Belle came skipping out of her room and carelessly tossed clothes and blankets and stuffed animals on the small breakfast table. She had a toothy grin and held up one finger. “Wait. I forgot Miss Suzy.”
Belle’s things had nudged some papers on the table, and two envelopes caught Wyatt’s eye. He stepped that direction and found the corners of the envelopes still secured under a vase of flowers he’d seen on one of the tables outside yesterday. The cleaning crew must have brought them inside, because on top of the envelopes sat a business card for the cleaning company.
But he was looking at the sight of his name on both envelopes, one in a female’s delicate hand, and the other—his stomach dropped. Brody’s handwriting. Wyatt recognized the heavy block letters spelling out his name.
He pushed the card aside and plucked the envelopes from the table. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the envelope from his brother while his mind reeled backward. To getting the call from his father, telling Wyatt that Brody had driven himself to their favorite fishing spot, put his favorite Colt semiautomatic to his head, and pulled the trigger. To hearing that the only communication Brody left behind was a suicide note, basically an apology to Francie and his parents.
It appeared he’d left one for Wyatt too. Francie had been a bit of a mess since Brody died. Scattered, depressed, distant. For the longest time, she hadn’t been able to collect herself enough to manage the bills. Maybe she’d forgotten to give the note to him and left it out, knowing Wyatt would be in town for the party. Whatever the reason for its appearance now, Wyatt was more immediately concerned with the other envelope.
He swallowed and opened Francie’s envelope. The tearing sounded obscenely loud in the quiet house. He unfolded the paper as Belle came back into the room and added a stuffed doll to the pile.
“Toothbrush?” Wyatt asked.
Belle scurried toward the bathroom, and everything shifted into slow motion for Wyatt. He hyper focused on B
elle’s shiny dark hair bouncing against her back. Tuned in to the hollow silence in the house. Fought to get his mind to connect thoughts.
With dread and anxiety skittering down his spine, Wyatt focused on the paper in his hand. A document of some kind, with a yellow sticky note on the front that said: “I’m sorry.”
His breathing suspended as he forced his eyes to focus on the title of the form: Legal Guardianship.
“No,” he breathed. Panic washed through his body, tightening muscles and releasing adrenaline. “Please God, no.”
His gaze slid over the legal jargon, confirming his worst nightmare: Francie had signed guardianship of Belle over to Wyatt.
“No, no, no.” This can’t be real.
He turned and strode through the living room, passing Belle on the way to the master bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she asked, swiveling to follow Wyatt like a puppy.
He strode straight to the closet and swung the door open. It was empty. No clothes, no shoes, nothing.
Motherfuckingsonofabitch.
“What are you looking for?”
Belle’s voice startled Wyatt. He turned and blocked the inside of the closet with his body and hastily closed the door. “I, uh—” His brain stalled, and he fought to kickstart it. “I thought there might be a sleeping bag in one of the closets. Thought it might be fun to…you know…do a whole camping theme for the sleepover tonight.”
He had no idea what he was saying. Words were just flowing from his mouth without the consent of his brain. Probably because his brain was still in shock.
“That sounds fun. I’ve never been camping.” Her gaze lowered to the papers still in his hand. “Is that a note from Mommy?”
“Uh…” He looked down at the paper, and tears sprang to his eyes. Tears of rage. Tears of fear. Tears of sadness for Belle. “Yeah, it is. She’s going to be gone a little while.”
His mind slid sideways. His parents were gone for another twenty days. He was due back out on the road in two days. The band had interviews, studio time, and tour stops scheduled.
“Where did she go?”
Belle’s question brought Wyatt’s focus back to his niece. A frown created a crease between her eyes. He dropped into a crouch and took her hand. “How do you feel about staying with me for a bit? Maybe until Grandma and Grandpa get back from their cruise?”
Her face registered concern. “Is Mommy okay?”
“Yes, honey, yes, your mommy is fine.” Until he got ahold of her. “So what do you think?” he asked with a boulder in his gut. “Want to hang with me for a bit?”
She smiled. “That would be fun.”
God, this kid was amazing. Full of life and love. She was so innocent in all this, yet she would be hurt the most.