Page 77 of Bad Seed

Harley closed her eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

She was still asleep when Brendan heard voices outside the door, and then the door opening behind him. He turned to look just as his brothers walked in carrying a to-go bag from Granny Annie’s bakery.

“Aunt Annie sent cinnamon rolls and sausage biscuits. Mom sends her love and prayers and the question, ‘When am I going to get to meet her?’” Wiley said, and set the bag on the windowsill beside Harley’s bed.

“Tell her thank you, and soon,” he said.

“How’s she doing?” Aaron asked.

Brendan sighed. “Concussion. Nasty graze. Bad dreams. Have they identified the shooter?”

“Oliver Prine,” Wiley said.

Brendan frowned. “Do you know who sent him?”

“No, and it’s now in the hands of the feds,” Aaron said.

Sean slipped up beside Brendan. “She’s beautiful, BJ.”

Brendan nodded. “Inside and out.”

“Who are her people?” Wiley asked. “Have they been notified?”

“Jason Banks, NASA scientist. Judith Banks, American playwright and screenwriter, and no they haven’t, because she doesn’t want them here.”

Sean frowned. “Enough said, and anyway, you have family to spare.”

Harley’s eyes were still shut, but she quietly entered the conversation. “I can hear you,” she said.

“Good. I’m Sean, the one who said you were beautiful.”

Harley opened her eyes, squinted from the pain, and thought,The brother I had yet to meet.

“Wow, Brendan. You do all look alike.”

“Sean’s the prettiest,” Wiley said.

Sean poked him. “Speak for yourself, dude.”

“Okay, Miss Harley. I think it’s time we leave you to get some rest,” Aaron said. “Brendan already knows this, but there’s a whole mountain full of people saying prayers for your swift recovery.”

Harley frowned, then winced from the motion. “They don’t even know me.”

“They do now,” Aaron said. “If you matter toBrendan, then you matter to them. That’s how it works here. Hope to see you again when you’re feeling better. Brendan, call us if you need us.”

“I will, and thanks,” Brendan said, but as they were leaving, he noticed the flush on Harley’s cheeks, laid the back of his hand on her forehead, and hit the Call button. A few moments later, a nurse answered on the intercom.

“How can we help you, Harley?”

“This is Brendan. I think Harley’s fever is up.”

“Someone will be right there,” she said.

Harley threaded her fingers through his and gave his hand a little tug. “You are something special.”

“So are you,” he said.

She frowned. “Are you going to be in trouble at the hotel for walking out of your shift?”

---