Page 7 of Walking Red Flag

She was silent for a long moment before she said, “And you told her why you were saving it?”

“Yes,” I answered. “About a hundred times. I told her everything, and repeatedly told her why I was doing what I was doing, and she still didn’t care.”

“Fuck her, then,” Keely grumbled. “What a bitch.”

It did make her a huge bitch.

Mostly because the reason we were saving money—all three Clayborne siblings that were currently not incarcerated—was for a very good cause.

Our older brother, Copper, was currently in prison.

He would be for another two and a half years.

He’d gone in at seventeen, and now, fifteen years later, he was on the tail end of a seventeen-year sentence.

“I fucking hate him.”

She didn’t have to tell me who “him” was. Instinctively, I knew who she was talking about. I fucking hated him, too.

When the Clayborne siblings—me, Chevy and Copper—were all young, we’d thought we had a good life. Keely, on the other hand, had a shit life.

Sure, we thought on the outside that it was just our dad being a complete asshole to the one and only girl in the house. He’d always single her out. He’d make her do the dishes and the laundry. She’d have to clean everyone’s room and take out the trash.

Pretty much, from a young age, Keely was a slave to my dad.

Chevy, Copper, and I had done our best to mitigate the strain my dad put on her, but we were working our asses off from the time we were twelve and thirteen. We were running paper routes, mowing lawns, and doing anything and everything that twelve- and thirteen-year-old boys could do to make some extra money.

All of that money went into a pool, and the four of us had split it evenly, living on what we made.

Sure, our dad paid the mortgage and kept a roof over our heads, but he didn’t do much more than that. We were responsible for buying ourselves clothes, food, and whatever else we might need.

Meanwhile, our dad sat on his cash throne, and lorded over us, making our lives miserable as hell.

What we didn’t realize until later was that the moment our little sister turned thirteen, and started looking like a woman, our asshole father had started to turn his attentions on her.

At seventeen, Copper had come home from his after-school job early because he’d gotten hurt at work. He’d walked in through the back yard because he’d wanted to check on our dog, and when he’d come in the back door, it was to see our father trying to force himself on Keely.

Keely who’d just given up and showed no fight.

Copper had lost his fucking mind, and when the dust settled, our father was dead.

He’d taken one too many fists to the temple and hadn’t survived the trauma.

And because of who our father was outside of the home—a prominent, well-loved real estate mogul who was a cherished member of society—a judge had thrown the book at Copper.

Copper’s reasoning behind his lost control wasn’t a good enough reason, and he’d been given the max amount of time they could give to him without outraging the public—and trust me, the trial was huge, and the public had been closely watching.

So, at seventeen and three-quarters, Copper had been sent to the biggest and most secure penitentiary in Texas to serve his sentence.

After that had gone down, Chevy, Keely and I had been forced to live with our grandparents in Michigan, a whole day’s drive away from Copper.

The moment that I’d turned eighteen, I’d joined the Navy in hopes that I could help support Keely and Chevy.

Nine months after me, Chevy had graduated and joined the Navy as well.

That left Keely all by herself in Michigan.

She’d stayed the last year before she’d flown the coop the moment that she turned eighteen and had also followed us into the Navy.

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