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“I know nothing about women’s menstrual cycles, and I don’t want to learn this morning.”
“Well, you woke me up, so I’m going to include you in some of our finding-outs here. Girls usually start their periods when they’re twelve or thirteen. Some get it when they’re eleven. Our niece got it when she was thirteen, and she’s only had it three times, so to her, it just made sense to roll up a bunch of toilet paper. She didn’t know about tampons and pads. Do you know that I now know eight different brands of tampons? And sizes. They have different sizes. And different colors. And the colors don’t coordinate with the same sizes. A regular on one brand might be blue when a regular on another brand might be pink. They have super size and super-plus sizes. Super fucking plus sizes, for my niece. At first, that made me think it was the size of—”
“Oh my God! Shut up.”
“—something else. I didn’t want to be educated that it’s about her flow, which is how much—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
His voice was rising and cracking, and so was mine.
I had to get him to stop talking. “I’m going to hang up,” I threatened.
“No, you’re not. You’re not going to hang up, because the reason you called me, and the reason you have Channing Monroe showing up at odd times and places, is because you’re checking up on us. And now that I’ve clued in to him, I’m realizing you’ve had him checking up on me for a long time, so no, Brett. Brother. You’re not going to hang up, because you’re in this whether you want me to know or not.”
He stopped talking, finally, and it was my turn to let out a bunch of threats and curses and ominous promises about what would happen if he didn’t stop talking about women things.
“Things?”
“You know what I mean,” I said hotly. “You’re saying you’re in?”
“I’m in. We’re in. Fuck you for bringing this fight to my doorstep, but we’re all the way in. Harmony’s talked to a lawyer. With your permission, I’d like Monroe to share everything he has on our sister. I know she’s got a record, but she’s had the kids this long, so there’s a reason. I’m going to find that reason, and I’m going to obliterate it. Sammy had no idea what broccoli was, or green beans, or lettuce. Apparently at school, she gets chicken nuggets and brownies. She had no idea that we’re supposed to get three full meals a day, and the last meal isn’t a box of Pop-Tarts being shared on the couch.” He stopped, and when he started again, his voice broke. “We found her hiding under the bed, because apparently that’s where she was told to sleep so she was always hiding if the ‘bad guy’ came into her room. And when I asked who the bad guy was, she didn’t know because they always changed. We caught Stevie two seconds from leaving to do something stupid so she could get arrested and go to jail, because she thought she’d go to the same one where her mom is, or was, to hurt Shannon. Apparently, Shannon is the one who had the foresight to look out for her eight-year-old daughter by telling her to hide from the men she brings home at night. Yeah, we’re in. She’s not getting these children until they’re of age and of mind to decide they want to have a one-on-one relationship with her. And I will do my damndest to make sure that when and if that happens, they are equipped with all the skills they need to handle her.”
He ran out of breath, or he was trying to calm himself. Either way, he went quiet.
“If you need anything—”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t mean this as an insult, but I’ll be damned if I take money for this fight,” he said. “We do well. We can financially handle this battle, and if we need to dip into emergency funds, Harmony’s parents are wealthy. They are also in absolute love with Stevie, Georgie, and Sammy.”
“Georgie?”
“It’s his preferred name. He wants to go with the status quo of a name ending in an -ie or -y.”
I snorted. “That mean I can call you Will—”
“When Channing Monroe calls or conveniently shows up where I’ve stopped to fill my vehicle with gas, or get food at a grocery store that’s forty minutes out of his way, or who knows what excuse he’ll have—am I right in requesting that he send me all the information he’s obtained on our sister over the years?”
I fought back a smile. “Think I liked you better when you didn’t talk to me.”
“Brett.”
“Yeah. I’ll shoot him a text. When he checks in on you today, knowing him, he’ll probably have everything ready for you.”
“That would be appreciated. Now, is there anything else to talk about? Because I’d really like to try to get thirty more minutes of sleep so I can round my sleep tally up to three hours before tackling the shitstorm the rest of the day will be.”
“No. There’s nothing el—”
He ended the call.
I stared at the phone, a sense of wonder coming over me. Who had that been? That’d not been the half-brother I remembered from school, getting a glimpse of him at sporting events when Roussou played Fallen Crest or from the very, very few holidays when our dad got a hankering for all his kids to be under the same roof. That hadn’t lasted long. Will stopped coming after three holidays.
“Was it a good phone call?”
Billie was in the doorway, still looking delectable and holding a coffee.
“Yeah.” That surprised me. “I think it was.”
“Good.”
