“How about a drink? Think there’s a bottle of that expensive vodka you like stashed somewhere in the kitchen.”
“It’s under the sink. Behind the cleaning supplies. But no, thanks.” If he started drinking now, he wouldn’t stop until he passed out, and this day would become nothing but a fuzzy memory.
“All right.” Keith didn’t speak again, just sat there. A silent, steady support.
After a few moments, he asked, “Where is it?”
“It?” The frown of disapproval on Keith’s face had JP feeling like a scolded child.
Fucking up already.
“The, uh, my—the baby.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, Kayla. Where’s Kayla?”
Keith met his gaze. “Your daughter is asleep upstairs.” Though he’d always have all his siblings’ backs in any way they needed, Keith wasn’t one for shirking responsibilities. Hell, the man spent years managing their abusive drunk of a father on his own so the old man’s poison wouldn’t contaminate his younger siblings. Yeah, Keith was a rock, but he’d also make sure JP understood he had a child he couldn’t hide from forever. “Miss Lila from next door lent Mickie something called a Pack-n-Play. It’s like a portable crib thing. She said you can keep it until you get a real crib.”
Jesus. A crib? He’d need to get a ton of stuff, wouldn’t he? Where did he even begin? Would he have to move out? Get a place where the baby wouldn’t bother his siblings if it—she—cried? Did she have clothes and bottles and whatever else babies needed?
Oh God, what did babies even need?
“Hey,” Keith said, squeezing his shoulder. “One task at a time, okay? How about you come upstairs and meet your daughter.”
No!
The word was on the tip of JP’s tongue, but he managed to keep it from bursting out. The only thing that prevented him from refusing was the hatred of disappointing Keith even more. His stomach cramped, but he nodded.
All of a sudden, Keith’s face transformed. The smile he typically saved for his girlfriend lit him up. “She’s damn cute, brother. Pretty sure I’m gonna be her favorite uncle, but I might have to fight Mickie for overall favorite. Also, prepare yourself, that little cutie of yours has done something weird to both Mickie and Ronnie.” A look of confusion swept across Keith’s face that JP would have found comical in any other situation. “They’re talking about their ovaries exploding or some weird shit like that.” He shrugged.
Keith had recently moved in with Mickie, who lived across the street.
JP nodded. “What happened to the social worker?”
Keith chuckled. “What do you think happened? Scarlett made an appearance. Swear to Christ, man, when Mickie is in Hollywood mode, she could talk a rock into doing her bidding. Scary how that woman can get whatever she wants. Bethany, the social worker, will be back tomorrow afternoon with the paperwork. “I’ll give you a sec and meet you upstairs. We’ve set her up in my old room for now.”
“Right behind you,” he croaked.
When Keith disappeared, JP blew out a breath and then stood. Every movement felt like slogging through thick mud. His arms hung heavy as though weights dangled off his wrists, and a buzzing in his ears made it difficult to tell if all his siblings were talking upstairs.
He trudged up the steps with a brick in his stomach and a terrifying sense of impending doom. If he’d believed in demons, he’d have sworn one wrapped its wispy arms around his waist and tried its hardest to pull him back toward the basement.
He ran out of steps way too fast, finding himself on the main level of the house in under a minute. A harsh bark of laughter left him.
Everything looked the same. For some ridiculous reason, he’d expected something to appear different. For the house to reflect the way his entire life had changed. But it didn’t. Someone had cleaned from the barbecue, but aside from the sparkling kitchen, everything was as it had been hours ago.
On feet that felt like lead blocks, he made his way toward Keith’s old room. Whispers met his ears. He paused outside the door.
Keith and Mickie stood side by side, staring down into what appeared to be a small crib. The play pack or whatever Keith had called it.
“I love that she looks like a Benson,” Mickie whispered.
JP’s stomach turned. Hopefully, all she got from the Benson side were dark physical features. Dark eyes, dark hair. Unfortunately, many Bensons also came with dark souls and personalities. He’d fought it his entire life with an over-the-top carefree attitude, jokes, and a quick smile. Even still, he could feel it under his skin. A sludge of filth and hatred searching for a way out.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Keith said, voice laced with amusement. “I’ll have to dig up a baby picture of Ronnie because I’m pretty sure they could be twins.”