Page 74 of Gifts

She pushes away from me. “You had a new security system installed?”

“Why do you think I’m okay with your kids playing outside?”

“Are you serious?” she practically yells.

I put my hand to her lower back and pull her to me, ignoring her expression and whatever else she’s thinking right now. She’ll get used to it. “I’m always serious about security.”

She tries to push away again, but I don’t let her. “I have a security system, Asa.”

“No, you had a couple of glass-breakage noise detectors. If you think that was a barrier for anything or anyone, you’re crazy. Now you have motion detectors around your entire property, cameras everywhere, and silent alarms that alert me, my men, and my contact at the CIA since my house was shot to shit.” I hold up my phone that shows a shitload of people all climbing out of their cars. And by shitload, I mean seven, all ranging from an elderly woman who’s using a cane to the youngest boy who looks a little older than Knox.

“The CIA?” she exclaims.

I shrug. “Only for now until we can figure out who’s trying to fuck with me, my kids and, by extension, you.”

“You’re unbelievable!” she spits out on a breath.

I narrow my eyes. “You and my daughter were shot at and you ended up with stitches from a bullet graze. You’d better believe I’m fucking serious about this.”

She opens her mouth to either argue more or try to justify her shit security system—when in reality, the fucking donkey gives her a quicker response to any intruder—but she’s interrupted by a rumpus and voices at the front door, the loudest of which has a shaky southern accent that carries through her big house.

“Keelie Elizabeth Lockhart, where are you?”

Keelie’s eyes slowly close and her head falls forward onto my chest.

Her fingers grip my biceps when the elderly woman’s voice keeps getting louder with the clomping beat on the hardwoods. “Saylor told me you have a man in the house!”

I lean down to put my lips on the top of her head and try to keep from laughing when another female’s voice joins the party. “And there’s an Infiniti in your garage with new tags! Did you win the lottery and not tell me, bitch?”

I laugh out loud and Keelie presses tight, muttering into my chest, “That’s my sister.”

“Watch your mouth, Stephanie Lynn!”

The banging against the wood floors gets louder. When I look over Keelie’s head, I see a small, white-haired woman appear from around the corner gripping a cane. “Keelie, your brassiere’s showin’!”

I feel Keelie lift her head, but she doesn’t let go of me and looks pained. “That’s my great-aunt, Lillian Rose.”

I smile at the old woman, but she frowns back. “That’s Miss Lillian Rose to you, Mister.”

A younger woman with bleached blond hair turns the corner and stops next to the old woman. She’s taller than Keelie and looks older, but I can tell they’re related. A huge grin takes over her face and she drawls, “Nice.”

Keelie groans and face plants in my chest again.

Brunch is going to be interesting.

*****

Keelie

“Mommy.” Saylor crawls up from under the table, appearing between Asa and me. “Pleeease, can I go play? I’m sooo full.”

Brunch is mostly done, and like always, she’s had ants in her pants for the last twenty minutes. She’s bounced and crawled all over her chair, invaded Levi’s personal space, and now she’s acting as if she’s going to die if she has to sit another second. My parents worry about me raising two kids by myself enough, so I always make her sit at the table longer than usual during brunch, pretending I have my shit together as a parent, but sitting for Saylor is a relative term on a good day.

I try to drag her up, but Asa yanks her out of my hands and pulls her onto his lap as he gives me a small frown and I know what that’s about. It’s been almost two days—I doubt I’m going to tear my stitches at this point. If anything, they’re simply itchy.

As much as I want to keep her here because she’s a distraction from my family, I give in. “Go play.”

Asa lifts her and puts her feet to the floor. All the children under the age of twelve must have taken that to mean they’re excused too, because Knox and my nephews, Sam and Simon, all take off from the dining room like a streak of lightning.

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