Page 99 of Silent Partner (Pine Falls 3)

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That night, I sat at Grandma and Grandpa’s kitchen table, decked out in my pajamas with Oscar in my lap, contemplating my day while sipping some chamomile tea Grandma had made. I was exhausted, but I didn’t want to go to sleep for fear of the never-ending nightmare and Brant coming to my rescue. Instead, I sat there and let Grandma and Grandpa stare at me.

“You can go to bed. I promise I won’t break if you aren’t watching me.” I grinned.

“This is a nasty business, all of it,” Grandma muttered to herself. “I knew something was off with that Jill. What I want to know is what else my tax dollars have paid for. And that John, blackmailing my girl.” She shook her head, all fired up.

Grandpa rubbed Grandma’s back to calm her down. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

Grandma looked down her nose at him. “Sam, are you trying to tell me to calm down?”

Grandpa gave her a sly smile. “Honey, I’ve been married to you way too long to ever suggest such a thing.”

Grandma narrowed her eyes at him. “Uh-huh.”

I appreciated the comic relief they provided. That was, until someone knocked on the door and I about jumped out of my skin while letting out a high-pitched squeal. Poor Oscar startled and jumped off my lap, probably tired of his on-the-edge owner.

Grandpa patted my leg before getting up. “I’ll see who it is.”

Grandma gave me a good once-over, obviously worried about my mental state. She wasn’t the only one. I was going to need some type of desensitizing therapy after this was all said and done. It didn’t make me feel better that Grandpa was keeping a shotgun by the front door now.

Grandpa hollered through the door, “Who is it?” It was late for a visitor. That didn’t give me any fuzzy feelings either.

“It’s Brock.” His voice could be heard loud and clear even though the door was closed.

I think we all took a collective sigh of relief. Well, at least I did. Grandma jumped up, awfully spry for a woman of her age. “I hope Dani’s okay,” she said.

I was back to worrying. I stood and walked to the front too.

Brock was already in and taking off his coat. He looked a little beleaguered, with hair that had definitely had hands run through it. He immediately zeroed in on me. “I know it’s late, but I was hoping to talk to you.”

I wasn’t surprised. Everyone else had had their say.

“Is Dani alright?” Grandma asked before I could answer.

Brock kept his attention on me, making sure I heard his answer. “She’s not well. She’s heartsick over all of this.”

My stomach felt as if it had plummeted. I felt bad, since I had tried to block out Dani’s feelings in this, placing my own pain above hers. I’d admit, I was angry with her. I wasn’t sure I bought this whole claim that they were so overcome by their emotions. My emotions were overcoming me, but you didn’t see me running into the arms of a man to sleep with him. Honestly, that was the last thing I was thinking about doing. And I sure as heck would never think about doing it with a man my sister was in love with.

Brock stepped closer to me. “I can’t stand by and watch her beat herself up like this.” He paused. “I hate seeing you in pain, too, Kins. Everywhere I turn, all the people I love are miserable.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

Grandma looked between me and Brock. “We’ll leave you two alone.”

I wanted to beg her not to leave. I was tired of the emotional ping-pong, and I knew Brock would be bringing out the ping-pong paddle tonight and my heart would act as the ball.

Brock didn’t wait for an invite—he took a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace., a.k.a. my bed.

Grandpa and Grandma each gave me a good long hug before heading upstairs to their bedroom loft. Which meant they would hear every word that was said. That was the problem with their A-frame house. No privacy.

I steeled myself before grudgingly treading over to Brock. He sat on one end of the couch, patiently waiting for me, warily eyeing my cat on the other end.

I picked up Oscar, set him on my lap, and faced Brock, who began to scrub a hand over his stubbled face. He reminded me so much of Brant, it hurt.

“Kinsley,” Brock began, “I know how you’re feeling, so I know you’d rather not talk about this. I want to apologize in advance for what I have to say, but I hope it will help you.” He, more than anyone, would know how I felt.

I curled into myself, bringing Oscar along for the ride. “How do you do it?” is all I could ask.

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