by Sarah Hegger
“Come on, baby girl.” Blythe gave her gentle shake. “I’ll get your breakfast.”
Heading to her kitchen, Blythe smiled at her open-plan sitting-dining set up. She even liked the ugly brown couches that she’d gotten for a steal. Throw blankets and pillows toned down their aggressive 70s vibe. She’d replace them in time.
She cracked enough eggs for Will and Kim. She could start them each morning with a good breakfast, a healthy breakfast that would help them through the day. Dropping the eggs in a pan to scramble, she popped whole-wheat bread into the toaster.
Once the eggs were ready, she put them on a plate next to the toast and placed a small bowl of fresh berries by both place settings. It was stupid how much she relished doing that.
“Looks good.” Will pulled a barstool up to the counter, his hair still wet from the shower. “If you want to get going, I can get Kim to kindergarten.”
“You driving for Uber today?”
Will nodded and ate his berries. “Last night was a bust. Made hardly anything. I’ll start as soon I’m done with Katy.”
Will worked too hard for a kid his age. Katy was his tutor and helped him bridge the gap between a crappy education and his college aspirations. They’d found her through St. Peter’s, and she kept her rates way down for him. He never said where the car came from that he used as an Uber driver but Blythe had her suspicions.
Now that the apartment was livable, settling that debt was top of her priorities. She, Will and Kim were going to make it, and without handouts and pity from the rest of this town.
Still looking sleepy, Kim wandered in and climbed onto the stool beside Will. She gave her eggs an unenthusiastic poke. “I’ll have Lucky Charms.”
“You’ll have eggs and fruit.” Blythe poured herself a cup of coffee and added milk. “Eggs make you grow and keep you smart.”
“But I like Lucky Charms,” Kim said.
Of course she did. They were a staple in the Barrowses’ diet. “Soon you’ll like eggs as well. Will is taking you to kindergarten today. I have to go to work.”
No need to tell Kim that she had an informal appointment with social services first.
“Have breakfast.” Will raised his eyebrow at her.
Not much got past him, and Blythe laughed. She got herself some plain Greek yoghurt and added berries and honey. If she told people to eat like this, then she needed to do the same. Nobody wanted a personal trainer who ate like a frat boy with the munchies.
Her phone buzzed a notification and she checked it.
Eric. Sweet Thing, this is getting old. Let’s talk.
If only she could trust herself to talk to him, she wouldn’t have to do this childish duck and weave thing. She couldn’t talk to him. Being in the same room as Eric tested her resolve. She knew how this would go if she gave in because it had gone that way every other time she’d tried to end their…whatever it was.
Eric would be charming, sexy and funny. Then he’d give her a peek into the warm, caring sensitive heart of him. She’d see him, smell him, touch him, and that would be it. Straight back to them having sex as often as they could.
The erratic beat of her heart took a breath or two to calm. It could be that her inability to delete his name and contact from her phone showed a lack of commitment to this breakup, but she couldn’t do it. No, she couldn’t do it yet. There would come a day when Eric’s name on the screen didn’t make her want to drop everything and run to him. Or picture him and try and guess where he was and what he was doing.
Not today, however, and she put her phone down.
She saw Will and Kim out and then tidied the apartment. The social worker was dropping by to make sure everything was good for Kim.
The doorbell chimed, and she went to answer it, stopping first to peep through the spy hole.
Becker and Bo stood on her doorstep. Three years apart in age, yet they were often mistaken for twins. They shared her lighter hair and green eyes and were built slimmer. More like Carly than Pat.
Becker, the slightly taller of the two, stepped forward and faced the peephole. “Open the door, Blythe. We saw your car. We know you’re in there.”
Still, she hesitated. She didn’t want them thinking they could barge into her apartment any time they wanted. Filling her home with their trash, destroying what she’d worked so hard for, and bringing their stolen crap here until they could fence it.
Becker raised his fist and pounded on the door. “Open the fucking door, Blythe, before we have to make friends with your nice new neighbors.”
That did it. Blythe didn’t want to start her time here becoming that person her neighbors wanted out of the building. She’d had a lifetime of that. Leaving the chain on, she opened the door and peered through the gap.
Becker pushed against the door, but the chain held. He scowled at her. “Let us in.”
“No.” Blythe kept an eye on the empty corridor, praying none of her neighbors came out and saw her brothers.
“Why not?” Bo peered over Becker’s shoulders. “We’re family.”
Family they may be, but they looked like what they were: trouble. Dressed in filthy jeans, biker boots and T-shirts, they were both long past a shower. Bo’s hair hung limp and filthy over his face and he hadn’t shaved in days. Some men wore that look well. Bo wore it like he couldn’t give a shit about himself or anyone else.
Blythe needed them to get it and get it well. “Because I don’t want you here.”
Bo looked taken aback.
“Bitch.” Becker’s scowl deepened and he kicked the door. “You remember where you came from before I bust down this fucking door and remind you.”
“Brett’ll do it for sure.” Bo snickered and heaved up his sagging waistband. “He showed her before who’s boss, and he’ll do it again.”
Brett, their older brother, was in prison, where he belonged. “Just a pity he’s behind bars.”
“Shows what you know.” Becker’s expression turned conniving. “He made parole, and you can bet your ass we’ll be telling him all about you and your fancy apartment where none of us are welcome.”
She knew she was staring at them like a rabbit in headlights, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. Brett had made parole? The familiar nagging fear tightened around her belly. Her other brothers could be mean, but Brett had a streak of bone deep nasty that ran right through him.
At one time or another, every one of the siblings had felt Brett’s temper. Normally communicated with his fists or his boots, and the last time she’d had the pleasure, by breaking her arm.
Her ulna gave a sympathetic twinge. She tried to bluff it out. “Bullshit. He’s not due.”
“Poor Blythe.” Becker sneered. “All that education, and you still can’t count. Brett’s done his time.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. She needed to move apartments. Towns. County. State.
“Everything all right here?” Sheriff Nate Evans strolled into view. Easily the best-looking man in Ghost Falls, and also Eric’s younger brother, Blythe was both relieved and horrified to see him. Relieved about the backup, not thrilled about such a strong connection to Eric.
Becker and Bo felt no such ambivalence. They were equally unhappy to see him.
“No law against paying a visit to your sister.” Bo looked sulky.
Nate approached them and put himself between the door and her brothers. “There is if your sister is asking you to leave. Are you?” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you asking them to leave?”
“Yes.” Blythe’s voice came out a choked whisper. Brett had made parole, and Bo and Becker knew how to find her. Worse yet, they knew how to find Kim. Brett had never even met their youngest sister. It would be a cold day in hell before Blythe allowed him to either.
Becker threw her another glare before grabbing Bo by the shoulder and hauling him away.
; Blythe stood by the door as they disappeared down the stairs and out of sight.
“Are you going to let me in?” Nate gave her that smile that had reduced most of the Ghost Falls female population to mush at one time or another. A good few members of their male population as well. Come to think of it, even dogs loved Nate. He’d never done it for her, though. Not in the way Eric did. Had.
She needed to remember that. Had.
“Sure.” She fumbled the chain off the door and opened it. “Not that I’m ungrateful for the save, but what are you doing here?”
“Myra asked me to come by.” Nate stepped into her apartment and looked around.
Please don’t let Myra not coming mean something bad. Was Nate here to take Kim back? “She’s not coming?”
Myra was their social worker. In her late fifties now, Myra had inherited the Barrowses years ago and never managed to get rid of them. Blythe was pathetically grateful for her. Myra had been a lot of the reason Blythe had been determined to make the changes she had. It was Myra who had taught Blythe about her period and taken her to buy tampons. Later, Myra had taught her all about safe sex, and the importance of finishing school.
Nate shook his head. “Myra got caught up in something a ways out of town. She asked me to come by and have a look around.”
“Go to it.” Blythe held her arms out. She tried to appear casual, but her heart pounded in her chest.
Myra didn’t always do things by the book, and Blythe thanked God for that. It was the reason she’d been allowed to take Kim with her. She had Myra’s unofficial blessing and more than a few hints that if she ever chose to adopt Kim legally, Myra would put in a good word for her. However tempting that might be, Blythe couldn’t do that to their mother.
Carly had few enough reasons to hang in there as it was. She just wished…except it was a stupid wish and Blythe knew it. She couldn’t save Carly. Nobody could until Carly decided she wanted to save herself.
Nate did a thorough job. Blythe stood in the kitchen and let him look around. So much hinged on this visit. As much as she told herself she had nothing to be nervous about, Blythe would still be relieved when this was over. She’d consulted with Myra every step of the way, so today should be a formality. But the Barrowses had never had much luck, particularly not with authority.
“It looks great, Blythe.” Nate came back in the room, and she got one of his killer smiles. “Myra said it would be, but you know how she likes to make sure.”
“I do.” And Blythe didn’t blame her. Myra making sure had saved her often enough. Growing up, sometimes the only reason she had a meal was Myra making sure. “And tell her I won’t let her down.”
“I don’t have to do that,” Nate said. “She knows.”
Their faith in her blindsided Blythe, and she had to look away before she embarrassed herself by crying. “Will took Kim to the kindergarten at St. Peter’s. Could you tell Myra that I found a place for her?”
“I will,” he said.
It sounded like everything was going to be all right. She should be celebrating, yet all she could do was stand there and wait for the bad news.
“Hey.” Nate stepped in front of her. “You did good here, Blythe.”
Her throat felt too tight for words, and she nodded. In his teens, before he’d joined the police force, Nate had nursed his own wild side. That wild side had sometimes brought him to her side of town. He understood her world. “How’s your mom taking this?”
“When she’s sober, she’s okay with it.” That didn’t happen enough, unfortunately. “She understands that Kim will be better off with me. In her heart she wants Kim to have better; she just doesn’t like it, and she misses her.”
“Yeah.” Nate nodded. He got what others didn’t. Being unable to cope with her children didn’t mean Carly didn’t love them. Even the fact that she put booze before their welfare, still didn’t mean she didn’t love them. She just didn’t love them enough. “I’ll get someone to check in on her.”
“Thank you.” Blythe followed him to the door. “Pat hasn’t been around for a while, but if he’s still breathing, he’ll be back.”
“You call me if he comes around here.” Nate handed her his card. “And you call me if those two jokers show up again.” Bending his knees, he forced her to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Blythe. You don’t hesitate, and you don’t try to deal with them yourself. You call me.”
Eric used to say the same to her. “I’ll call you.”
“Good.” He opened the door and took one last look around. “Damn, Blythe, I don’t know how you did all this, but you did it. You should be very proud of yourself.”
He made her want to bawl when he said things like that, so she changed the subject. “Can I ask you something?”
Turning in the door, Nate waited for her to ask.
“Brett.” Blythe got her question out in a rush of breath. “Did he make parole?”
“Yeah.” Nate took a step closer to her. “But you don’t have to worry about it. If he even looks at you or Kim or Will in a way I don’t like, I’ll make sure he never sees the outside again.”
Blythe managed a smile, but it was for Nate’s benefit. The police didn’t always get there in time. Both she and Carly were living proof of that. She was determined Kim wouldn’t be.
* * * *
Eric sat in his car and waited for Bo and Becker to drive away. There was no reason for him to stay, especially since Nate had pulled up as he was getting ready to interfere with Bo and Becker.
He’d had to do this a few times over the years he and Blythe had been seeing each other. She’d always bitched at him afterwards, but he wasn’t about to let those assholes treat Blythe like shit. Not after the Brett thing.
After forty minutes, Nate left Blythe’s apartment. He crossed the road and headed straight for Eric’s car.
Lowering the window, Eric tried to keep it cool. “Hey. What’s up?”
“That’s what I’m here to ask you.” Nate had his sheriff face on.
There was no way he could answer that without a whole lot of explanation, so he chose not to answer. “She okay?”
Nate studied him with an inscrutable expression. “She’s fine. The apartment is great, and I told her to let me know if those jokers come around again.” Nate stuck his thumbs in his utility belt. “Brett Barrows made parole this morning.”
“Shit.” Eric got out his car so fast, Nate had to leap out of the way.
Nate got in front of him storming toward Blythe’s apartment. “What are you doing, Eric?”
“She can’t stay here.” Eric tried to duck around him. Nate didn’t know the entire history. “If those other two jerks know where she lives, they’ll tell Brett.”
“I’m gonna need you to stand down.” Nate put his hand on Eric’s chest. “Nobody’s broken any laws yet.”
Eric suppressed the desire to punch his brother. They were way too old for that. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nate cocked his head. “Then why don’t you explain it to me, Eric?”
Eric didn’t know where to start explaining his involvement with Blythe. He had no right to be here, no right to take care of her and protect her, and he’d been the one who set it up that way.
Chapter Six
Blythe sat in her car outside St. Peter’s Church on Friday night and replayed the message from Eric. The sexy rasp of his voice tugged on every part of her.
“Blythe.” Not sweet thing anymore, which meant he was pissed. “I heard Bo and Becker were hanging around your new place the other day. Whatever is going on with you, don’t let it make you stupid. Call if you need me.”
Then his second message a few minutes later. “And I heard Brett made parole. Again, call if you need me. Or just call. What the hell, Blythe.”
Eric cared about her, and he liked her. She’d never
doubted that. In a way, if he saw her as nothing more than a convenient bed buddy this might have been easier. Whatever he felt for her was real, she knew that, but she also knew it wasn’t enough.
For so many years, she’d lived and breathed for the times Eric rolled back into her life. Like a robot, she’d marked the months, and sometimes years, before he’d come back. Sure, she got on with her life. Her plan to move out had taken years to bring to fruition. There had even been boyfriends between one round of Eric and the next.
“I want more,” she said to her phone ,and then felt stupid for talking to a silent phone.
She climbed out of her car and grabbed her bag from the back. A man was raking leaves into piles on the church lawn.
Her first week in her new home had been uneventful. Nate might have said something to Bo and Becker because she had no more uninvited family banging on her front door. She tried calling her mother once or twice, but the first time Carly had been too drunk to make sense and the second time Barron had answered, so she’d hung up.
Pushing open the door, she stepped into the familiar comfort of St. Peter’s recreation center. As a teen she’d always been able to come here and get away from her brothers. Parishioners there had helped her through high school, and then to get her qualification as a personal trainer.
Now they’d found a tutor for Will and given Kim a place in the kindergarten and aftercare for a ridiculously small rate. So on Friday and Tuesday nights she held an exercise class for whoever wanted to make it.
“Blythe.” Reverend Michael greeted her with his huge smile, his big boots clumping on the polished floor.
When she had been a teen, Reverend Cummings had presided over St. Peter’s. She’d for sure have been crushing on the tall, man mountain that was Reverend Michael Bradford if he’d been around in her time.
“Kim has been telling us all week about her new house. You did good.”
Compliments made her want to squirm, so she nodded and motioned inside. “The usual suspects?
