Chapter 48
Someone knocked on her door.
Sitting on her bed, her back against the wall, Bella’s head in her lap, Verity paused the Maggie Rogers’ song on her phone. “Come in,” she said, taking out her earbuds.
“Hey,” Miles said, stepping into her room, still wearing his uniform even though he was working nights this week.
Maybe he slept in the thing.
Bella jumped down to greet him.
“Hey.” She sat up. Braced herself for one of his I know best and you know nothing lectures.
Not that she didn’t deserve a lecture, but really, hadn’t she suffered enough for one day?
Crouching to give Bella some love, he glanced over at Verity. “Pizza’s here.”
“Okay,” she drew out slowly. Usually, he jumped right in with the stop doing this and no more doing that talk. Suspicious. “Thanks.” And then, just to test him, she added a conversation ending, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
He nodded. Gave Bella’s head another stroke, then stood and took in her room much the way he had this morning, his gaze skimming over the totes and boxes, the first aid kit still on the side table. The bloody shirt still in her trash can.
The pillow she’d tossed into the corner because Reed had used it last night and she couldn’t trust herself not to press her face against it and breathe in his lingering scent.
Her brother missed nothing.
Well, she wasn’t fooled by his stoic cop routine. Last night’s transgression was the worst she’d ever committed, which meant the sermon she was about to get was undoubtedly going to be the longest, most righteous one ever.
That was okay. She could handle it.
If this morning had taught her anything, it was that she could get through awful, horrible moments.
And come out stronger on the other side.
Breath held, she waited. Here it came. Any minute now.
Instead, he nodded again, then turned to go.
She scrambled to the edge of the bed so quickly, her phone slid off her lap to the floor. She swiped it up. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”
He stilled. And when he faced her, she could have sworn she saw hurt in his eyes, which only added to the guilt she’d felt all freaking day.
But when he spoke, his tone was mild and not the least bit offended. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Do you want me to yell at you?” he asked with a confused frown.
Setting her phone on the table, she rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”
Another nod, the man was like a bobblehead tonight. “Okay then.”
“Is this all part of you letting me make my own mistakes so I can learn from them?” she asked when he started to turn again. “Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got the making mistakes part down, but not the learning from them thing. One of you might want to step in here and take control of this situation before I end up in prison. Or worse. A politician.”
His lips twitched as if she was just sooo funny.
“Can’t have that,” he said, crossing the room. He inclined his head at the spot next to her with a questioning look. She shrugged and he sat down. Bella came over and set her head on his thigh. “I was your age when mom and dad died.”
She stared at him, her heart in her throat. And not just because this was not the topic of conversation she thought they’d have.
But because Miles never talked about that time in their lives.
Yeah, he, along with the rest of her brothers—Urban and Toby especially—told her stories about their parents. How their dad loved eighties hair bands and peanut butter and dill pickle sandwiches which… yuck. That their mom was an excellent gardener and made the best homemade apple pie in town. Little things to help Verity feel connected to the people she’d come from.
The people she barely remembered.
But Miles never talked about their deaths or what happened during those first few months after the accident.
“And until recently,” he continued, “I didn’t remember what it was like when I was that age. What I was like.”
Turning toward him, she bent the leg nearest him underneath her. “What were you like? No, don’t tell me. I can picture it clearly. You had perfect attendance. Narced on kids passing notes, and in your free periods, you were a volunteer hallway monitor, handing out tardy slips with gleeful abandon.”
He scratched the side of his head. “The way your brain works scares the shit out of me sometimes. You know that, right?”
She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
One none of her brothers seemed to appreciate.
Except Toby. Nothing bothered that man.
“Actually, I was a lot like you.”
With a snort, she ducked her head. Picked at a thread hanging from the frayed bottom of her shorts. “Messed up and stupid and scared of everything?”
“Pretty much.”
She glanced at him from under her lashes to see if he was teasing her, but he looked perfectly serious. “Nuh uh.”
He shrugged, as if it was no big deal to find out that one of her brothers, this one especially, was fallible and human. Or at least, had been at one time.
“I messed up plenty and got into trouble plenty and no,” he said, when she opened her mouth, “I’m not going to tell you about those times. But it seemed I was scared about everything. About going to Pitt, even though it’s basically down the road. Afraid of a new routine. Of not knowing anyone and not making any friends. Afraid I was going to miss Mom and Dad and you all.” He glanced at her. “Afraid to grow up.”
She dropped her gaze. Oof. That one went straight to her chest.
“Then Mom and Dad died and missing them wasn’t just a worry, wasn’t something I had to get through until I could see them again during break, but a way of life. Up until then it seemed as if growing up was a choice. And then it wasn’t. It happened whether I wanted it to or not. Whether I liked it or not.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” she grumbled, scooting around to dangle both legs over the side of the mattress again. “All I’m saying is that we aren’t in medieval times. There’s no hurry for me to grow up. My brain won’t even be fully developed for another eight years! Which is obvious by the way I keep screwing up. I don’t think I’m mature enough to go away to school. What if I mess up while I’m at OSU?”
And yes, she was hoping Miles would agree with her. That he’d offer to talk to Urban for her, to tell him that she needed to stick close to home for at least another year.
A girl could dream, right?
“Oh, you’ll mess up . And when you do, you’ll figure out a way to fix it. And if you need us, we’ll be there. One thing about this family, you never have to face the tough times alone.”
With a sigh she settled her head against his shoulder. “I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.”
Chuckling, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You and me both.”
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you,” she said softly. “To lose Mom and Dad at that age.”
She didn’t know how she’d get through if something happened to one of her brothers or Ian or Kat or Willow.
“Sometimes I’m glad I don’t remember them,” she whispered, her stomach turning with shame. “That I don’t remember how sad I was when they died. That I don’t feel their loss the way you all do. Is that bad?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing about you could ever be bad. Especially not your feelings.”
Shaking her head, she sat up straight. “I don’t know about that. My feelings haven’t exactly been steering me in the best direction lately.”
She’d trusted Reed. Had wanted to help him.
And she’d ended up disappointing her brothers, then spending two hours at the police station answering questions about everything that had happened with him last night.
She flashed back to waking up on top of him. How he’d felt beneath her, so solid and warm and safe. How he’d touched her, like she was delicate and fragile. Like he wanted to soak her in through his fingertips.
How he’d almost kissed her.
Okay, so she hadn’t told Officer O’Neil everything.
Sometimes you had to stick to just the facts.
A piercing whistle sounded, and Bella leapt to her feet and shot out of the room like a rocket.
Urban and his party trick of whistling through his fingers to get Verity’s attention from downstairs.
Just text her. God.
But she got to her feet, same as Miles.
She didn’t usually like to respond to the whistle, but she was hungry.
And she’d been enough of a problem teen for her brothers today.
“Is Titus going to be okay at the animal shelter?” she asked, as she and Miles headed toward the door.
“He’s not there anymore.”
“They let someone else adopt him? That can’t be legal.”
“One of Walsh’s coworkers at the bar picked him up. He’s fine.”
Wait. That meant his coworker liked Reed. That they might actually be friends.
Weird.
And more than a little disconcerting. Especially how much it bothered Verity, him having friends she knew nothing about.
“Oh. Well, that’s good. I mean for Titus. I’d hate to think he was stuck at the shelter, scared, and feeling abandoned.”
Miles just looked at her, all bland and not buying one word of it. “Uh huh.”
She shifted. Then sent her brother a beseeching look. “Please don’t make me ask.”
Miles tipped his head back, a man searching for patience. Then he sighed, because she brought him nothing but woes and troubles. “Walsh was arraigned this afternoon. Last I heard, his boss at The Cockeyed Chameleon posted his bail.”
Which meant Reed wasn’t sitting in the county jail.
That was something at least.
But she didn’t know where he was. Or with who.
Didn’t know what was going to happen to him.
And it didn’t matter how many times she told herself that was for the best, she didn’t quite believe it.
“I’m so dumb. Believing something simply because I wanted to. Because I didn’t want to believe the alternative.” She chewed her lower lip. “I still don’t want to believe it.”
Didn’t want to believe Reed had lied to her. That he’d used her.
That he’d done what he was accused of.
“He’s innocent until proven guilty,” Miles said. “Remember that.”
“Right. And that’s your job. To prove he’s guilty.”
“Not mine. Officer O’Neil’s working the case, along with Cooper. And you’re not dumb. You’re the smartest person I know. You having a big heart and helping someone who’d been hurt doesn’t make you a bad person, and it sure as hell doesn’t make you stupid. But Walsh… he isn’t like you. He hasn’t had the privileges you’ve had, doesn’t have the opportunities. And sometimes, no matter how badly we want to help someone, no matter how much we care about them, there’s nothing we can do.”
She thought of Reed not wanting to leave Titus alone with his father. Of the bruises he’d often had as a child.
How he’d been afraid to go home last night.
Of how he worked two jobs and drove a beat-up truck. Of the chip on his shoulder and the bad attitude he used to keep everyone at arm’s length.
To keep her at arm’s length.
“Do you think he’s guilty?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
Classic cop answer.
“It matters to me,” she told him quietly. Honestly.
“I think he’s in a shitload of trouble. That you and he are at two completely different points in your life, heading in two completely different directions, no matter what happens with his case. But, again, it doesn’t matter what I think. All that matters when it comes to you and Walsh,” he continued, softer, gentler, “is what you think.”
He gave her another kiss on top of her head, then walked away.
She knew exactly what she thought when it came to her and Reed. What she’d known from the moment he opened the door, shirtless and grumpy and rude at the beginning of summer.
He was way more than she could handle. She didn’t have the skills, the knowledge, or the experience to deal with the way he made her feel. The messy, confusing emotions. The blooming desire.
She’d spent her entire summer pining after a boy who’d given her little in return.
But that ended here and now. She’d told Reed this morning she couldn’t keep letting him tug her close only to push her away.
It was time she took responsibility for her own actions. For the choices she made. For how she let him treat her.
It was time for summer to end.