Page 99 of Bad & Bossy

“Should I call the cops?”

“No, I think Bobby might have left it open,” Gray said, stepping inside and checking the table by the door. “All of your keys are still here. Anyone who wanted to break in would be an idiot if they didn’t take one of your cars.”

I joined him inside as I pulled up the security footage on my phone. The last motion at the door was two hours ago, and I clicked the file to open it.

Gray went on ahead as I watched the footage of Bobby stepping out onto the front porch, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand as he shouted something down the phone. He paced for a few minutes, practically stumbling, before slipping back inside and leaving the door wide open.

Shit, is that how I look when I’m drunk?

“Cole!”

The urgency in Gray’s voice had me running. I sprinted up the stairs, taking them faster than I’d been able to in weeks. Around the corner at the top of the staircase, through the theater, into the game room?—

“Call an ambulance!” Gray shouted, but oh fuck, things were blurring, and no, no, no, why was Bobby on the floor? What was the white shit coming out of his mouth?

“Cole!” Grayson shouted again, the fear and trepidation in his voice mixing with anger but I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t let myself blink and let time go?—

“Nine-one-one, do you need police, fire, or ambulance?”

The sound entered my left ear and I couldn’t remember dialing, but I was aware the phone was in my hand. “Ambulance,” I croaked. My heart raced, my hands shook, my chest roared with far too much fear and anger.

“I’m connecting you now.”

“Cole,” Gray said again, his jaw fucking steel as he held two fingers to Bobby’s neck and another two on the inside of his wrist. “There’s no pulse.”

Chapter 36

Dana

Six months.

I hadn’t talked to him in six months.

No matter how much time has passed, I still found myself falling asleep questioning everything, thinking of him, and replaying the good memories over and over until sleep finally found me. I missed him with everything in my being, and with each passing day, what Dad had said to me made more and more sense.

I didn’t think I could handle life alone, and I chose to fight it with her so I wouldn’t have to.

Maybe Dad was the one that was stronger than me.

“Can you pass the syrup?”

I picked up the jug and passed it across the table to Mom. That was a new addition to my life—trying to work things out with her, or at least get to a point of tolerating being in the same room.

It was a slow-moving process.

“Mama!”

I grinned at Drew as he kicked in Vee’s lap, one arm outstretched to me, my mouth wrapped around a bite of pancakes. “What?” I said, the sound muffled.

He was officially one year old as of a week ago, and the party Lottie had insisted on throwing for him had ended in a screaming match between me and my mother, and a two-man food fight between Brody and Drew. Our brunch date was a sort of reconciliation.

“When do you start classes?” Mom asked, and I dragged my gaze away from my son to look at her.

It was as if I were seeing her in a new light. She looked different, better, but I supposed that was a byproduct of eating real food instead of only drinking alcohol.

“Next week.”

“What’s your major?”

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