Page 60 of Cannon
She appeared from the kitchen, and what I saw stopped me cold. Her face was tear-streaked, but her eyes… her eyes were clear. Steady. Like someone who’d finally put down a weight they’d been carrying too long.
“Hey,” she said softly.
I moved toward her, arms out, ready to play my part.
She wrapped her arms around my waist, her body melting against mine in a way that felt different than any hug we’d shared before. There was something intimate about the way she pressed into me, her face buried in my chest, her fingers digging into my back.
“I know it was you,” she whispered, her lips brushing against my shirt.
My body went rigid. Her touch made me uncomfortable.
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, those eyes, almost seductive. “I know you took care of Gage.”
“I told you I would. He crossed the line putting that bruise on your face.”
“Thank you,” she said, her hands sliding up my chest in a way that made my skin prickle with unease. “Thank you for protecting me. For protecting us.”
The relief in her voice was a relief for me. I didn’t feel like going back and forth with her about this. I’ve always protected her.
But something was off in her approach. The way she was looking at me.
And she didn’t let go. Instead, she pressed closer, her body soft against mine, her face tilting up toward me in a way that crossed a line we’d never even approached before. For a split second, I felt something that made my stomach turn, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but because she was my sister. Even though we weren’t blood related. I still was disgusted at the way she was touching me.
I stiffened, confusion and discomfort washing over me as I firmly set her away from me, my hands on her shoulders creating necessary space. Then it hit me. I could smell the liquor on her breath. Perhaps she was just drunk and distraught from Gage.
Before either of us could say another word, the sound of small feet pounding down the stairs broke the moment. Hunter and Josiah burst into the room, their faces streaked with tears, their pajamas rumpled from restless sleep.
“Uncle Cannon!” Hunter cried, his voice breaking on my name.
They crashed into me like tiny wrecking balls, their small bodies shaking with sobs as they latched onto my legs. I immediately dropped to one knee, gathering them against me, grateful for the distraction from whatever the fuck had just happened with Reese.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I murmured, one arm around each of them. “I got you.”
“Dad’s dead,” Josiah wailed, his little face crumpling. “The police said someone hurt him real bad.”
Hunter’s eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, searched my face. “Why would someone hurt Dad? Was he bad to them too?”
That question hit me like a punch to the gut. I glanced up at Reese, who was watching us with that same strange calmness.
“Sometimes bad things happen to people,” I said carefully, rubbing his back. “He’s in a better place now.” Something was off though.
I began to remember what he said about Reese’s spending and gambling problem. And then I remembered when he said, “she’s all yours now.” It didn’t register to me at the time but with Reese’s hug, I was now questioning it. What the fuck did he mean by that? Had she said something about us? Did she want me?
No… it couldn’t be. That’s too disgusting. We grew up together. We were adopted as babies together. Regardless of us not coming out of the same womb, we were siblings.
I spent the next few hours trying to keep things as normal as possible for the boys. We played video games, made some pancakes even though I was tired as fuck, and I let them talk about their dad when they wanted to. I had to pretend like I didn’t hate that nigga. I had to pretend that I didn’t kill him. But my intuition was telling me that perhaps I didn’t have to kill him.
The whole time, Reese kept hovering, touching my shoulder whenever she passed, letting her hand linger too long. Every time she did it, my skin crawled. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t us.
“Uncle Cannon, will you stay forever now?” Josiah asked, his little face pressed against my chest as we sat on the couch. The question hit me like a bucket of ice water.
“Nah, lil man. I got my own place. But I’ll be around whenever you need me,” I promised.
Reese, who’d been in the kitchen, walked in with a glass of what looked like whiskey. “The boys would love it if you moved in,” she said, her voice carrying that same strange tone that made my stomach turn. “We have plenty of room now. You said you didn’t want to stay because this was Gage’s house.”
I met her eyes, trying to read what was happening behind them. Was this grief? Shock? Or something else I didn’t want to name?
“I’m good where I’m at,” I said firmly. “Plus I got work later today.”
