“Just have her move in to the house with you. You can take over the other wing. I won’t bother you.”
“Judge,” she half huffed, half laughed. “How was your week?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I don’t want to argue. How was your week?” she repeated, putting more strength behind the question.
Putting the phone on speaker, I tossed it on the bench and started unwrapping my hands. “Same bullshit, day after day.”
“Nice to know some things don’t change,” she snickered. “How is Mabel doing?”
“She’s okay, I guess. She spends so much time at Miss Lindy’s that I rarely see her.” Tossing the bloody tape aside, I grabbed my water.
Lyla sucked in a breath. “How is she?”
“Not good,” I muttered. Miss Lindy had always been around, just like Mabel. First, as my preschool teacher and then, later, as Lyla and Ellianna’s. Summer camps, holiday events, were memories that always included Miss Lindy. She was an honorary aunt to all of us, including the other Sons.
When the girls were in middle school, she changed jobs and became their English teacher. Miss Lindy had gotten Elli into the classics, and then I had to watch all the Jane Austen adaptations with her because Lyla wouldn’t—and Elli needed to compare them to the books. She always found them lacking something. I still didn’t understand her fascination with Colonel Brandon.
“Damn.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“She’s going to be my first stop as soon as I get home. I’ll take Barrick and Braxton with me.” She hesitated, but then asked, “Have you spoken to Mom lately?”
My red-flag alert went off. “No, why?”
“She called me about a week ago. Wanted to know if I would be home for Christmas this year.” She laughed dryly. “Stupid question. I’m home every Christmas, but where the fuck is she when the holidays roll around?”
“Last year, it was Paris,” I reminded her. Our mother remembered to text us “Merry Christmas” on New Year’s Day.
My exhausted mind tried to figure out what angle Brenda Bennet was going to attempt to work on my sister or me or both of us.
Asking either of us what our plans were for anything was always a sign she was up to something. But it was still too soon to understand her motives. Hell, she would probably forget about whatever shitshow she was concocting by then. Only time would tell, though.
I would have to make a few calls, check in with her security detail to make sure she was staying out of trouble.
“You sound tired,” Lyla commented a few minutes later, after we’d gone through all our typical conversation topics.
“I just got done with a workout,” I explained. No way in hell was I going to tell my sister what had happened with Ellianna. Lyla would kick my ass—and I would have to let her.
“That’s not your voice when you’re done doing cardio. Or beating on a bag. You sound…off. Are you getting sick?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She made a noise in disbelief. “It’s a migraine, isn’t it? You didn’t get your meds filled?”
“I’m fine, Lyla.”
“I’m calling your doctor and making an appointment for you myself on Monday. You don’t take care of yourself. I swear, you and Howler do nothing but stress me out. Do you live for this shit?”
Sighing, I let her rant for a minute before I cut her off. “Lyla, I said I’m fine.”
“Whatever,” she sassed. “I’m still calling the doctor on Monday. I’ll let Petra know the time.”
“Sure, Lyla,” I gave in. It was just easier when she was in this kind of mood.
“You better go!”
“Yes, Lyla.”
“I love you, you condescending asshole.”
“I love you too, you annoying bitch.”
Her laughter was soothing. “See you soon?”
“You better.”
Chapter 39
Ellianna
Clutching my backpack strap in one hand, I texted rapidly with the other. I was running late, but that was nothing new. It seemed like I was late for everything these days.
Class. Work. Life.
After letting my roommate know I was on my way to meet him for coffee, I rushed down the stairs of the English department building. Only several weeks into the term and most of the students I dealt with as a teacher’s assistant needed extra credit. Or help with a paper. Or to annoy the hell out of me.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I almost brushed my fingers over my neck. Almost. I was getting better at not reaching to feel if my necklace was where it should be. Every time I did and I found it missing, I felt a fresh stab of pain.
Clenching my jaw, I exited the building and turned in the direction of the student café. Students were crowded everywhere. Walking in groups, laughing, having conversations about classes and various other subjects. I heard random voices as I walked past them, weaving around everyone as my short legs ate up the distance to my destination.
And then…I saw him.
Phone to his ear, a glint in his eyes, staring at nothing as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the call. I nearly tripped over the backpack of someone who was sitting at one of the benches along the path.
I hadn’t seen Judge in weeks. Read his texts, yes. Deleted his voice mails without listening to his messages, definitely—except for one. I’d learned my lesson the one and only time I’d given in and played the first message.
“Come home,” he’d barked, and then…nothing. The duration of the call was nearly two minutes, but I’d hung up and deleted it after the first fifteen seconds of strained silence. If I wanted to be tortured, I didn’t need his breathing in my ear to accomplish that.
All I needed was to remember every moment I’d spent imagining Judge felt something more for me. What a joke.
He looked good, leaner maybe, but still good. Not like he’d been pining for me. Missing me. Aching. Not like me, who could barely sleep or focus or live my life.
Someone shifted beside him, and I nearly lifted my hand to wave at Lyla. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her in person. Or heard her voice. I wanted to run over and hug her, ask her a million questions about how life was treating her. Tell her how much I missed her.
But I stayed rooted to the spot. If Judge weren’t with her, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Maybe I would seek her out another day.
I was about to turn and go. It was obvious they were going to the café as well since they were standing right outside the doors. Even though I was thirsty and I needed to eat something soon or risk my stomach revolting, I couldn’t do it.
As far as I knew, my mom hadn’t told Judge I was still in town. If she had, he would have turned up at my front door by now. Maybe. I wanted to think he would, but the likelihood that he had already found my replacement was high.
But I wasn’t ready to face him. And I sure as hell couldn’t have sat down in that small café, with him drinking coffee with his sister just a few tables away.
As if he could feel my gaze on him, Judge shifted his head, his eyes scanning faces until those brown eyes landed on me. His face morphed into something that resembled relief for a split second before it shuttered.