Canon (Klein Brothers 2)

Seeing a Post-it Note next to my phone with a reminder to tell Reid some news, I smiled apologetically. “Sorry, man, I just have a lot going on. I’m sure the owner of the dog that pissed on your tire is sorry about it.”

If it was possible, his glare intensified. “I told you that story last week, not today.”

Oops.

Rubbing my face with both hands, I sighed tiredly. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t care, I just have a lot of shit in my brain just now.”

My exhaustion must have been more visible than I’d intended, because he immediately looked concerned. “It wasn’t an important story, just one that was bugging me, so don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

“I guess.” I shrugged, then plucked the neon yellow Post-it up. “Listen, I’ve got something I need to tell you. Mrs. Gallagher came by just after I got here earlier and dropped off some brownies to say thanks for something I did for Mrs. Brewer.”

Reid’s expression changed completely at the mention of Mrs. Gallagher, the grandmother of a girl he’d gone to high school with. One that his best friend had almost killed accidentally. It was a long and tragic story from start to finish, and I knew what I was about to tell him would have a large impact on him. I just didn’t know if it would be a positive or negative one.

“What did she say?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his shoulders tense.

“She rang Ryanne a couple of days ago to tell her about Eoghan Gallagher’s illness.”

Reid’s eyes narrowed. Ever since the accident—which was followed by the dissolution of Ryanne’s parents’ marriage and her moving away with her mom—he’d looked after her dad, Eoghan, helping him out wherever he could.

Six months ago, Eoghan had been diagnosed with some form of cancer, and Reid had stepped up big time. He now took him to his appointments and helped him out at home, even though someone was employed to do it. He picked up prescriptions, did the front and back yards for him, took his car to the garage, you name it.

“He didn’t want her to know, man,” Reid muttered. “She hasn’t been back to see him since the accident, but she calls him every couple of days. He thought if she knew, she’d feel like she had to come and visit him or look after him, and he said he’d ruined her life enough to last a lifetime.”

Honestly, from what I knew about the whole thing, I wouldn’t say he’d ruined her life. Both he and her mom played their own parts in what’d happened, that was no lie, but Ryanne had survived, and her best friend hadn’t. Neither had Reid’s. It’d changed where she’d been headed, sure, but she was still breathing.

Again, though, I didn’t know all the nuances of her story, so I guess I couldn’t make that judgment.

“She’s still his daughter, Reid, and she deserved to know. Her grandmother had a right to tell her.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so he just shrugged. “Okay, so what did Ryanne say after Mrs. G told her?”

“I think she’s planning to come back and help out, but she doesn’t want Eoghan to know. It’s going to be a surprise.”

Reid whispered something under his breath and stood up. “Right. If you hear anything else, can you let me know?”

“Of course. Are you okay?”

Rubbing his chest, he winced. “I don’t know. It happened just before we graduated, and that was such a long time ago, but I still feel wrecked by it, and I wasn’t even there. Yes, I miss my best friend, and I’m angry at Hank for driving when he was drunk and killing Jolene, but I still miss him.

“I also feel for Ryanne because a lot of shit came out that day, and her life changed completely. Then she was in a car accident that killed her best friend and almost stopped her ever walking on two legs again. I still feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, waiting as an eighteen-year-old for the right moment to ask her out. Then I’m at two different funerals, watching victims—plural—being buried because, regardless of what he did, Hank was still a victim. His dad beat him to hell and back, and he was just trying to escape before he was killed.”

Told you. It’d been a bad accident, filled with more tragedy than most people would ever be able to comprehend.

“Hank’s dad was charged and sentenced, Reid. Don’t forget that.”

“I know, Canon. Jesus Christ,” he hissed, “I testified at the trial.”

He had. Unbeknownst to my family and me, Reid had been documenting Hank’s injuries for the last two years. His dad had been too powerful physically for Hank to stand up to before he’d left school, and he hadn’t had anywhere else to move with his mom, so they’d kept photos and in depth accounts of what was happening to them both.