Starlee's Home (The Wayward Sons 3)

She twists her hands together, and not for the first time, I notice how tired she looks. “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Dex.”

I frown. “Do what? The hearing? I swear it’s the last one.”

“No, all of it. Taking care of you, the shop, the house, the boys…it’s too much. The last month has proven this.”

“What are you talking about? I know things have been a mess, but you’ve done everything right and the guys are almost back.” I stand up. “Once they’re here there will be more help at the shop and everything will calm down.”

“It’s not just that, Dex. I’m exhausted. I’m twenty-three and the mom of four juvenile delinquents. I’m running this shop and trying to make sure you’re not getting the neighbor pregnant or breaking the law, and there’s all the court hearings and because of me the twins got sent back with their dad.” Her eyes water. “Dex, their dad beat George. He beat him. He should have been here.”

“That was not your fault, and I’m not getting anyone pregnant.”

“No? You guys have had access to that back cottage for months. Don’t tell me nothing went on back there.”

I know for certain nothing went on with me back in that cottage, but I can’t say the same for the others. I clench my jaw and say nothing.

“Dammit, Dex.” She sighs. “The truth is I don’t care about all that, but I know I’m supposed to.”

“Sierra, you’re not making sense.”

“I know! Everything is lost and confused. I miss Mom and Dad. I miss having a normal life. I’m just…I’m in over my head.”

I step forward and wrap my arms around my sister, holding her tight. My heart aches for her. She’s right. She gave up years on me and the guys, all the bullshit that follows us around. It’s not fair and we owe her more. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

She shakes her head. “I meant what I said when I walked in here. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Then what?” Panic rises in my chest. If there’s been one constant in all this mess, it’s Sierra. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I’m going to talk to the judge tomorrow—before your hearing. Maybe with Mrs. Nye stepping up…we’ll figure it out.”

“And what if you don’t?”

She wipes her eyes, black eye-makeup smudges across her cheeks. “I love you, baby brother. I always have and I always will, but I need a minute to get my head on straight.”

I know I owe her this. We all do. Part of me hopes Judge Adams says no, forces her to stay, but I get it. She looks like hell. Feels like it too. I pull her into another hug, and just in case I don’t get another chance, take the chance to say, “I love you too.”

The shirt sleeves of my suit jacket are too short and it’s too tight across the back. I keep loosening my necktie but Starlee has come back three times to tighten and straighten it. I finally just accept it as a signal of what’s to come anyway.

“Stop fidgeting,” she says, taking my hand. I glance over her shoulder at the front door for the millionth time, but no one is there.

Sierra isn’t coming.

She’d given each of the boys a hug that morning and then left before we did, without any further details than the night before. She looked even more exhausted and I had a bad feeling about everything.

Mrs. Nye and Mrs. Jones drove us down, everyone feeling more comfortable with an adult in the car. Which wasn’t as awkward as it could’ve been. Mrs. Jones seems to be trying and I appreciate that. Mr. Jameson met us at the courthouse and when I asked, he said he hadn’t seen her either. Did she just up and vanish? Did she leave us?

I look over at the twins, both cleaned up, and Jake, who’s just here to testify if needed. There’s a lot riding on today for the three of us. If the judge agrees, I can be done with my probation for good. I touch my split lip. Yeah, that isn’t going to help.

The courtroom door opens and Mr. Jameson walks out, eyes cast down on his phone. There’s a line of worry on his forehead and I walk over and ask again. “Have you heard anything from my sister?”

He looks up and his eyes shift nervously. “Dex, hey, so listen. I talked to the judge. He seems to understand that what happened the other night was not your fault and he’s not going to include the incident in your hearing.”

Relief floods out of me. “Oh thank god.”

“Someone actually came forward from that night and corroborated your story.”

I glance at Starlee. She looks confused, too. “Who?”

Mr. Jameson opens the file and flips through a few pages. He stops on a police report. “It says her name is Christina?”