Page 128 of False Start

“But she didn’t leave our grandfather’s light on. She always leaves it on.”

“Maybe she’s in the barn,” she said, pointing past me. “The light’s on up there.”

“I told her not to worry about cleaning up. Shit.” I hopped out of the truck and headed up the hill, Mayhem right behind me. Yes, I knew what I was doing. I was diving right back into someone or something that needed me. “You should be wearing your jacket.”

“Some moody asshole dragged me out of the bar without it.”

“You should be wearing mine then. Why didn’t you grab it?”

“Because I’m sticking with you while you’re in this mood. Someone has to remind you to be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

She snorted next to me, her bare arms swinging in the bitter cold. “Bullshit.”

She bolted ahead of me and crossed into the barn first and stopped dead in her tracks.

“So, I came up to turn off the light and surprise,” Lilith said, panting out the words from where she sat on a metal folding chair, clutching her stomach, beads of sweat gathered across her pale forehead. Just a few feet away, wet concrete.

I wasn’t here. This was my one job, and I wasn’t here.

“Okay, let’s get you to the hospital,” I said, reaching her elbow.

“Nope,” she said, stiffening up.

“Lilith—”

“Cain, he’s coming,” she said, her eyes turning frantic as they met mine. “Not only am I not going to make it to the hospital,” she said, gasping as she sucked in a harsh breath. “I’m not going to make it to the house.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, crouching in front of her.

“Do you think I want to have my son here?” she said, her teeth chattering.

“Okay,” I nodded, glancing over at Mayhem. “I need towels, blankets, and my bag from the back seat. Can you grab them? There’s a sled on the porch I use to haul gear, you can pile them on that.”

“Got it.”

“And on your way down, call 9-1-1.”

“I’m on it,” she said before turning back toward the house and heading down the hill, her phone pressed to her ear along the way.

“I’m going to turn on the heaters. Sit tight. Where’s your phone?”

“I left it in the house,” she said, putting her hand up the minute I opened my mouth to speak. “No lectures.”

“I swear, I should have put a Life Alert necklace on you.”

“Just think, after tonight you won’t have to worry about me anymore,” she tossed out with just enough sass to assure me we at least had a couple minutes.

“I’ll always worry about you.”

All four kerosene heaters fired right up. Luckily our practice ran short, so we hadn’t used up the bulk of the fuel yet. In about fifteen minutes, it’d be toasty warm in here.

“I can’t believe you’re going to have to do this,” she said, her voice breaking on a whimper.

“It’s okay, I’m trained.”

“There’s no training to prepare a brother to see their sister like this.”

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