Page 10 of Return of the Bad Girl (Rock Canyon, Idaho 4)

“Honey, your brother is here.”

Honey turned slowly, as if coming out of a trance, and Sharla repeated herself. Shifting toward the door, Honey’s pretty face broke into a bright, joyful smile.

“Gabey!”

Honey struggled to her feet with her hand on the back of the chair, and Sharla put an arm around her waist to steady her. Gabe set the food down on the round table in Honey’s little kitchen just before Honey launched herself against his chest.

Gathering her close, Gabe’s stomach twisted as he rocked her back and forth. “How you doing, baby girl?”

“I painted the mountains! Come and see—oof!”

She had tried to pull away excitedly and would have fallen if he hadn’t kept a hold of her.

“Easy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Honey’s lower lip started to quiver and her eyes filled up with tears as she rubbed her hip. Gabe hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but she easily forgot her limitations, and the last thing he wanted was to see her hurt again. Because of him, she’d already had her leg pieced back together, using screws and pins that had left one leg shorter than the other. Walking too much was painful, and fast movements could sometimes throw her off balance.

“Hey, come on now, where is this picture? You know I want to see it. Maybe I’ll hang it up in my new place.”

Honey’s face immediately split into an excited smile, the sheen in her eyes disappearing. It was one of the side effects of her brain injury that he would never get used to—how rapidly her moods could shift. One minute she’d be laughing and teasing him, and the next she’d be screaming and throwing things. It had scared the shit out of him the first time he’s seen it, and even now it unnerved him.

With his arm still around her waist, she led him over to her easel. Despite her issues with impulse control, Honey hadn’t lost any of her artistic talent. She had captured the snowcapped mountains and the cloudy spring sky. It might not have been as cleanly detailed as her work before the accident, but it was still beautiful.

It had actually been Honey’s love of art that had brought her and Chase together when they were teenagers. They had been too afraid to tell Gabe that they were seeing each other, worried about how he would react to his best friend dating his baby sister.

It turned out that they had been right to be concerned. Gabe had taken it hard and had overreacted. He could blame the alcohol he’d consumed, but it wasn’t just that. When he’d caught them, he’d been fighting his own issues, which had only fueled the violent pummeling he’d given Chase before ordering Honey onto the back of his bike. Looking back, Gabe had a feeling that even if he’d caught them kissing when he was stone-cold sober, he’d have probably flown off the handle anyway.

Only he might not have overcorrected on that curve and sent his bike careening off the road. He definitely wouldn’t have spent five years in prison, and his sister would have had a real future.

“Gabe?”

He realized that Honey had been repeating his name. “Sorry, I was just so caught up in your painting. You did good.”

Honey beamed at him. Her dark eyes and long lashes reminded him of when she was six, and she’d wanted a piece of his Halloween candy because she’d already demolished hers. He’d given in, unable to resist her puppy-dog eyes or the way she’d thrown her arms around him, squeezed him tight, and whispered, “You’re the best brother ever.”

If only that were still true. He’d been trying every day to make it up to her. He’d gotten out of prison and spent the last nine years fighting for her, doing everything he could to make her life better. This place was definitely better than the state hospital his mother had left her in.

He still wanted to rip his mother apart for putting Honey in that place, despite the fact that she’d been dead for almost seven years now. While he was awaiting trial, his mother had sued the hospital for missing a brain bleed on Honey’s scans. She’d been awarded millions—plenty of money to give Honey the best care—but instead, his compulsive gambler of a mother had locked Honey up in a place where he wouldn’t put his worst enemy. By the time he’d gotten out of prison, his mother had blown through nearly everything.

When his mother was shot outside of a gaming hall in one of the rougher areas of the city, Gabe couldn’t muster too much sadness for her. In the end, she’d been a selfish bitch. He could forgive her for a lot, but the way she’d turned her back on Honey had been enough for him. He’d claimed her body, used the money in her account to pay for cremation, and then sold everything she owned to pay for Honey’s care.

If that made him a hard son-of-a-bitch, then so be it. But he’d needed to be that way. To survive prison. To be able to protect Honey. Hell, just to deal with life and the uphill battle he was fighting, he had to learn to harden up.

“Do I get to see your place?”

Honey’s question jarred him, and he hesitated. If it were up to him, Honey would live with him, but Sharla and Honey’s former doctor had convinced him that Honey needed structure to avoid the confusion that might lead to violent outbursts. Too much stimuli and change could upset her, and after witnessing Honey’s episodes firsthand, he had agreed with them.

“Soon. Hey, I brought you something,” Gabe said, h

elping her sit down at the little table. Her face lit up when she saw the bag and drink cup.

She dove into the bag and pulled out the fries, shoving several into her mouth with a groan. “I love French fries.”

“I know,” he said, watching her take off the lid of her shake and dip her fries into the ice cream, just like when they were kids.

“So, tell us about your new apartment,” Sharla said, sitting down at the table.

“The other shake and fries are for you,” Gabe said as he sat down next to Honey.

---