Page 18 of Caged Bird

When they disappeared inside, I turned on my brother. “She was dead. I saw her with my own eyes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So now you’re accusing me of what? Raising corpses?”

I couldn’t breathe. “Her entire family thinks she died at the bottom of that staircase, Eddie! They held a fucking memorial for her!”

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, but I didn’t miss the arrogance in it. “I wonder why?” He clapped his hands together. “Oh, that’s right! Because you sent them a video that made it look like she was!” He side-eyed me. “How will Ophelia and Vincent Hanover feel if they know you lied to them about something so important?”

“I didn’t lie,” I hissed, trying to keep from yelling because I didn’t want Otis to hear. “You wanted me to think it!”

He slung his arm around my shoulder, using me as a crutch for his injured leg. “Settle down, Zaney boy. I didn’t deliberatelydo anything. I fucking thought she was dead too. But she’s made from tough stuff, that one. The fact she survived only made me love her more.”

I shrugged off my brother’s embrace. “And what? She just started loving you back? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Because that’s so hard to believe? That a woman as beautiful as her would want me when nobody else fucking did?”

And there it was. The abandoned child inside the forty-year-old man.

I had no sympathy for him. Our father had left me too. It didn’t mean I went around hurting people the way my brother did.

“You don’t seriously think that woman loves you? After everything you’ve done to her?”

Eddie glared at me. “You’re all grown-up, Zane, but still know nothing about the real world, do you? Have you even fucking had a girlfriend?”

I said nothing. Because he was right. I hadn’t. When would I have had time for a relationship? In between work and being our mother’s caregiver, all while looking over my shoulder every five minutes for the brother I’d prayed every day was dead, even though I just knew that would be all too easy and life was never that fucking kind?

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you a nice bitch to bounce on your virgin cock while you’re here.”

I didn’t bother telling him I wasn’t a virgin. That I’d scratched that itch with random hookups in my truck, fast, quick, and dirty. Women whose names I didn’t remember and faces I hadn’t truly seen, all because there was only one woman I’d ever wanted in my arms.

And she’d just looked at me like I was the scum on the sole of her shoe.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around watching her play happy family with my psychotic brother. I’d already done that for years, back when they’d first been together. “I’ve done what you wanted. I drove you home. You’re here with your family to take care of you. Clearly, your symbiotic relationship works for the two of you, so whatever. I’m leaving.”

I moved to the driver’s side of the truck, but Eddie’s hand grabbed me like a snake striking its prey.

“You’ll stay for lunch. My woman isn’t in there slaving away to make you a meal, only to have you turn around and walk out before she even gets it to the table.”

I opened my mouth to protest again.

Eddie stretched nonchalantly.

But the move was as calculated as they came, perfectly designed to show off the gun shoved in the waistband of his sweatpants.

I was sure he hadn’t had that when I’d picked him up from the hospital. He must have grabbed it when he’d gone inside to get Fawn.

When I took too long to answer, he spelled it out in words. “Do I need to remind you about who’s babysitting Mommy right now? The quicker you come inside and have a meal and a chat, the quicker you can leave.”

I ground my molars, knowing there was nothing to do but agree. If I didn’t, I’d either be marched inside with a gun pointed at my kidneys, or worse, Eddie’s guys would do something to hurt Mom.

I strode toward the house without another word, leaving my brother to limp after me. Asshole. I hoped that fucking gunshot wound hurt.

The inside of Eddie’s house was spotlessly clean, but the furniture was old and mismatched. Like most of it had been picked up at garage sales or charity stores. The front dooropened into a small living room on the right, an even tinier dining room on the left that housed a four-person table and chairs. A cheap plastic vase sat in the middle, but there were no flowers.

It was oddly sterile. As was the whole house. Like it was a display home, rather than one a family lived in.

I couldn’t put my finger on why. But it was a similar feeling to the one I had in my own home.

Like little happiness had been shared between these walls and the vibe in the air knew it.

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