Page 114 of Mad As Hell

“Cori,” I started slowly, “where’s your stuff?” When I’d been here a few weeks ago for her birthday, this room had been full of stuffed animals and everything pink that a princess could want. Now the walls were a pale gray, and there was a gray and lemon chevron striped duvet on her bed.

The only personal touch I spotted was a picture of Ryan and Corinne at the beach from a few years earlier, sitting on the glass nightstand by her bed.

She wandered to the bed and jumped on the edge, swinging her legs. “Daddy said I’m an adult now. I have to act like it. And big girls don’t have toys.”

Motherfucking Beckett Cain. If Ryan didn’t kill him, I would.

Corinne was eleven. She should absolutely still have toys and stuffed animals and whatever the hell else normal little girls had in their bedrooms.

“What did it mean?” she asked suddenly, lifting her heart-shaped face with those Cain blue eyes that reminded me so much of her brother.

I frowned and walked over to her. “What did what mean, honey?”

“Whore?” The dirty word in her innocent mouth was just fucking wrong.

I grimaced and crouched in front of her. “It’s a mean word.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Daddy says it a lot. Sometimes on the phone. Sometimes when he’s mad, and sometimes when he has women over to visit and his voice gets all weird, like when I get sick.”

I didn’t want to think of the pussy parade Beckett probably strolled through this house, and I hated that Cori had to live here.

“It’s not a nice word,” I said carefully. “We shouldn’t say it.”

Her eyes rounded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” I assured her, pushing to my feet. “Have you been practicing your cartwheels?”

Her face brightened. “Yes! I’m getting better!”

I glanced at the window and saw rain starting to splatter the glass. Next time I came over I hoped we could go outside to practice.

“Want to know a secret?” Corinne whispered.

My gaze shot to her, my lips turning up. “Sure.”

“I hid Majesty,” she confided, her eyes huge.

It took me a second to remember the white and black dog with strands of sparkly pink tinsel in its synthetic fur. It had been a birthday present, and she’d adored it.

I looked around. “Where?”

Her soft voice lowered. “In Ryan’s room.”

My brows shot up.

“Daddy never goes there,” she said quickly. “And I didn’t think Ryan would mind. She’s in his closet, in his old football bag.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, and she jumped. Panic filled her eyes as she looked at the window.

“It’s just a storm,” I promised.

Her lower lips trembled. “I hate it. I want my puppy.” Her gaze shot to the door. “But Daddy might be out there. If he sees her, he’ll get big mad.”

My lips twitched. Hearing her say that would’ve been adorable if not for the obvious fear. “Big mad, huh?”

She nodded.

“What if I go get Majesty?” I whispered. “Ryan’s room is at the end of the hall, right?” There was no way Beckett and Ryan were done shouting at each other yet, so I’d likely be able to slip in and out.

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