Bullets & Bonfires

“He installed central air last spring,” Liam explains.

Something I’d have known if I ever visited my brother. Liam doesn’t say that, but the thought hangs between us. I shiver, but not from the cool air.

“Come on, you must be tired. Why don’t you rest.” His tone conveys it’s an order not a suggestion.

“I can’t. I need to keep busy.”

His mouth twists and he glances down the hall. “I have a few more hours left of my shift, but why don’t I take you out to dinner when I’m done?”

He holds out his hand, inviting me to walk him outside. I so badly want to take it. Have him wrap his fingers around mine, but the thought of going out in public when my face looks like I’ve endured a round with an MMA fighter freezes me in place.

“I don’t think I’m ready to show myself around the old stomping grounds,” I mumble, pointing in the general direction of my messed-up face.

Anger ripples over his features, but his words are gentle.

“I’ll bring groceries and stock the fridge then.”

“That’s sweet. Thank you.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but to me it is. I can’t envision myself doing something as simple as navigating the grocery store right now.

“Get yourself settled. If there’s something in particular you want, text me.”

“Your garlic mashed potatoes?”

“You got it.” This time he takes my hand and tugs me toward the front door.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you…for interrupting your work day.”

He pats the radio at his side. “All’s quiet in our little town—”

A burst of static interrupts him and I laugh. “You had to say it, didn’t you?”

“Never fails,” he mutters as he listens to the request. “I have to go,” he says, hurrying toward the front door.

Nervous, even though I know he won’t be gone long, I follow him.

He seems to sense my unease. “I’ll be back in no time.” He points at the door. “Lock this. I have another key.”

Hell, I’d shove the couch in front of the door if I thought I could move the damn thing. “I will.”

He steps onto the porch, but I stay behind the door. Almost as an afterthought, he turns, pulls me forward and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.

The back of his hand lightly strokes my cheek and I savor the gentle but brief contact. “I’ve missed you, Bree,” he murmurs before hurrying down the stairs and sliding into his car.

Confused from the emotions bubbling up inside me, I stand there and watch him drive away before closing the door.

CHAPTER THREE

Unpacking keeps my mind off of being alone, but how will I survive night after night here by myself until my brother returns?

I’m too restless to check out the television. Too nervous to scavenge for food in Vince’s cupboards.

All my boxes cluttering up the entranceway make me feel like an intruder in the house I grew up in. Except for a few bags of clothes and personal items, I shove everything into the hall closet. Something heavy clatters on the floor, and I lean in to pick up my brother’s old shotgun.

Knowing my brother, the shotgun’s probably loaded, so I carefully place it in the corner and back away. Vince always wanted to teach me to shoot and I’d always said no thanks. I wanted to be an educated city girl who didn’t need to keep a shotgun in the closet to feel safe.

Joke’s on me, isn’t it? Because right about now, if Chad came at me again, I don’t think I’d hesitate to blow a hole in him.

Shaking off the morbid thoughts, I head to Vince’s room to unpack. My anger isn’t as easy to shake off.

The feeling that I’m trespassing increases as I prowl around Vince’s tidy bedroom. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere.

Eventually, I push my unease aside and search for an empty drawer to stash my clothes.

As I suspected, Vince keeps almost nothing in his dresser. Each item I stuff into a drawer gives me a silly feeling of accomplishment. I shake out shorts, tank tops, and other new clothes I bought on my way here. For far too long, I’ve been living in baggy, shapeless garments to appease Chad’s jealousy. It’ll be nice to look like something other than a homeless nun for a change.

“Fuck you, Chad,” I whisper as I close the drawer.

I reach for the very bottom drawer and stop myself. I shouldn’t get too comfortable. Vince will have a shit-fit when he comes home and finds my girly stuff all over his manly house.

“Really making yourself at home there, huh?” Liam’s amused voice startles me and I let out a sharp scream, throwing socks and underwear in the air.

He drops the bags in his hands and reaches for me.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, honey. I thought you heard me come in the house.”

Embarrassed for acting like a nutjob, I squat down and scoop up my scattered unmentionables, stuffing them into the bottom drawer. “I didn’t,” I mumble.

“I’m such a clumsy ox, I thought for sure you heard me thumping my way down the hall.”

Clumsy. That’s not a word I would use to ever describe Liam. “You’re not clumsy. You’re the most graceful big guy I know.”

“That sounded like a compliment, but I’m not sure if I like being described as graceful,” he says, teasing me with my sincere observation.

Laughter spills out of me. Liam’s probably the only person in the world who could make me laugh today.

“I tried calling you,” he says as I follow him down the hallway to the kitchen. “You had me worried.”

“Oh.” I pat my pockets, searching for my cell phone. “My phone must be in my purse.”

Liam’s face shifts from protective friend to hardened cop. It’s a look I’m not used to seeing on him and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I sense I’m about to be on the receiving end of a lecture.

“I need you to keep your phone close. In case of an emergency.”

No reading between the lines needed. “Chad’s not coming here, Liam. I’ll be fine. He wouldn’t dare.”

His expression darkens. “I’m sure you thought he wouldn’t dare hit you either.”

The painful truth—that this wasn’t the first time Chad hit me—isn’t something I can share with Liam. Don’t think I can ever share it with anyone, but especially not Liam.

“The judge denied bail,” I say weakly.

“I know.” By his tone, I suspect he used the few hours away to do some investigating. I’m not sure if I’m relieved to have someone in my corner or embarrassed about whatever intimate details he might have learned.

“Come on.” He forces a smile and points to the grocery bags lined up on the counter. “I’ve got a big sack of potatoes with your name on them,” he encourages.

A mundane task like peeling five pounds of potatoes sounds perfect right about now.

Why the fuck didn’t I yell out a greeting or do something so I didn’t scare the shit out of Bree when I returned to the house?

Then I lectured her, when I’m sure that’s the last thing she wants.

I’m torn. Fucked-up because I don’t know how to handle this. If this were a case I’d been handed—easy. Follow protocol.

Bree? I don’t know how to handle myself around her. I’m burning with the urge to do something meaningful—kicking the shit out of Chad would be a nice start.

Logically, what’s best for Bree?

Be her friend. Keep her safe.

So that’s my plan. For now.

“Are you throwing a party?” she teases as she checks out the overflowing bags of groceries.

“Nah.” I force some enthusiasm into my voice. “Need to make sure you eat more than twigs, berries, and bunny food.” The words still came out way more somber than I intended. Turning, I give her a lopsided grin so she knows I’m teasing. “Vince said you still won’t eat red meat?”

She nods. “You talked to him again?”

I hesitate

before answering. “We spoke.” After I tracked down information about the domestic disturbance that landed Bree in the hospital and Chad in jail. The most painful details I kept from my best friend. They’ve been churning in my mind all afternoon, though. Now that I know more of the story behind her bruises, I’m even more enraged, and struggling to keep myself calm. The last thing I want to do is embarrass Bree.

From my training and experience, I’m aware there’s a good chance she might return to Chad and I’ll be damned if I give her a reason to push me away.

So, I’ll keep what I learned to myself.

She rolls her eyes and reaches into one of the bags on the counter. “I don’t need a vivid imagination to guess how that conversation went,” she grumbles.