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“Bree got her period.”
Oh,hell. Sloane brushed her free hand over her rumpled sleep shirt to rest over the ache suddenly spreading out from her sternum. “Has she ever had it before?”
Gavin let out a quick, cheerless laugh. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never gotten her, you know, stuff to take care of it or anything. So, no. Right?”
“Right.” Keeping some well-worn clothing from him was one thing, but there was no way Bree could hide needing feminine supplies from her brother, no matter how mortifying she’d find asking. This had to be the first time. “Where is she right now?”
Gavin paused, and even though he cleared his throat, his words still came out hoarse and strained. “She’s locked in the bathroom, crying her eyes out. I wouldn’t bother you, but she won’t let me help her, and I don’t know what else to do.”
Sloane was halfway down the hall before her reply was all the way out of her mouth.
“Tell her to hang tight. I’ll be right there.”
* * *
Sixteen minutesand a backpack full of supplies later, Sloane climbed the steps to the porch to find Gavin waiting with the door open.
“She’s still in the bathroom. I told her you were coming, but she didn’t answer me.”
“Okay. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll give it a shot.” She tipped the bag from her shoulder to take off her coat. In her haste to leave the bungalow, she’d slapped a pair of flannel lounge pants beneath her Yankees sleep shirt and called herself dressed, but if Gavin noticed her lack of proper attire, he gave no indication.
“Okay, yeah.”
Sloane flipped the backpack open, rummaging with determined fingers until she found what she was looking for. “First things first. This will help.”
Gavin passed a confused stare from the item in her hand up to her face. “Bree’s thirteen,” he reminded her with a look that suggested she’d lost her faculties. She kept the bottle of Tito’s extended anyway, lifting a sardonic brow.
“It’s not for her, boss. Go grab a glass. You look like you could use a stiff drink.”
The weariness etched on his face slipped, but only by a tiny degree. “Oh. Right.”
Sloane propped the backpack all the way over her shoulder again. “Trust me, you got the most fun thing in the bag.” She turned toward the hallway, but Gavin stopped her with a gravelly whisper.
“She’s going to be okay, right? I mean, dealing with this with just me around.”
Sloane’s heart smacked against her rib cage, but she forced her voice into her standard glib demeanor. “She’s going to be fine.” She let a smile ghost over her lips in an effort to reassure him, hoping it would do enough to calm them both, and gave him arm a quick squeeze. “Whether or notyoumake it, well, that’s a different story.”
By the time she got to the end of the hallway, however, Sloane’s signature bravado had pulled a disappearing act. Pure impulse had sent her out the door of her bungalow twenty minutes ago, and it had auto-piloted her back here before she could register the gravity of the task at hand. But now that she stood in Gavin’s hallway, wearing her pajamas and armed with nothing more than her waning moxie and a jumbo box of maxi pads, the idea of having The Talk with Bree was pretty freaking daunting.
Maybe she should try to coach Gavin through it instead. After all, he was Bree’s guardian, herbrother,who had known her for all of her life. While Sloane might be better versed on the firsthand particulars, having a welcome-to-womanhood talk with a sullen, scared preteen she’d known for two weeks was way beyond her comfort zone.
A sheen of nervous perspiration formed on her temples. She really was the last person on the planet who should be offering advice, and anyway, Gavin was only relying on her because he had no one else to ask. She could talk him through the basics well enough. Honestly, setting her loose on Bree without the big-brother filter might do more harm than good.
A loud sniffle sounded from the other side of the door, and every trace of Sloane’s hesitance bit the dust.
“Bree? It’s me. Um, Sloane.” She scooped in a steadying breath that did nothing to calm her. “I brought you a couple of things. Do you want to let me in so I can give them to you?”
“O-okay.” Muffled movement sounded from behind the door, followed closely by a hard click. “It’s open.”
Sloane nudged her way past the door, whispering it closed right behind her. Bree sat on the bathmat with her back pressed against the tub and her knees under her chin, and Sloane’s heart double-knotted in her chest.
“Hey.” She placed the backpack on the floor and gestured to the unoccupied half of the navy blue bathmat. “Mind if I sit?”
Bree shrugged, but scooted over to make room. Sloane wedged herself against the bathtub, the coolness of the porcelain seeping through her thin shirt to ground her. She could do this.
She had to. Even if she had no ideahowto.
“Listen, I’m not quite sure of the best way to have this conversation, but I’m sure you have questions that you think are embarrassing.”
