Page 27 of Reclaiming Kendall

Mav must've been prepared for him to say that, because the words are barely past the officer's lips before he lets him know, "That's my wife and brothers."

There's a flash of confusion on the man's face, "Frank said you were the only other sibling."

In the midst of our conversation, I hadn't realized that the other officer holding the teenager had gone quiet watching our exchange. He scoffs at this, "Dave, they're the brother husbands, if you know what I mean."

I don't get a good look at this other officer before both of their eyes flit to me with more curiosity than necessary, and the tension turns up a notch. I physically watch Mav's fists clench at his thighs as Teagan shifts from one foot to the other, and Grant stands straighter. I'm not sure if he means it to come off as more intimidating, but even not at his full height, he's imposing. There's no way I'd want to go fist to fist with him were I a man.

The only one who doesn't react is Lucas, which isn't surprising to me. We share a lot of the same feelings on this. We know there will always be curious stares or whispers behind our backs. I grew up with that shit, so I've got a pretty hard shell around me these days. Lucas is just more level-headed than most men.

Now, that's not saying he wouldn't fight for me if shit were to go down, because he would. He simply thinks before he acts.

"Officer Roden, let them inside," a deep voice barrels out the front door.

As much as I want to be petty and sneer at him, I don’t like the attention he and his partner give me. Keeping my head up as I follow half of my men into the house, I can't help but to notice the obvious staring of the teenager out of the corner of my eye.

Walking through the front door is like taking a giant leap into my past. The whole place is trashed. It looks like someone drove something sharp through the walls and drug it from one room to the next. Pictures are off the wall, broken and scattered across the floors. A quick look in the living room, showcases couch cushions and pillows that have been ripped open with their stuffing littering all flat surfaces. Definitely a scene from my past. On more than one occasion, actually. I tuck that shit deep down where it can't try to resurface while we're here. I'll deal with it later if I need to.

"How're you doing, son?" the man who is clearly Detective Gillium addresses Mav.

Sticking to his usual demeanor, Mav ignores his question and asks one of his own, "Where's my mother?"

Gillium shakes his head slowly, "She's not here right now. We had to take her for the safety of herself and others. It'll probably be best that we let her rest for tonight, but I'll leave that to your discretion. First, we've got some hoops to jump through. How much do you know about what went on here tonight?"

Mav's face drops down into a dark frown, "That depends. Are we being questioned as witnesses?"

The detective runs his bottom lip through his teeth and replies with another question, "Were you a witness, son?"

There's a tense moment of silence where we're all left wondering what's going to happen when Maverick lets out a soft sigh, "No, sir. I wasn't a witness. We were at home when my cousin, who's now in handcuffs on the front porch, called to tell me what was going on."

I'm prey to attention again as Gillium's eyes find me where I'm clutching Grant's arm. It's not weird like it was from his co-workers, though. I don't get that creep vibe from him. He's older with a graying beard and tanned face. Between that and the broken-in cowboy boots that cover his feet, it's easy to see that he's been around the block in this profession. If I had to guess, I'd say there isn't much that he hasn't seen over the years. We aren't really a new spectacle for him.

"We're going to have an open investigation into who wrecked the house," he confesses. "There are two different stories we're being told, and we're not sure which one is the truth at this point."

Mav crosses his arms over his chest as Gillium continues, "Your stepdad says your mama was the one who tore this place to shambles, but she says it was all your cousin. Now, I'm not going to lie to you and say your mama wasn't messed-up when we took her out of here. It'd be an easy fix if your cousin would just open his mouth and tell us what he knows about what happened. For whatever reason, he refuses to utter one damn word to any of us. If you can get him to tell us then we'll get him out of those handcuffs and he won't see the inside of my jailhouse tonight. Because, unfortunately, it's one word against another, and I have to take them both in."

"I get that," Mav agrees easily. "I'll try to talk to him, but Will has always been difficult."

"Well, maybe a night in lock-up will cure that case of the teenage blues for him then," Gillium threatens. He tosses an arm around Mav's shoulders, "Come on, son. Let's go give him his options."

"Are we good to start cleaning up in here, or no?" Lucas asks before they're out of earshot.

Gillium takes a look around before answering, "I think we've got everything we need in here, so feel free."

I watch the two of them head out onto the porch where Will still sits against the rail with an officer on each side of him. A bit dramatic if we're being honest, especially after seeing how said officers treat people. I'm just glad they stayed within sight of the front door. They head down the stairs with Gillium as I hear Mav's deep timbre flowing back in. Not wanting to look like a nosey Nancy, I make my way into the kitchen in search of a trash bag.

I was hoping the destruction was limited to the front of the house, but I'm wrong. It looks like a bomb went off in the kitchen. There are dirty dishes everywhere and trash galore. In a house as nice as this one, it looks so out of place that it's almost comical. Whatever went down here over the past couple weeks couldn't have been good. My mind travels back to the kids, and I hope they're okay. Teenagers are more resilient and will bounce back faster than the younger kids.

I had wanted to start on the living room since it's the first thing everyone sees when they walk in, but I can't just walk out of the kitchen with it like this. Before anyone comes to find me, I've already gotten three bags full of trash that needs to go out and a load of dishes started in the dishwasher.

My head snaps up at a voice that I don't recognize coming from the doorway, "She's gone crazy before, but never like this."

Will leans against the frame with his arms crossed much like how Mav was standing earlier. I don't know the story behind his life or how he came to live here, and I'm not sure how much shame he feels to be caught in the middle of all this.

I say the only thing I can as I shrug a shoulder, "I didn't really know her."

"Jesus Christ," Mav growls as he stalks into the room with us, "they've got her strapped down to a bed in the crazy bin somewhere, but she's not dead. You don't have to talk about her like that."

Will's head drops as his eyes go to the floor, and I must be blatantly displaying my hurt, because Mav immediately curses and apologizes. He pulls me into a hug that's tight enough to almost cut off my air supply, but I don't pull away. Wrapping my arms around him, I squeeze back with as much vigor as I can.

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