Page 53 of Myla: The Hawthornes

Will slapped me on the back and walked over to the coffee pot, pressing a finger against it to check the temperature. It must’ve been warm enough because he proceeded to make himself at home as he searched for a mug.

“I’m going to the hospital,” Saoirse announced.

I turned to face her as Brody stood up.

“Take Brody with you,” I ordered.

“I don’t need him to come,” Saoirse argued.

“Nonnegotiable.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she griped, staring at me in exasperation.

“I’ll follow on my bike,” Brody said.

“Thank the good Lord for that,” Saoirse muttered under her breath. She hurried over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before swinging back around.

“You better hurry, Brody,” Myla mused, watching Saoirse go. “I think she’ll leave without you.”

“The fuck she will,” Brody replied, following my sister.

“I’m guessin’ it’s never a dull moment around here,” Will said, lifting a cup of coffee to his mouth.

“Coffee’s hot?” I asked tiredly, walking toward him.

“Warm enough,” he replied.

“Me too,” Myla ordered, following behind me. “Your sister always has the good stuff.”

Will watched us over the top of his mug. “No offense—”

“That’s never a good way to start a sentence.”

“You look like shit,” he said flatly, ignoring my comment. “I’m gonna go sit on the porch a while and call my woman. I’ll keep an eye on things. You two should get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Myla argued.

“He’s not,” Will replied, pointing at me.

I thought about it for a moment. If I was honest, I felt ready to drop. It wouldn’t be long before I wasn’t much good to anyone. A few hours on the couch would be enough to get me level again.

“Thanks,” I said with a nod.

“No problem.” He leaned over and kissed the top of Myla’s head. “Stop talkin’ long enough for him to fall asleep, yeah? Once he’s out, I doubt your chatterin’ will wake him.”

“I don’t talk that much,” she huffed.

Will smiled at her and walked out of the room. Then it was just Myla and me in the kitchen, the house quiet around us as the front door opened and shut again.

We stared at each other.

Shit was swirling around us. The unknowns seemed to be mounting, and my baby sister was getting worse instead of better. Richie still hadn’t woken up. Somewhere, if he wasn’t dead, was a man that I’d stabbed and left to die. That man had a boss that probably wasn’t real happy.

But inside that kitchen, it was just Myla and me, and neither one of us had any idea what to say.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Myla finally asked.

“What?” I shook my head to clear it.

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