Page 56 of Protecting What Is Mine

24

Hank

I step out of the shower and notice the time on my phone as I anxiously await a reply from Mollie.

Shit, we’re gonna be late. No two ways about it now.

Tonight’s get-together is no typical Wednesday family supper, this is the welcome home supper for Chet. And Jack. And if I don’t get my ass in gear, Mom might sit me at the kids table. For real this time.

Yep, Chet was released from the hospital this morning.

My guess? The nursing staff took a vote and threatened to strike if the doctor didn’t release him. Immediately.

While he’s strictly forbidden from doing anything resembling work for a few more weeks, he’s home with his family again, and that alone is reason to celebrate.

But add in the text I received from Gabe before all hell broke loose with Mollie—the one about Chet, Jr? Apparently, I was supposed to intuit that to be a reference for our brother, Jack. And also apparently, I was supposed to understand it to mean he was stateside and on his way home.

I really hate Gabe some days.

As if all that isn’t monumental enough, Mom officially instructed me to invite Mollie over for her first experience at one of our family suppers. Speaking of which…I wrap a towel around my waist and step over a box of hair products hastily left next to the sink and crack the bathroom door. “Sam?”

“Yeah?” She yells from the living room.

I pop my head into the hallway. “Have you heard anything from Mollie yet? We need to leave, like ten minutes ago.”

Sam raises a brow as she mutes the television. “Good thing you’re all ready to go and just waiting on her then.”

I smirk. “So that’s a no?”

“Sorry, big guy. I can try calling her, but at this point I think she’s more likely to answer for you than me.”

I roll my eyes but wonder if some part of her really believes what she said. “I’ll try her again. Thanks.”

I wipe the steam from the mirror to gauge how overdue I am for a shave and whether I’ll catch hell for my scruff if I show up with it intact. Never mind the greenish-purplish-brown hand sized bruises around my neck or the pain in my jaw. All I notice in the reflection is the cat-that-ate-the-canary smile on my face.

In the two days since the girls came to stay, the house has taken on a totally different feel. The constant back-and-forth chatter and laughing between Sam and Mollie. The stampede of Vanessa and Diesel, running from room to room. Most of the time I’m not sure who’s doing the chasing and who’s being chased. And I’m not sure they would know either, if asked. But, judging by the fact I can’t recall seeing one of them without the other, I’m not sure it matters.

Forgetting about the need to shave, I pick up my phone and try calling Mollie.

Again.

Three rings and voicemail.

Again.

I sigh. “Hey Mol, it’s me. Hope everything is okay, but at this point I’m starting to worry.” I pause as I try to put my thoughts into a coherent, light-sounding message. “Hey listen, if you changed your mind about tonight… You know, realized you aren’t ready for the chaos of my family or whatever, it’s no problem. Really. I need to at least make an appearance, given the welcome home theme and all, but you come on back here and relax and I’ll see you when I get back. Okay? Call me when you get this, so I can stop this silly worrying. Okay, bye.” I end the call and bring my hand to my abdomen as anxiety sets my stomach turning.

Every nerve in my body is tingling, telling me something’s not right.

I slide on my jeans, pull a shirt over my head, and quickly run a comb through my hair before shutting off the light and heading into the living room. “I tried again. Voicemail.”

“Sit. Relax. I’m sure she’s fine.” Sam scooches over on the couch and pats the empty space she created.

“How can I relax? Wasn’t she supposed to get off work an hour ago?”

“Maybe she’s covering for someone. Maybe she got a flat tire, or something.” Sam is doing her best to stay calm, but the pitch of her voice is raised, and I sense she’s as worried as I am.

I take a deep breath. “I guess I’ll swing through town on my way to the ranch. If she did break down, I ought to pass her on the road and can stop to help. And if she didn’t…well, at least I’ll know if her car’s still in the parking lot.”

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