“Don’t need you, Reilly.” Complete fucking lie.
While he’d never relied on anyone before, for some reason he was relieved she was there. Now was not the time to figure out why.
Matthew stepped out of the room to the right and into the hallway. He stopped when he saw them. “I thought I heard voices.” His lips moved like he was trying to force a smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
His uncle approached them and when he got within a few feet of Rev, he jutted out his hand. While his voice wasn’t cold, it wasn’t warm, either. “Welcome home, Brother Michael.”
He ignored the outstretched hand. “Name’s Rev. You don’t wanna call me that, call me Mickey. Haven’t been Michael since the day I walked out that door behind me.”
In reality, he didn’t walk out that door. He snuck out the back in the middle of the night with only the clothes on his back and a few things tossed into a brown paper bag.
Matthew dropped his hand and his brow furrowed. “Rev? Like reverend? Have you continued on the path of serving God?” The man actually sounded hopeful. Rev was about to smash the shit out of that.
“Fuck no. Short for revenge.”
A nervous laugh bubbled out of Reilly. She pressed a hand to the small of his back and stepped to his side. “Rev like rev an engine since he’s a mechanic.”
Matthew’s eyes fell on the woman by Rev’s side. “And this is?”
Reilly chewed on her bottom lip for the second she glanced up at Rev, then extended her hand to his uncle. “I’m Reilly—“
Rev dropped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, tearing their clasped hands free. “My wife.”
Matthew’s eyes went wide. “Oh, your parents will be pleased to hear you’ve settled down.” Rev’s jaw shifted as his uncle’s eyes dropped to Reilly’s full hips. “Any little ones yet?”
Motherfucker.
“I keep her busy. Four, so far.” He dropped his arm from her shoulders and patted her ass. “She’s a good little breeder.” Reilly choked and he lifted his hand from her ass to pat her on the back. “You good, babe?”
Reilly nodded with one hand on her throat, still unable to talk. A fucking miracle in itself.
“And you didn’t bring them along?” Matthew asked, surprised. “I’m sure your parents would appreciate seeing their grandchildren.”
“Wouldn’t bring my babies around here. They’re safer at home.” Rev lifted one eyebrow. He didn’t give a fuck if his uncle picked up on his meaning or not. In fact, he hoped he did.
“Well… Your mother’s in the kitchen and your father has been in the sitting room ever since he’s been confined to a hospital bed. Who would you like to visit first, Broth… Michael?”
Neither.
“Mickey or Rev,” Rev reminded him.
Matthew tipped his head. “Yes… well. You’ll always be Michael to me. It’s a good strong name.”
Rev leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Don’t give a fuck what you think about that name. It’s no longer mine.”
Matthew went pale and he cleared his throat. “So, um…”
Rev ignored him and glanced around. Nothing had changed. Not one thing since the day he left. A large wooden cross was the only decoration that hung in the narrow hallway that led to the back of the house.
He curled his hand around Reilly’s hip, gave it a little squeeze and guided her past his uncle and down the hallway that ran along the stairway to the second floor.
They might as well deal with his mother first. He didn’t even know if his parents knew he was coming.
“You tell them?” he asked over his shoulder as he continued toward the back of the house.
“No, I… wasn’t sure if you’d show up. I didn’t want to disappoint them if you didn’t.”
Rev doubted they’d be disappointed if they never saw him again. They probably thanked God every day since the day he disappeared.
Since they weren’t expecting his arrival, this would be a surprise family reunion.
Perfect.
When they stepped into the kitchen, his mother was at the stove, he swore wearing the same apron she wore when he was a kid. Her dark blonde hair, now with a few strands of gray, was pulled up into a tight bun and her back was to them.
“Sister Rachel,” Matthew called from behind them.
Rev stood frozen in place, his fingers tightening on Reilly’s hip as the mother he hadn’t seen in about twelve years turned and looked at him. With those few strands of gray hair and the wrinkles lining her make-up free face, she looked a lot older than her forty-six years.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that the way his parents lived their lives had aged them faster than normal. Or at least his mother.
It took her a full second before recognition filled her face. As soon as it did, it turned hard. And about as welcoming as Pastor Thomas’s.
Her blue eyes landed on her brother, who pushed past them to act as a buffer between mother and son.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she asked sharply, wiping her hands on her apron.
Yeah, this would be no loving family reunion. Not even close.
No smile. No tears. Just a frown marred her face. “Why is he here?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Reilly’s face tipped up toward his and her eyes flicking back and forth from him to the woman who gave birth to him.
“I figured it was time for everyone to make peace,” Matthew said to his sister. “It’s time for things to be settled between you all.”
“Didn’t come here to see you,” Rev announced, shooting his uncle’s peace-making efforts to shit.
“Where’s your sister?”
Not “You look great, son,” or “Thank God, you’re alive. We’ve been worried,” or “We’ve missed you so much.”
Nope. That might mean they cared.
Matthew stepped between them, turning to face Rev. “I didn’t get a chance to tell them yet.”
“Sarah’s dead.” No lie was told when he spouted that out without bothering to soften the blow. Sarah had been dead for a long time. It was Saylor who lived in her place now.
He waited for his mother’s reaction to the knowledge that her only daughter was dead. Again, nothing. No tears, no gasp, not even a look of surprise.
She didn’t even ask how Sarah died.
His mother was emotionally frigid. She always had been. But then she’d been married to a man who had controlled her and her thoughts since she was seventeen. Women in their religious order were only allowed to serve God, their fathers and then their husbands. And, of course, bear children.
That was it.
They did not work outside of the home. They did not drive. They didn’t have one damn unique thought.
And sex was not supposed to be enjoyed, it was to be endured only for procreation. A woman who enjoyed sex was a whore. Even though, as many times as Rev was forced to read the bible, he never read anything in the “good book” that said a woman couldn’t enjoy sex.
Because the men sure did. Even with their daughters.
Seeing his mother reminded him what life Saylor would’ve lived if she hadn’t found a way to escape on her own. By acting out and committing crimes.