I not only have to grieve my cousin, who was practically a sister to me, and her husband, but my mind won’t stop replaying the lawyer’s words, “They want you to be the children’s guardian.”
What was Sky thinking?
“Who wouldn’t be? Which is why you have me. Come on.” She holds out her hand. “Let’s sneak into the kitchen and devour Sky’s candy drawer.”
Just another example of how opposite Skylar and I are. She’d never have a candy drawer.
“There’s no way she has one.”
“Everyone has one,” Callie insists, continuing to hold out her hand toward me. “Hers just might be extra hard to find, but lucky for you, I’m like a bloodhound.”
I accept her hand and take one more look around their space. It feels like a torture chamber. “You’re going to come up empty.”
She tucks my arm through hers and unlocks and opens the door. “I guess we’ll have to see. And don’t worry about everyone down there. The perfect distraction is on the way.”
“Callie, I don’t think a clown is appropriate for a day like today.”
She laughs as we step into the hallway, but it dies a quick death when we see Monroe standing outside of her bedroom with her doll clutched in her arms. How careless of us to try to find any kind of levity today when there are three confused children grieving their parents.
“Cookie is hungry,” she says.
I hold out my hand. “We’re headed to raid the kitchen. Want to join?”
Monroe walks to us, her small hand slipping into mine.
The three of us walk down the stairs, and right when we get to the fourth step from the bottom, Monroe jumps and lands on the third stair, spurring a loud creak. My stomach drops as all eyes in the vicinity turn toward us.
My mom rushes over. “Monroe, honey, we were looking for you.” She gives me a look—one that suggests I told you this is going to be harder than you think.
Nothing new about her underestimating me.
“Cookie is hungry.” Monroe buries herself into my side.
I place my hand on Monroe’s back. “I’ve got her.”
My mom sighs and purses her lips. I know she’s worried, and it’s in her nature to step in, take control. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. But I told myself I wouldn’t fret over all the logistics today. However, it’s easier said than done.
“We’re going in search of food,” Callie interjects—as she has many times between my mother and me—turning to walk toward the back of the house.
“There’s food right here.” My mom points toward the buffet table under the giant television anchored to the wall.
“Yeah, different food.” Callie places her hand on my mom’s arm. “We’ll be right back, Lil.”
My mom nods, and I feel her gaze on our backs.
As the three of us walk toward the kitchen, I give everyone polite smiles and nods to assure them that we’re all going to be okay, including the six-year-old clinging to me and her doll, even if I’m as doubtful as they are.
Freedom from the prying eyes is just steps away when the front door opens. Something has me turning to see who’s coming through the door. Light floods into what feels like darkness, even though the drapes are wide open, and a figure stands haloed by the glow outside.
“Finally! It only took him forever,” Callie grumbles.
My head snaps toward her. She didn’t. Even only being able to make out that it’s a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a suit, I know who it is.
“Hayes Carlisle?” Lincoln ditches the yo-yo that Patrick’s father brought him and bolts off the couch, running over to him.
My heart plummets to my stomach. “You called your brother?”
Conversations pause mid-sentence, all of the attention transferred to the Chicago Colts’ newest catcher.
