snorted. “What? It’s your day off there, right? So you’re going in at nine?”
“Watch yourself, Monroe. You almost made me smile there.”
“Wouldn’t want that.” He got serious. “I got time today. I can run by your brother’s and check in with him, see what he’s thinking of doing moving forward.”
I considered it. “I’ll call him and piss him off. Then you go in—”
“I’ll offer a sympathetic shoulder where he can unload what an asshole his big pro-football brother is and always has been, who doesn’t have the decency to reach out after he’s hit the big leagues. What a dick, right?”
“You’re quick to this role.”
“That’s me. Actor extraordinaire.”
I fought against rolling my eyes.
“Yeah,” I grunted, heading out to the kitchen and starting the coffee. “He might be willing to be up front with you about what he needs.”
“I gotta ask. If the kids want to go back with her—”
“They don’t. I know my niece well enough. If she did, she wouldn’t have called. Stevie’s tough as nails.”
He was quiet for a beat. “And if Will doesn’t want to fight your sister?”
“They come here.” It wasn’t the best answer for the situation, but the kids weren’t going into the system, and fuck my sister, because a week ago she’d stopped being able to keep the kids clothed, fed, watered, and with a shelter over their heads.
“Give me a rundown on the kids. You’ve never asked me to watch them for you.”
“Stevie’s the oldest. She watches over the two younger ones. She’s fourteen and total opposite her mother. She hates Shannon, but loves her mother, if that makes sense. The other two are eleven and eight. George and Sammy. He’s sensitive, and Sammy’s, she’s a sweet, wild one.”
He was quiet again. “Sammy?”
I bit out a laugh. “That’s how it’s spelled on the birth certificate.”
“Jesus Christ.”
There was a creak from the stairs, and I watched as Billie appeared, all tentative like. My shirt fell to the tops of her thighs, and she had one arm across herself, her other hand tugging at the end of my shirt. Her eyes still had their softness from sleep.
She looked good enough to be my breakfast.
I settled back against the counter and held out an arm, waiting as she fit herself against me, right where she was always supposed to be. The perfect fit. “My woman’s here,” I told Channing. “Can you wrap this up?”
He laughed. “Are you wrapping it up? That’s the more pertinent questi—”
“I’ll give Will a call and signal you when to sweep in.” I ended the call, ignoring his laughter and dropped the phone on the kitchen island. “Morning.” I shifted, bending down to pick Billie up.
She squeaked before catching herself, her arms on my shoulders as I placed her on the counter. I slid my hands down her legs, moving them apart and stepped between them. She was at the edge of the counter.
