The woman who has haunted me for fifteen motherfucking years.
Once I give it to her, there won’t be any reason to talk to her.
And that pisses me off.
The door of the garage opens, and Birdie skips inside. It’s late, almost quitting time. With the change of seasons, it’s getting dark outside earlier.
The sun has already gone down, and it’s raining.
Fall is here.
“Hi, Uncle Brooks,” Birdie calls out as Bridger walks in behind her.
“What are you guys up to?” I ask as I squat, and Birdie walks right into my arms so I can lift her.
“I had to have a checkup at the doctor,” she tells me. “And then I wanted to see you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You did?”
“Yeah. Are you going to teach me how to fix cars?”
I chuckle and glance at my brother, who’s wandered over to chat with Gabe.
“Sure. I’ll teach you. But you’ll get your hands dirty.”
She scrunches up her nose and then shrugs. “I guess that’s okay. I’m sad, Uncle Brooks.”
Birdie pushes that little lower lip out in a pout, and I do the same, mirroring her.
“Why?”
“Because my restaurant is closed.”
Unease niggles its way into my stomach. “Did they close early today?”
Birdie shakes her head, and Bridger walks my way.
“No, there was a flood,” Birdie says, and my eyes immediately move to my brother.
“What?”
“Yeah, poor Jules,” Bridger says with a sigh. “Middle of the night the other night, one of the pipes in her attic burst, flooded the whole damn building before we could get it shut off.”
“What the fu—” I glance at my baby girl, cutting off the swear word. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Is it your favorite, too?” Birdie asks, patting my cheek, as if consoling me.
“Something like that.” I set the little girl on her feet. “Gabe, I have to go.”
“I’ll lock up,” he calls back with a wave.
“I don’t think she’s staying there,” Bridger says as he and Birdie walk out with me. “She said she had somewhere to stay.”
I stop next to my truck and turn to him. “Where?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Her parents are dead, no siblings, not many friends. Where the hell do you think she had to go, Bridge?”
