Page 36 of Another Damned Storm
Matty closed his eyes and shook his head.
“She died a couple of years ago,” Angie said quietly before burying her head in his broad chest.
“Oh,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” How many times had I apologized since I’d gotten back?
And how many more times would I say those words before some of the guilt began to ease?
He gave her a quick squeeze before releasing his hold on her. “Go on. Maybe we can renegotiate who gets to cook dinner later.”
When she was seated at the kitchen table with her books and notebooks spread out in front of her, Matty and I sat back down on the couch.
“Angie, huh?” I asked quietly.
He offered me a tired smirk. “Angela Never Hinkins.”
It was my turn to swallow and blink back tears. My little brother named his daughter after me?
“It’s a beautiful name.”
“I figured I would spare her from Moira, since you hated it so much.” He dropped me a wink, and I let out a watery laugh.
“Angie suits her.”
We were both watching her when she turned her head, looking every inch the irritated teenager. “You know I can hear you.”
“Pretend like you can’t,” Matty fired back.
She lifted her chin for a second like she was going to argue, then turned her attention back to her homework. It took some serious effort not to laugh.
“She’s a pistol,” he said.
“I see that.”
“She got the attitude from her mom.”
I snorted a laugh. “Sure.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he leaned back and propped his ankle on his knee. “It’s so strange seeing you looking exactly like you did back then.”
“Imagine how I feel.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Good point. This must be…”
“Surreal,” I finished for him. It also felt like I read the first chapter of a book then jumped to the middle, and now I had no clue what the fuck was happening. “When did this all start? With the storms and the demons?”
He leaned his head back on the couch. “About five years ago, give or take.”
“And it’s getting worse?”
“Every day it seems like, but it’s really been ramping up in the last three years or so.” He went quiet for a moment before adding, “Fiona, Angie’s mom, was killed in a demon attack.”
“Right in front of him,” Angie added solemnly.
He pointed to the table. “What did I say about homework?”
She glared at him, then turned to me. “He never talks about her.”
“Enough, Angie,” he barked, and we both flinched. He closed his eyes, balled his hands into fists in his lap, and took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry.” Then he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he looked at his daughter. “It’s been a long day. There was another attack this afternoon, and that’s where I found your aunt.”
