Page 82 of Reclaimed

“You afraid of your big brother?” I yank my phone from my pocket and hit Isla’s name from the call list.

“No. I’m afraid of yours though.”

Lee is someone to fear when his family is in trouble. He’s been looking out for me since he was twenty and I was twelve. “Shut up and drive, Silas.” I hit the red button when her voicemail picks up.

“I can’t order you to stay behind, can I?”

Me:

Where are you?

My headlights flashwhen I hit the fob. “Nope.” My phone clatters onto the dash where I toss it. “See you there.” The slam of my door suppresses his response.

Halfway to Isla’s house, my phone vibrates on the dash. A quick glance slows my heart back to normal levels.

Isla:

I’m on my way to my ultrasound appointment.

Fucking hell.That’stoday?Of all the days for something to go sideways. I step on the gas. I need to get there before someone tries to get in touch with her. I’m not going to let this ruin what should be one of the most exciting milestones of her pregnancy.

Six cruisers line the street in front of Isla’s fourplex. Silas screeches to a stop behind me, his red and blue lights still flashing overhead.

“I should cuff you,” he snarls as we meet on the sidewalk.

“Go ahead. After I get to my girlfriend’s ultrasound appointment.”

“Shit. Is it soon?”

I don’t fucking know, but I pretend like I do. It struck me on the way over that my family and friends will find it odd I’m not there with her, and they’ll be doubly pissed when they find out I missed it to spend time in a bar.

“Soon as I can get out of here.”

“We can handle this.”

“I need to know what happened so I can give it to her gently once her scan is over. If anyone calls her before that, you’re going to have me to deal with.”

Silas nods, the usually laidback cop turning solemn at my tone.

“Got it. Let’s go.”

I follow him along the concrete walkway and up her rickety wooden steps. I need to refinish these for her. It’ll be dangerous to carry the baby up and down them, and the railing could use a tightening too.

Two officers stand in Isla’s living room. From my place in the entry, the room looks untouched. I breathe a sigh of relief that this room isn’t trashed. Hopefully the rest of the place is in similar shape. Her older neighbor—June, Jill, Julia?—gives a tearful statement to one officer while the other snaps photos.

“Hot boyfriend!” she cries, pushing Silas out of the way and plowing into my chest.

“Oh, okay. Hi.” I awkwardly pat her back as her shoulders shake with her sobs. Her graying tendrils tease the edge of my mouth. I grimace. An old wooden spoon is clutched tight in her fist, and every few seconds it hits me in the back of the head. “What happened here?”

“Who are you?” barks the cop closest to me. Officer Nelson if I remember correctly. I’ve seen him around town over the years, but we’ve never spoken.

“He’s the boyfriend.”

His brows jut inward sharply. “Hers?” he jabs his pen incredulously at the old women clinging to me, currently feeling up my biceps.

“No. I’m with the woman who lives in this unit.”

“I wish,” Isla’s neighbor murmurs.

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