more smart-ass comments to come. It’s natural with me.”
“Well, smart-ass, I look forward to much more clever one-liners from you.”
In this little banter of ours, all is lost. She’s not a girl whose family was brutally murdered. I’m not the man searching for the person who did this. She isn’t simply a girl—she is the only girl, and this is all that matters.
Gail Montgomery is waiting for us in the driveway when I pull up to the street. She runs to Malia and envelops her in the Gail Montgomery embrace I’m all too familiar with. “Malia, my sweet girl. I’m so glad you’re back in Seattle.” She pulls away, a sincere smile reaching every feature on her face as she inspects Malia from top to bottom. “You’re so beautiful, my dear. Oh, sweetie, I don’t know what to even say to you.”
“Well, I’m hungry,” she begins. “This big lug decided not to feed me all day.” I love how she’s taking an uncomfortable situation and creating something to laugh about, even if it’s at my expense.
“Wells Shanahan, shame on you, my boy.” Gail extends her hand over Malia’s shoulder, and the brown eyes of her gaze meets my own as a purely evil smile takes over her sweet face. Yep, this girl will be more trouble than I care to admit.
Stephen brings me a beer. “I think you’ll need this.” I happily take it from him, but we stay planted, and I know this man. He has something to say, and he’s softening it with some alcohol first.
“You care for the girl.” It’s a statement, not a question, and I give him a slight bob of my head, but my neck is tight as hell with his insinuation. “This is more than a simple case.” Again, his words carry the weight of a statement.
“It’s just a case. She deserves closure,” I explain.
He pulls his beer back, but his gaze is on me. “Wells, son, how long have we known you?”
I think back to the days of our rookie year together—Matt’s and mine. “Fourteen years.”
“Yeah, well, in that time, I’ve come to know you pretty damn well, and I see something in your eyes. A gleam. I’m not judging. I’m not even telling you it’s wrong. I’m just here to caution you, as I would any of my sons, to be careful.”
His words aren’t harsh, and I stop to let them sink in. “Wait, it’s wrong. It’s very wrong,” I say.
“I’m the last one to judge you or to tell you something is wrong. She’s an adult, albeit a young adult but an adult. All I’m telling you is to be careful, son. And if you aren’t, Jules and Gail will tear you apart.”
I choke on a sip as I begin to laugh. “You’re not wrong about this, Stephen, not one bit.”
“Yeah, I know my wife and my daughter. I’m almost positive it’s why God gave me five boys and only one girl.” We clank our beer bottles together and start into the house. It’s when I feel it, the need to be in the same space as Malia. For some reason, when I see her, I can breathe easier. I both love and hate this emotion inside me because we can’t be together.
At the kitchen table, Gail has made Malia a sandwich already, and she’s chowing down while intently listening to Gail and smiling as though I haven’t seen her. For people like Malia and me who have missed the fundamental basics of a family, it’s not hard to read a bliss through her smile by the way Gail gently rubs her arm up and down or how Malia sits back in her chair, an ease in her body I’ve not seen in the hours we’ve been together today.
“For the record, Mrs. M,” I begin, entering the kitchen, “I volunteered to feed this girl several times, and she kept on declining.” I wink her way. Yeah, try to talk your way out of this one, little girl.
However, team girl is on the defense today. “Oh, Wells, you should know well enough that when a girl declines an offer of food, it doesn’t always mean no.”
Stephen clasps me on the back. “Yeah, I’d stop while I was ahead, son,” he says. Passing by me, he takes my empty beer bottle as he opens the fridge to get more. It’s apparent I’ll need it to get through a night with these feisty women.
Chapter 8
Malia
I hold my breath, wiggling the key into the