Page 5 of Return By Fire

But, of course, life happens.

In this case, the trial by fire she was caught in would end up being the best thing to happen to both of us.

CHAPTER THREE

Present Day

Maris spews her coffee. “Jesus, the Queen of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. That nickname is on the mark for your mother.”

Wryly, I inform her, “Dean had some other beauts growing up.”

“Like?” Meadow urges.

I recall a litany of my favorites which include the Dickless Duchess, the Sultana of Satan, and—my personal favorite—the Empress of Eviction. “If he thought we were alone, he’d rip one off. One time he overheard my mother proselytizing about the poor being repulsive and a menace—”

Maris makes a sound of disgust. I go on. “Dean burst into a parody of Saturday Night Live’s Church Lady reprimanding St. Patricia for her poor behavior. One night, he had the entire firehouse rolling.”

“He did this at the station?” Rainey gasps.

“He had an avid audience. Most people with, you know, souls hated our parents.”

“It didn’t take much to send Dean Malone into uber-protective mode. Though over the years I knew him, Dean didn’t need an excuse to mock your parents. All you had to do was say their names—Chip and Pat.” Maris crosses herself as if she can raise them from the dead merely by saying their names.

I follow her motions because the last thing we need is for those two to be reincarnated.

"With you two being so close, how did Jed and Dean never meet? Never talk or FaceTime?” Meadow wonders.

Stuck on the thought of my parents rising from the dead, I say absentmindedly, “They did. Once.”

“WHAT?” is squawked.

“Do you remember what he said to Jed about cockblocking?” Maris drawls.

“They talked about cocks the first time they talked?” Rainey might be faint.

“And it still took them twelve years to meet?” Meadow demands.

Maris shifts. She eyes our friends indolently before mocking, “They didn’t talk long. Kara got in their way.”

“How’s that?” Meadow asks.

My eyes meet Maris’s, and she gives an imperceptible nod. For me to tell this part of the story, I need to resurrect not the devils of my past but the ghosts of hers. I take a deep breath and reply, “When I went into labor.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Twenty Years Ago

Ring. Ring.

I stare at the sleeping form of my younger sister in her hospital bed and curse her damn phone as she stirs in her sleep. Glancing at the display, all it reads is “Dean.”

No last name.

Nothing to give me a clue about whether answering this will harm my sister even more in her current state.

Maris begins to stir, a frown pulling down her brows. I flip open her phone before she can fight off the pain meds and bark as loudly as I dare, “What?”

There’s a slight pause before, “Maris?”

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