“She’s”—I resume my pacing—“Unreasonable. She blames me for this whole situation.”
My brother and sister look at each other, before Ayla says, “But you saved her from who knows what manner of violence.”
I stop and swivel to her. “Exactly.” I want to boom but I can’t. My eyes narrow, and I laser my gaze on my sister as I point to my niece. “Did you bring her so I wouldn’t yell?”
She sucks her lips between her teeth and clamps down to avoid smiling. “Andfor snuggles.”
Lorien
Okay. Okay. Maybe I’m being a teensy bit unreasonable. I’m being sued but I wasn’t violated or killed. Or mutilated.
But it’s still his fault. That man barged in here, relieved someone of his eyeball, and now I have to figure out how not to lose my life savings.
Life debt is more like it.
School, plus school, plus more school means my net worth is negative. With the mortgage here, I guess they could sue for the two dollars I have in equity in my ten-year-old car. Not that anyone wants a front-wheel-drive sedan with our weather and the incline.
Fine. Imighthave been over the top with my blame when Liam Murphy did what was right by me, with no regard for his personal safety, not even knowing me.
Well, cocoa biscuits.
Being an adult means apologizing.
Being an Anderson means doing the right thing, even when it isn’t convenient.
I grab the papers and go next door, wondering how frosty the reception will be after I just accused him of putting me in a bad position instead of thanking him again for saving my life. The list of what I could bake rolls through my mind. I haven’t done oatmeal raisin yet, though that seems to be a polarizing cookie. Everyone has an opinion on oatmeal raisin. Maybe oatmeal cinnamon chip.
Oh, I know. Cinnamon rolls. That would be hysteric?—
The thought stops dead in my whirling brain as he pulls the door open quietly and throws both arms over his chest. The corded muscles of his forearms roll under the inked skin, and my mind latches on to the ripples and rolls as he clenches and unclenches his fist.
He clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his face. I’d swear his lips are twitching. “Don’t laugh at me, Liam Mur?—”
Twice in three thoughts, a word has failed me. I look inside to see two of the three people in the picture in my neighbor’s living room, and one tiny infant, swaddled in red.
Who wraps a little one in red?
“Hi.” I wave to the man and woman. I thrust the papers at the wall of man in front of me. “Here. But I’d like them back.”
Instead of accepting the papers, Liam steps aside and flourishes an arm as if I’m to enter.
Alrighty then.
The redhead stands and comes my way, extending a hand. “I’m Ayla.”
“Lorien,” I respond and shake hers.
“Nice to meet you. Come in and sit. We’re trying to strategize this whole situation.” She waves a hand as if that says enough.
The door closes behind me, trapping me inside, and I stiffen.
“I’m Cian,” the man holding the baby says, giving a low wave from the baby’s bottom. “This is Sophia.”
“I’m Lorien. I’m Liam’s neighbor.”
There’s an amused look on Ayla’s face as I sit. She begins a conversation as I realize my grumpy pants neighbor speed reads the papers I was served with this morning. He grunts occasionally but continues reading.
“What do they say?” Ayla tips her head to the papers in her brother’s arms.
