Brother’s Best Friend

by Black, Natasha L.

  “Then, one of us can stay with you at your place until you’re better.”

  “I can help, too. I’m sure she’ll want her independence back.”

  “Dad’s already been talking with the school about what happened.”

  “They’re working with me on it.”

  “Layla, you’re going to be okay.”

  “We’ll help you get through this.”

  “Son of a fucking bitch,” Cole hissed.

  I heard him storm back into the room, and all eyes turned to him.

  “What? What is it?” I asked.

  “It was mom’s car. And before you ask, I’ve already called the cops,” he said.

  The beat of silence between all of us lasted an eternity. But the second my father’s voice filled the room, my heart rate ticked up. My father was a kind and peaceful man, sturdy and foundational.

  Until you messed with his children.

  “Your fucking mother did this?” he bit.

  “Hank, take a breath,” Mom said.

  “Hell, no, I’m not taking a breath. That bitch almost killed my daughter. Are you sure it was her car?”

  “Dad, now’s not the time,” Lance said.

  “I’m going to wring her neck. I’m going to sue that woman for all she’s worth in court. Do you hear me?” Dad roared.

  “Please, stop,” I whispered.

  Everyone talked around me, drowning out my tears. My chest jumped as the nurse tried to soothe me, checking my vitals and toggling with my IV. I grew weary at all the voices bickering around me.

  “Was it on purpose?”

  “Was she drunk?”

  “Who the hell is drunk on a Sunday morning?”

  “Satan, that’s who.”

  “She’s mine, do you hear me?”

  “Everyone, calm the fuck down.”

  “Is she drinking again? You better not lie to me, boy.”

  “I’m just as pissed about this as you are, Hank.”

  “Everyone shut up!” the nurse exclaimed.

  I jumped at the sound of her voice, and my soft sobs filled the room. Everyone ran to my side, but I pulled away, curling myself up as much as I could. I closed my eyes and sobbed. I whimpered as I turned my face away from everyone. I heard them saying my name as softly as they could, calming their voices down and trying to soothe my rapid heart rate back down to regular levels.

  “Please, everyone. Just leave,” I choked out.

  “Layla, I’m sorry. Please, it’s just—”

  “Now,” I whispered.

  Lance cleared his throat. “Come on, guys. We can take this out into the waiting room. My sister needs some sleep.”

  “Sweetheart, we’ll be right out here. Okay? Can you hear me?” Dad asked.

  “Shut up, Hank. Your yelling got us into this mess in the first place,” Mom hissed.

  I felt a pair of lips come down against my forehead, and I sighed. His nose nuzzled against me as more tears fell from my eyes. I felt the pain medication taking over, that warm sensation slowly pulling me under. My heart rate evened out, and my breathing became steady. And just before he left, I felt his lips hovering against the shell of my ear.

  “I’ll be back soon. I promise,” Cole murmured.

  25

  Cole

  I stormed out of the hospital, steam practically spewing from my ears. I didn’t stop moving until I hopped into my truck, ready to crank that shit up and blaze a fiery trail toward my childhood home. I really wanted to be wrong. I wanted so badly to be wrong about all of it. Maybe someone else in town had the same car. I mean, how common was a dark blue Lexus? I raced across town, talking myself out of all the things it could possibly boil down to. Maybe someone from out of town had fallen asleep behind the wheel of the car. Maybe someone had been test-driving a car. Maybe Layla had remembered incorrectly.

  But when I pulled into the driveway of my family’s estate, I saw that she’d been right.

  Cop cruisers flashed their lights as I pulled up behind them. I saw my mother’s car sitting in the middle of the smoothed concrete, with glass trailing behind it. One of her tires was flat. The rim had been completely bent and broken. The front end was smashed in, the windshield had all but busted out, and fluids were leaking from the bottom of the car, trailing toward my truck as it marked its guilty territory.

  “I’m going to kill her,” I murmured.

  I hopped out of my truck and took off in a dead sprint toward the front door of the mansion. And the only reason why I didn’t get inside so I could take my mother’s arms and shake her furiously was because three police officers came out of nowhere and held me back,

  My eyes darted around. I searched for her, anxious for an explanation.

  But I had my answer when the front door opened.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  A police officer had my mother in handcuffs. As they helped her down the stairs, I saw the damage to her face. The black eye, the broken lip. She walked with a limp and kept stumbling around, almost like she couldn’t keep herself upright.

  Oh, no.

  “I need a few minutes with her,” I said.

  “Not until you calm down,” the officer said.

  “I’m calm. But if you leave here with her before I get a chance to ask her something, I’ll be following you all the way back to the precinct with a lawyer in tow.”

  As I stared him down, he finally nodded.

  “Two minutes,” he said.

  “That’s all I need.”

  I stared toward my mother, watching as her eyes slowly came to mine. They were bloodshot. Puffy. Like she’d been crying.

  Or drinking.

  “Cole,” she said softly.

  I held up my hand. “Did you do it on purpose, Holly?”

  I couldn’t even call her Mom anymore. Not after everything she’d already pulled. I saw pain in her eyes. Loneliness. I watched her struggle, but I didn’t care. Because the only answer that mattered was the one she didn’t give me.

  Instead of owning up to what she did, she simply looked away.

  “That’s all I needed to know. Get her the hell out of here,” I said.

  The officer shoved her into the back of the cruiser, helping her dip her head. When she fell to the seat, I watched her heave, her eyes closed. Her chest jumped. Then, an exorcism practically took place in the back of that car. I covered my nose with my arm. The police officer grimaced before he groaned to himself.

  “It’s always the drunk ones,” he murmured.

  “So, she is intoxicated,” I said.

  “You can’t smell it?”

  “I suppose, at one point in time, I got used to it.”

  He sighed. “We found her passed out in the living room. She’s got plenty of empty bottles in there, too. Still not dried out from sitting there. So, my guess is they’re pretty fresh.”

  “Like from this morning?”

  He paused. “That’s what it looks like.”

  Son of a fucking bitch.

  “I had no idea she’d gone back to drinking,” I murmured.

  “She been sober?” the officer asked.

  “Almost ten years now.”

  “You know what triggered it?”

  I sighed as reality dawned on me.

  “We just buried my sister not too long ago,” I said.

  “That’ll do it. Thanks for the information. It’ll all be taken into account, but my guess is it won’t do much once she gets in front of a judge.”

  “I’ll be down to the precinct to see her soon. Let her know that, would you?”

  “Yep. Will do.”

  I stood there and watched as crime scene investigators combed over my mother’s car. Finally, the police car hauled her away, with her head pressed heavily against the glass. Part of me shook with fury, ready to toss her to the dogs and let the justice system deal with her swiftly. And on the other hand, she was a mother grieving, just like the rest of us were grieving.

  That doesn’t excuse
her actions, though.

  I sighed heavily and turned to face the house. The front door hung open, almost beckoning me to come inside. I hadn’t stepped foot in that place since I was eighteen, when I’d left for college, then dropped out to start my own business, effectively spitting in the face of the entire family. Or so my mother said. I felt a tug toward the stoop. Up the steps. Into the doorway. And as an investigator passed by me, the smell of alcohol sat thick in the air.

  “Shit,” I murmured.

  For the first time in almost fourteen years, I stepped foot inside that place. It looked as immaculate as ever, too. The massive chandelier strung up from the ceiling with chains that looked like dainty string. The checkered marble floors, making me dizzy as ever as I made my way for the grand staircase that ran up the middle of the massive foyer, emptying out into a loft before guiding people down a hallway.

  I sighed as I made my way up the stairs.

  My hand slid along the wrought iron banister as colors reflected in my vision. Blacks and whites. Crystal and silver. Pops of color hung on the walls as I passed original Degas and Van Goghs while walking up the stairs. Art I’d become accustomed to seeing. Millions of dollars’ worth of artistry and sculptures peppered the second floor of the mansion. I walked down the hallway, headed straight for the sunlight-filled windows that gazed out onto the back lawn.

  And I gasped at how overgrown things had become.

  It felt weird behind back. And oddly enough, the weeds and tangled bushes of the once-groomed backyard were a perfect metaphor for how this family had turned out. On the outside, put together and groomed, tailored perfectly to society’s view. But in the back where no one could see? We were mangled. Distraught. Dark, and dangerous, and filled with treachery. I placed my hand against the window. I watched as the natural darkness of the backyard settled heavily over the rest of the lawn. It was almost as if the earth dimmed itself toward such ugliness.

  I wonder if me taking Millie started her drinking.

  I shook my head. My mother was a damn adult. She did this to herself. No matter what prompted it, she should’ve reached out for help if she needed it. She’d made it almost ten years. She could’ve reached out to anyone in her circle and confided in them.

  No. Mom—Holly—had to accept responsibility for this.

  “Your key, Mr. Yarrow.”

  I paused at the sound of the voice. I slowly turned around, watching as a rickety, hunched man came into view. My jaw fell open in shock. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  “Johnson?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s been many years, Mr. Yarrow.”

  I shook my head. “Mr. Yarrow was Dad. You know you can always call me Cole.”

  “I’d never dream of it. Especially when addressing the man of the house.”

  I paused. “What?”

  He handed me a key to the front door. “Who else do you think this belongs to now? Your father passed many years ago. Your sister’s gone. Your mother will most certainly end up behind bars, stripping her of the rights to this place. The estate will fall to you now, Mr. Yarrow.”

  “Cole.”

  But all Johnson did was smile.

  He took my hand and plopped the key into my palm. Then, he folded my fingers over it. He gave it a nice tap before turning around, shuffling his way down the hallway. Always clad in a tuxedo. Always with a smile on his face. Holy shit, that man had been old when I was growing up? He had to be in his eighties now, at least.

  “Johnson,” I said.

  “Yes, Mr. Yarrow?”

  “You’re free to go, if you want.”

  He paused. “To go?”

  “Live your life. Enjoy retirement. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of for the rest of your days.”

  He chuckled. “Mr. Yarrow, I am living my life. Right here, in the only place I’ve ever called home.”

  I smiled at his words.

  “Lock up before you leave. I’m certainly not your mother,” he said.

  I laughed. “I definitely will.”

  “You look splendid, by the way, Mr. Yarrow.”

  “And you look like you haven’t aged a bit!”

  His laughter followed him until he fell out of sight. And as I stood there, with a key to the front door burning a hole in my hand, I smiled. For the first time in almost two decades, I actually smiled while standing in this great, big mansion my father had worked so hard to build.

  Then, with a deep breath in, I made my way downstairs to do exactly what Johnson asked me to do.

  26

  Layla

  I knew I’d only been in the hospital a day, but damn it, I wanted out of that bed. I was tired of being fed. Tired of the catheter. Tired of not moving around and being poked and prodded and fussed after. I knew I had to stay at least one more day. Maybe more, depending on how I responded to lower doses of pain medication. While they’d taken me successfully off the morphine drip late last night, I still needed hospital-level doses of oxycodone in order to keep the pain tolerable.

  I miss Ace.

  I missed a lot of things, really. My bed. My apartment. That cramped little balcony I always cursed whenever I stubbed my toe on the wrought iron railing. I focused on my apartment, so I didn’t have to focus on my car. Because try as I might, the second I thought about it, my heart rate went through the roof. The idea of replacing it made me sick. It would easily drain half of the savings I’d built up over the years. It’d set me back in terms of repaying student debt. Christmas definitely wouldn’t be as extravagant as it’d been in the past.

  Deep breaths, Layla. Come on.

  I wasn’t short on visitors, though. I’d had a steady stream of them ever since Cole left yesterday. Nicole came by with hospital-approved dinner. Cole interrupted our dinner with a phone call, apologizing that he couldn’t get back to the hospital. I wasn’t upset, though. He had Millie to look after, and I didn’t want that poor little girl seeing me in this kind of condition.

  Plus, Lance pretty much had a monopoly on my time.

  He stayed in the room with me last night, waking up every time a nurse came in and making sure I was comfortable. Neither of us slept well, but it was a comfort to look over and see him snoozing in the corner. Mom and Dad came by one at a time that morning. Between taking care of Ace and fielding the insurance company, one of them had to always be at the house. They were taking care of a great deal for me, and I was thankful for it.

  But once Mom and Dad left, Lance went down to the cafeteria. I finally got him out of the room to get himself some coffee because he looked like the walking dead, with bags underneath his eyes, his hair disheveled, and his two-day-old clothes finally starting to smell like him. He needed caffeine, and I needed the silence.

  Minus the beeping machines, of course.

  But Lance had been gone for almost an hour, and I’d been alone and bored too long, which started my mind turning. If I could get my leg out of this swing and get the damn IV out of the top of my hand, I stood a chance at escaping. I just needed a wheelchair, a diversion, and—

  “Layla!”

  Millie’s voice pierced my thoughts, and my eyes widened. I watched her rush through the hospital door, and every part of me locked up. What was she doing here? Where the fuck was Cole? My eyes darted around, trying to find him as Millie scrambled onto my bed.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What did I tell you in the truck?” Cole asked.

  “That I could come if I was careful,” Millie said.

  “Exactly.”

  I eyed him hotly. “Cole?”

  But all he did was smile. “Layla. You look a bit livelier than yesterday.”

  “What is she doing here?” I whispered.

  He shrugged. “She wanted to bring you these.”

  He set some flowers down on my bedside table, and I shook my head.

  “Do you like the flowers?” Millie asked.

  Cole grinned. “Yeah, Layla. Do you like the flowers?”

  Oh, you’re so using Milli
e to get to me. “I love the flowers, Millie. Thank you so much for them.”

  “Uncle Cole helped me get them,” she said.

  “I bet he did,” I murmured.

  Cole chuckled. “Don’t forget the other present.”

  “What other present?” I asked.

  “Oh! Yeah. Hold on,” Millie said.

  She slipped off the edge of my hospital bed and rushed around behind Cole. I saw her work something out of his back pocket, and then she rushed back over to me. It was something fluffy—a stuffed animal of some sort. And when she finally planted back beside me, she held it up with a smile on her face.

  “Ta da!” she exclaimed.

  I giggled. “Well, well, well, what do we—hey. That looks like—”

  “Ace! It looks like Ace. That’s why I wanted to get it. So Ace is here and there, too.”

  My eyes fell to the stitched-up leg before I looked up at Cole. He shrugged, then pulled up a chair and sat down beside me. Millie planted the dog directly against my chest. Which was about the only part of my body that didn’t hurt right now.

  “She had to cut off the leg to really make it look like him,” he said

  “Yeah. Ace only has three legs, Uncle Cole.”

  I smiled. “That’s right. But does it hold him back?”

  “No, it doesn’t!” she exclaimed.

  I reached my good arm out and hugged Millie. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then watched as she scrambled off my bed again. Cole stood up, leaning over me as his lips pressed against mine. And when he pulled back, I found his eyes filling with anguish.

  “I’m so sorry, Layla…”

  I reached up with my right hand and cupped his cheek. A tear slipped down his skin, and I brushed it away with my thumb. I kissed the tip of his nose. I let his forehead fall against mine. I felt Millie put her hand on my right leg, squeezing me softly to let me know she was there. It made me smile. But the pain in Cole’s eyes made my chest hurt.

  “I don’t blame you at all. Okay?” I asked.

  He sniffled. “I should’ve—I don’t know, checked in on her. Followed you home. Something.”

  “Hey, hey, hey. Cole. Come on now. Listen to yourself.”