Brothers in Blue: The Complete Trilogy: Brothers in Blue Boxed Set - Books 1-3

by Jeanne St. James

The kitchen had to be one of the biggest rooms in the house. The backyard was long and narrow, adequately fenced for the dog. The part Amanda loved the most was the sunroom that appeared to have been recently added to the deck in the back.

  Amanda returned to the kitchen to check on Greg. Maybe she shouldn’t have left him for so long. Or at least should have given him a napkin. As she helped him wipe the tomato soup off his clothes, she quizzed him, trying to find out what he could do and not do.

  Around ten p.m., after Greg watched, according to him, one of his “favorite” programs, she went up with him to his room.

  “I see you’re a NASCAR fan, Greg.”

  “Love NASCAR. Love racing! I’m gonna be a race car driver.”

  “Let me guess. Tony Stewart is your favorite driver.”

  Greg squealed excitedly. “How’d you know?”

  Amanda looked around the bedroom, which was full of the number-fourteen posters, model cars, and memorabilia. She pulled down the Stewart bedspread. Hmm, how did she know?

  “Can you take it from here? Can you get ready for bed?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, night, Greg.”

  “’Manda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I get a hug?”

  “You bet, Bud.” His hug wasn’t so bone crushing this time. “Night, Buddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Night, ‘Manda.”

  Amanda headed back downstairs. She went directly to the white envelope that the lawyer had given her, where she had left it on the kitchen counter earlier. She grabbed it and went into the sunroom. She sank with a tired groan into the plush love seat and ripped it open. Chaos ran in and jumped up, curling next to her. Amanda smoothed a hand down his silky back.

  She unfolded the letter and began to read.

  Dear Amanda,

  I know we never met, and I regret that. Nothing can change that now. First thing I want you to know is that your father loved you, no matter what you thought. He made a good life for us, and for that I’m grateful. I loved him very much.

  I know that this must be a big shock for you, meeting your brother for the first time. Gregory is a good boy. I hope you’ll see that for yourself.

  It’s been tough for Greg after your father died from that heart attack two years ago. Not to mention me. I know it’s going to be even tougher for Greg after I go. Greg has no idea that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I don’t think he’d understand it anyway.

  If you’re reading this, then Greg has lost both of his parents. I hope you find it in your heart to help him and love him. I know he’s only your half-brother, but he’s still your brother. You’re all he has.

  Please look deep within yourself to open your heart to him. It’s not an easy job. Gregory can take care of himself somewhat, but he needs a lot of guidance. I was trying to get him to be more independent, but he will never be able to live on his own. He really needs you. I don’t want him to end up in a home, alone.

  The house is yours now, along with a trust that your father and I had set up in which you will receive monthly income to help take care of Gregory. It should be enough that if you stay in Manning Grove, you should be able to not work and be there for Greg when he needs you. If you take him back to Miami (I hope you won’t), it probably won’t last long at all.

  This is a great town and the people are friendly and they know Gregory. I know this might not convince you, but I don’t think Gregory would be happy in a big city.

  I’m babbling now.

  Amanda read through a “grocery list” of what tasks Greg could do on his own and what he needed help with. Amanda crushed the letter in her hand and threw it across the room. It bounced off a lamp and landed in the middle of the floor.

  Chaos leaped off the chair and retrieved the “ball” before ceremoniously dropping it back in her lap. She glared at him and the crumpled, damp letter, trying not to scream. Struggling not to cry.

  She didn’t want to do this. She couldn’t do this. This woman had no right to ask her. She never asked for a brother. Never cared that she was an only child. Her mother had spoiled her. Not because she loved Amanda, but because she wanted to control her and, when necessary, keep Amanda out of her hair.

  Chaos nudged her hand, waiting for her to throw the “ball” again.

  Staring at the black-and-white dog, she realized that she was expected to be responsible. Her—Amanda Barber! She who had never even owned a pet. Not even a hamster. Now she was actually responsible for another human being. It was too much.

  She’d let Greg down.

  Her head dropped into her hands, and she lost it. Sobs racked her body until her stomach ached, her nose was stuffy and swollen, and her eyes puffy. She sniffled loudly. Chaos sat at her feet, ears perked, and tilted his head up at her with a silent inquiry.

  She was scared.

  And alone.

  Not even her mother could—or would—help.

  The thought strengthened her. She didn’t need her mother. Her mother was angry with her. She had said that Amanda would never be able to do it. That she was incapable.

  Amanda would show her. She would be better than her mother. Greg was her blood. Her family. She would be caring, warm, and loving.

  At least she could try.

  Chaos, tired of waiting, jumped back up beside her. Amanda’s hand stroked his head. She was determined to prove her mother wrong.

  Chapter Two

  The excited barking of a dog awakened Amanda. Her back was stiff as she slowly and painfully unfolded herself from the love seat. She didn’t remember falling asleep in the chair late last night. Her clothes were disheveled and wrinkled, her shoes gone.

  Through the sunroom’s expanse of windows, Amanda saw why. Chaos was busy tossing one in the air and catching it. The other was already half-buried in a hole in the middle of the yard.

  Fuck! They had cost her three hundred dollars. Almost a week’s worth of tips from bartending.

  The screech of chair legs against linoleum caught her attention, and she decided to ignore the dog. For now. She was sure Chaos would give her shoes a proper burial later. She hurried into the kitchen to see her new responsibility sitting at the table.

  Greg’s hair was standing up on one side of his head, and he was decked out in a SpongeBob SquarePants T-shirt and a pair of white cotton briefs. And that was all.

  He looked up at Amanda as she stepped into the room. He gave her a wide grin, a piece of cereal stuck to the corner of his mouth.

  “I made my own breakfast, ’Manda!”

  Amanda groaned. “I see.”

  What she saw was a box of Honey O’s spilled all over the table and an overflowing cereal bowl. Luckily the quart of milk was still upright, but white drops dotted the floor and table. And Greg himself. The worst part was that he was using an enormous serving spoon to eat from.

  With every scoop into the overloaded bowl, the combination of milk and cereal sloshed over the side.

  She quickly searched for the utensil drawer. As soon as she found them, she handed her brother a normal-sized spoon. “Here, use this, Bud.”

  Greg eyed the normal spoon and shook his head. “No. I like this one.” He attempted to shove the oversize spoon into his mouth and milk dripped down his chin. She hastily grabbed a napkin to wipe his face.

  A nurse and a maid…that’s what she’d become. A nursemaid.

  But this morning, the anger just wouldn’t come. She couldn’t help but reach out and attempt to smooth down his unruly hair.

  “What’s Chaos doin’?”

  “He found some new toys. You stay here and finish your breakfast. I’m going to wander around the house a little bit. Okay?”

  Greg could care less. He was engrossed with the puzzles on the back of the cereal box.

  Amanda wanted to see the house again in the light of day. She went up to stake out the master bedroom and made use of the single bathroom upstairs. Then she wandered back down through the main floor and pas
sed Greg, who was having a deep conversation with himself—while still eating—on her way out to the garage.

  She flipped on the light. In the single-car garage sat an older Buick. She pressed the garage door opener to get a better view. Once the sunshine flooded in, she walked around the cramped garage, inspecting the car. It was gray. Four door. The perfect car for a grandparent.

  Boring.

  Just like living in this town was going to be.

  When she rounded the back of the car, she stopped in horror. The license plate read GREGSMOM. She groaned. She absolutely refused to drive around town with that plate.

  She looked up as Greg stepped into the garage. Still in his underwear and milk-stained tee.

  “We goin’ for a ride?” His hands twisted in ways that she never could have imagined possible, and his arms jerked with excitement.

  “Not like that you’re not.” She lifted a brow toward his attire and didn’t know if he’d understand or not.

  But he did. His smile got even bigger as he bounced on his toes. “Oh…oh…oh! I’m gonna go dress!” He stomped up the two steps into the house, and Amanda could hear a squeal of delight as well as what sounded like a herd of elephants pounding up to the second floor.

  Now she just needed to clean herself up. She closed the garage door. She would take the rental. The rental car company wasn’t coming until four o’clock to pick it up anyway.

  As she had done the previous day when she met with her stepmother’s lawyer, Amanda had parked the little red coupe in the public lot in town. She and Greg had spent a couple of hours walking, checking out the various mom-and-pop stores along Main Street. Since it was a Saturday, it seemed busier than what she imagined it would be. Every store they went into, someone would yell out a greeting to Greg and he would yell back, more often than not, directly in Amanda’s ear.

  Amanda was amazed at Greg’s skill of knowing everyone by name, since she was terrible at it. It was quite a gift for him, especially considering this morning he couldn’t even remember to put on a pair of pants. Everyone seemed to know him in town and treated him kindly.

  After buying him a cone of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a large mocha latte for herself from the Coffee and Cream shop on the corner, they wandered back through the square and into the dollar store. There, she bought an armful of new chew toys for Chaos. Greg had a ball picking them out for his dog and kept repeating, “Everything’s just one dollar!” Finally, Amanda had to drag him out of there before her head exploded. Even the caffeine-laden latte couldn’t get rid of the full-blown headache she had.

  As they left the dollar store, Greg suddenly grabbed her hand, almost knocking out the shopping bag. He started pulling her down the sidewalk: a boy on a mission.

  Today she had on her one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar pair of boots, the ones with a slight heel that went perfect with the pair of skinny jeans and dark purple leather jacket she was wearing. But even in low heels, he was dragging her way too fast.

  “Hold up, Greg! I can’t walk that fast.”

  “There’s someones…someones I want you to meet!” His voice raised a pitch.

  “Huh?”

  “C’mon, ’Manda! C’mon!” He tugged, but she dug in her heels as she noticed a salon.

  An actual salon. Hooray for small wonders!

  She stopped, reading the front of the display window from across the street. Manes on Main. Manicures. Pedicures. Colors. Perms.

  She sighed in relief.

  The front door opened with a jingle of bells. A tall, thin man in his early thirties stepped out on the stoop to light a cigarette. He had beautiful, lush blond hair and high cheekbones. He was much too pretty for a man. He gave her a blinding white smile when he noticed them staring like a couple of idiots.

  Greg suddenly released her hand and started to twist his together in a constant wringing motion. Amanda was quickly learning that he did that whenever he was stressed or excited.

  “That’s Teddy—Theo’s name for short. Mama says he’s gay. I don’t know what that means.” Amanda felt a flush rise from her throat. Greg continued on. “He cuts hair. But Mama won’t let Teddy cut my hair. Why do people call him Teddy when his name is Theo?”

  Amanda gave Teddy-Theo a crooked smile. She really wanted to hide, but there was nothing but a municipal waste can nearby. That wouldn’t have been too obvious. So instead she dumped her empty latte cup in it and got a better grip on the shopping bag, just in case Greg took off dragging her down the middle of Main Street without a warning.

  “Well, Greg, just like people call me Mandy sometimes or like you call me ’Manda. It’s a nickname.”

  “What’s a nick…nickname?”

  “Like me calling you Greg instead of your full name of Gregory.”

  “Like you call me Bud?”

  “Exactly. That’s very good, Greg.”

  He puffed out his chest. “My name is Gregory Martin Barber.”

  “I know. Let’s go say hello to Teddy.” She caught him at the elbow, nudging him forward.

  Greg pulled back, his eyes widening. “No! Mama says I can’t talk to strangers.”

  “Greg, he’s not a stranger; you know who he is.”

  “But…but, Mama says he’s strange.”

  “Greg…” Amanda paused, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Never mind.”

  Amanda grabbed Greg’s arm and hauled him across the street to the entrance of the salon.

  “Hello.”

  Teddy parted his lips, then casually blew a stream of smoke up and away from them. “Hello.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. This is a small town; I’m used to it. And I know it’s not Greg’s fault.” Teddy smiled at Greg. “Hello, Greg.”

  Greg kept his eyes downcast, staring at his feet as he dug the toe of his sneaker into the concrete.

  “Say hello, Greg,” Amanda prompted. She nudged his back. When he still didn’t answer, she nudged harder.

  “Hello,” he finally mumbled without lifting his head.

  Teddy brought his attention back to Amanda.

  “You’re Amanda Barber.”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  Teddy laughed. “Welcome to Small Town America.”

  Not amused, Amanda asked, “So are you Theo, Teddy, Theodore or what?”

  “My friends call me Teddy, others call me…” He glanced at Greg. “Well, you can imagine.”

  By the time Amanda had finished talking with Teddy, Greg had all but forgotten whom he wanted Amanda to meet. He was tired; so was she. So they agreed to head back to the house.

  As they turned a corner on their walk back to the parking lot, Amanda noticed a man in a blue uniform by her car. He looked like a cop. She stopped dead in her tracks. He was a cop! One that was totally engrossed in writing on a silver metal clipboard. And putting a copy of whatever it was under her windshield wiper. Shit!

  She took off running, leaving Greg behind her screaming, “There’s the someones I want you to see!”

  Out of breath she skidded to a halt in front of the uniformed officer, pushing the hair out of her face.

  He had a typical cop’s haircut—the dark hair was nothing more than an extremely short crew cut. His crystal-blue eyes bored into her with a look of caution: she may be crazy. His square jaw tensed as if waiting for a confrontation. And Amanda didn’t want to disappoint him.

  “Hey, you can’t do that!” Amanda dropped the bag of dog toys to yank her low-cut jeans back up since they had slipped dangerously lower as she ran. The last thing she needed was another citation for indecent exposure.

  “Let me guess, this is your car?” His not so subtle sarcasm irritated her. Before she could give him a real piece of her mind, Greg had caught up.

  “Max…Max…look what we buy Chaos!”

  The officer’s eyes softened and his jaw relaxed as he became aware of Greg.

  “Hey, Greg. What are you doing out here by yourself?”

  Aman
da bristled. “He’s not by himself. He’s with me.”

  “Max! Max…this is my sister, ’Manda.” Greg snagged the bag of dog toys from the ground and opened it wide to give Max a view inside. “See what we gots Chaos?”

  To Greg’s delight, Max took a good look in the bag, telling Greg how cool the toys were. While the officer was occupied with her brother, Amanda went over and ripped the yellow citation out from under the wiper. She scanned it.

  “What? Why am I getting a parking ticket? This is free parking!”

  He looked up slowly, raising one eyebrow. “Read the sign.”

  “Look, Officer…” She leaned in, reading his shiny name tag. “Bryson. I read the sign. It says free parking.” She jammed her hands on her hips with emphasis.

  She shouldn’t have done that. Her action drew his frosty blue eyes down to the exposed skin between her low-riding waistline and the baby tee she wore. She jerked the edges of her jacket closed.

  “It says free two-hour parking.”

  Amanda opened her mouth to argue, but as she read the sign again, it formed into an O. Her lips flattened shut. With a flourish she raised her arm and pulled back the sleeve of her leather coat, glancing at the delicate gold Bulova watch that dangled around her wrist.

  The watch was one of many gifts her mother had given her to cover her maternal guilt. One ten. She had parked the car in the lot a little before eleven.

  “You’re kidding me right?” She gaped at him in disbelief. He casually lifted a shoulder in answer. “Fifteen minutes over and I’m getting a”—she looked at the now crumpled ticket in her hand—“twenty-five-dollar fine? Give me a break!”

  Apparently he was used to dealing with angry citizens, as she didn’t faze him. Amanda dug out the car keys and pushed the Unlock button on the car remote. Then she popped the trunk, threw in the bag of dog toys, and gave it a satisfying slam shut.

  “I guess since there’s no crime in this hickville of a town, you have nothing better to do than to harass law-abiding citizens. What do you do? Sit around with a stopwatch just waiting for someone to go over the time limit? Do those tickets pay your salary? Do you have a quota? Huh?”