Snitches Get Stitches (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 8)

Linnie paused, then nodded her head.

“You told me I go by Hazel because you don’t want your sister or your brother to find me,” she repeated word for word.

My girl had a memory exactly like mine—the ability to remember everything. It was a gift and a curse. A gift for Linnie, I was hoping, and a curse for me. Because, by some great twist of fate, nothing bad had ever happened to my Linnie like it had to me. And I’d fight tooth and nail for it to stay that way.

“The reason Liner can’t come see us is because I don’t want my sister or your uncle Andy to find you,” I said. “Or your grandfather.”

Linnie was already nodding her head. “Because they’re bad.”

I nodded my head.

“Why are they bad?” she pushed.

She’d been doing that lately, asking more questions and accepting less. Not that I could blame her. Her life had completely and totally changed, and if I was being honest, I didn’t really know her all that well. It was quite possible that this was how she was always meant to be. Nosey and full of questions, and I’d just never seen that side of her before. Maybe she was just now finally coming out of her shell where I was concerned and letting her curiosity flow free now that she trusted me more.

I thought about lying to her, and then I realized that Linnie was a smart kid.

She may be five, but she was also highly intelligent, and I could form my explanation in a way that she’d understand but not know all the details.

“My family…” I hesitated, trying to think of the right words that wouldn’t give her nightmares at night about bad people coming for her. “My sister and brother hurt me.” I swallowed. “They hurt me a lot, and my father—your grandfather—let them.” Linnie blinked. “They would’ve hurt you, too, but Uncle Tyson stopped them.”

“Uncle Andy and Aunt Tara,” Linnie said. “Uncle Andy is mean, and Aunt Tara feels like she can see the back of my head through my eyeballs.”

I would’ve laughed had she not been speaking the truth.

My phone dinged, and I glanced at it sitting on the counter next to the eggs I’d been about to cook, then back at my daughter.

“Uncle Andy and Aunt Tara would like very much to hurt me—and you—again. And I don’t want that to happen. Neither does Liner. So we’re hiding,” I explained. “Somewhere where hopefully they will never find us again.”

She looked down at the toast I’d given her to help tide her over until the eggs were finished.

I was proud to say that not only had I gained weight, but so had my daughter. She was by no means chunky—nor was I—but we were definitely a whole lot healthier and less gaunt looking.

On my end—it was because I was actually eating.

Linnie’s, I had a feeling, was likely due to the fact that she was just plain growing. And like a weed at that.

The clothes that had been provided for Linnie based on her size when we were with Liner were now almost an inch too short, and within the next day or two I’d have to find some time after work and before school ended to go get some, or I’d have to take her with me.

Either way it went, she needed new clothes.

And I was happy because, for once, I could afford them. Oh, and buy them.

I’d never been able to dress my baby girl, and now that I was, I was going a little overboard.

“I still miss Liner,” she whispered. “I wish he could’ve moved with us.”

“I know, baby. Me, too,” I said softly. “We’ll make do.”

Because that was what I’d have to do. Make do with what I had.

It was enough.

At least that was what I kept telling myself for the next three months until making do was no longer good enough.Chapter 18My hobbies include trying to close my office door before someone realizes I’m at work.

-Liner’s secret thoughts

Liner

One month later

I looked out my window to, yet again, find Tara standing outside the rental house.

Yanking the blinds back closed before she could see me staring out at her, I waited for the inevitable.

It wasn’t long in coming.

Mrs. Wheeler called five minutes later.

“She’s back,” Mrs. Wheeler snarled. “Why is she standing in my yard like a weirdo?”

“Because she is a weirdo,” I answered. “Did you call the cops?”

“Yes,” she answered. “For the fifth time.”

This had happened a whole lot more than five times, but the Wheelers had only been home a week, and in that week, Tara had been there every single day.

At first, Tara had just started out as sitting in her car, looking. Then it’d turned into her standing outside her car.

Each day, she got closer and closer, until now she was standing in their front yard, staring at their front door, as if waiting for Theo to come out.