Page 121 of The Sadist and the Brat

She found herself smiling for the first time since last night. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” he said. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“I will. Bye.”

She got up to freshen her coffee and snagged a banana from the bowl on the counter. She’d just sat back down when her brother Brian wandered in. As soon as he saw her, his gaze shot to the ceiling.

She would’ve rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t in the mood. “Grow up, Brian.”

“You grow up,” he shot back, and crossed to the coffeepot. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to Mom.”

“She went to early Mass.”

“I know that, jerk face.” She shook her head. He was trying to pour coffee into a cup and keep his eyes on the ceiling, and she could already see it was going to end badly. “You’re going to burn yourself.”

“Am not,” he said and cursed when hot coffee splashed over his hand and onto the counter.

She snickered into her coffee. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, shaking his hand. He glanced at her, apparently forgetting not to. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced at him, expecting him to be staring at the ceiling once again. But he was looking right at her, concern in place of the brotherly disdain he normally displayed. “I had a rough night, is all.”

He picked up his coffee. “Need me to beat him up?”

“Beat who up?”

“Whoever made you feel like shit.”

That made her smile. “I made myself feel like shit, but thanks.”

He studied her for a moment. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Bri.”

“No problem.” He lifted his coffee mug in a toast and ambled out.

“Aren’t you going to clean this up?” she called after him.

“You do it,” he yelled back. “I can’t look at you anymore without my head exploding.”

“Jerk,” she muttered, but she got up for a paper towel. She was just tossing it into the trash when the kitchen door opened.

“Sadie!” her mother exclaimed and hurried over to wrap her up in a hug. “I told your father that was your car out front when we left for Mass.”

“I told you,” Michael countered and leaned in to plant a smacking kiss on Sadie’s cheek. “How’s it going, kid?”

“It’s going,” Sadie said.

“Did you sleep here last night? What’s wrong?” Jennifer asked, easing back to look at her daughter. Then her eyes narrowed. “Ah.”

Michael wandered over to the refrigerator. “Ah, what?”

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