The Protector (Barrett Boys #3) - Jordan Ford Page 0,19
down at me, and said, “I didn’t think so.”
I tripped him up when he tried to walk away, and we tussled some more until Grandpa Ray shouted, “That’s enough, you two! Get on up to the house. You need to be washed up and ready for bed in half an hour.”
Deeks shoved me down when we both tried to stand, then grinned at me as he ran out of the barn.
I gave him the finger behind his back, but that just scored me a sharp glare from Grandpa, and I had to do twenty push-ups for being rude.
The sun was setting as we ambled back up to the house. Grandpa draped his arm around my shoulders and didn’t have to say a word. I knew in my core that he loved me. In that moment, I felt like the world was the most beautiful place—safe and hopeful. I was home.
I wander into my bedroom, taking in my rumpled bed. Grandpa wouldn’t approve.
“Beds get made in the morning, boys. Start your day the right way.”
When did I drop that habit?
Even though I’ll be going to bed in a few hours, I quickly straighten my duvet, tucking in the sheet underneath and making the bed look neat.
Sitting on the edge of it with a heavy sigh, I let the quiet shroud me. It’s weird how only moments ago, the silence felt like comfort. Now it feels oppressive.
I miss the sound of my brothers laughing and hassling each other.
I miss the deep tremble of Grandpa’s voice as we held hands around the table and prayed before each meal.
I miss the little winks he’d give me, the way he’d laugh at all my stupid jokes and the pranks I used to pull. I was never afraid of that man, even when he told me off for taking things too far. If anything, disappointing him was the worst. I wanted him to think the world of me, because maybe deep down, I already knew he did and I just wanted him to be right.
“You wouldn’t be right now, Grandpa.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair and scratching the back of my neck. “You haven’t been right in a really long time.”
My voice trips over the last few words, emotion clogging my throat.
Rain pours through the back of my mind, a gunshot ringing out, the shock, the fear, the terror that ran through us all. And then came the decision.
“We’ve got to hide it. Hide it all.”
I close my eyes, second-guessing myself for the millionth time.
I thought we were doing the right thing, but were we?
Grandpa still died. We still got separated. Cooper ran. Michael and Deeks disappeared about a year later. Jake and I were shifted from one foster home to the next.
Did hiding the fact that Cooper shot Dad really make any difference?
Guilt clings like an itchy rash I can’t find a cure for.
And now I’m here.
A jobless, penniless loser who has the choice to lie to get a decent job.
Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.
Sure, the lying part’s not great, but I’d be doing something good, right?
I’d be protecting this chick.
Grandpa told me I was big for a reason.
To protect the little ones.
Grabbing my phone, I do a quick image search on the Shaw family and zoom in on a photo of Indigo Shaw with her father. She’s looking kind of sullen and unimpressed.
Yikes.
So, not a sunny personality, then.
But she is little.
Damn, she’s like really short. Unless her father is just really tall.
“Nah, she’s a shorty.” I grin, studying her face. She’s kind of pretty with her chestnut skin and waves of black hair. I like the way the big ringlets curl past her shoulders. Her eyes are kind of big, her glossy lips full and a little pouty.
I bet if she smiled, she’d have guys falling to their knees. Her frowny face is like a repellent. She’s still beautiful, but it just sends out these “don’t you come near me” kind of vibes.
I zoom in even more on the photo and study her brown eyes.
Is she showing the photographer everything?
I can’t help feeling like there’s more to this chick.
Am I reading too much into it?
Probably. I snicker and shake my head, shrinking the image again so I can study her father. He looks like a powerful man, his fingers curled around Indigo’s shoulder.
Daddy’s little girl.
No wonder he doesn’t want her going off to college on her own.