Saxon's Savior (Protect and Serve #3) - Pandora Pine Page 0,53

thing I wanted to do was rehash my day, but I knew telling Dallas would help me feel better. “The lawyer I spoke with was the one who drafted Sistine’s will. In it, she gives me full custody of Sophie and Lola, and leaves her estate to them. Mr. Jones hasn’t amended that will since Sistine signed it a year ago, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any other wills out there.”

Dallas’s eyes widened. “You mean she could have another will somewhere giving custody of the girls to someone else?” He looked horrified by the mere thought.

“It’s not likely, but it’s possible. The lawyer set up an emergency court hearing to have me declared the girls’ guardian until the will has been through probate and we’re sure a more recent will doesn’t exist.”

“How do we do that?”

As shitty as I felt today, hearing Dallas use the word we warmed my aching heart. “I need to go through Sistine’s apartment.” I shook my head. “I have to do it anyway to clean it out…”

“We’ll all help.” Dallas gave my hand a squeeze.

“What do you mean?” There was no way the McCoys were going to spend a day helping me with Sistine’s apartment and personal items.

“Pick a day we’re off from the firehouse and we’ll all help. Me, Oz, Hen, Q, Kennedy, Gunnar, and Deacon. Mom and Dad too, unless they’re watching the girls.” Dallas looked ready to mobilize the troops this very second.

“I don’t know what we’ll find there…” I trailed off. I had a very good idea what we’d find. There would be drug paraphernalia, dirty dishes, overflowing trash, too-small clothes and shoes for the girls. It would be a huge mess, and only God knew where the hell my sister kept her important papers.

“Yes, you do. We both know.” Dallas wrapped his arm around me. “We lived in houses with drug addicts. We’ve been to overdose scenes. We know exactly what we’re walking into.”

Dallas was right. I leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body melt into mine. “It’s different when the scene belongs to someone you love.”

I watched as Dallas’s eyes grew distant. I knew he was thinking back to the awful day he’d come home to find his mother dead from an overdose. He gave his head a shake and took a sip of his tea. “The sooner we get through all the hard times the better.” Dallas pressed a kiss to my cheek. “What about the funeral?”

“The Essex County Medical Examiner has her body for an autopsy.” I couldn’t believe I was talking about my sister in terms like “body” and “autopsy.” Sistine was a dreamer. She was the glue that kept me and my brother close when we were kids. Speaking of my brother. “Sedona still hasn’t called me back. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s been two days. Is he usually this slow returning calls?” Concern colored Dallas’s voice.

“He is. Once he got his share of the insurance money, he took off and we rarely heard from him. He hates it when I call to keep in touch. I have a feeling Sistine asked him for money. She never said so, but her love for him turned to hate after Sedona left town.”

“I struggled a bit when Quentin left too.” Dallas frowned. “He went through something overseas none of us could comprehend. We thought he’d come home, and our love would heal him.”

“Were you mad because he left or because he wanted to keep flying?” I knew a bit about Quentin’s situation after our talk. I wouldn’t have known how to handle his war wounds or his reactions to them either.

“You got me there. My brother nearly died in one of those helicopters and there he was, not only wanting to fly again, but moving to fucking Colorado to do it.” Dallas’s entire body stiffened.

“I’ve never been to the Rocky Mountains before, but I have been to the White Mountains in New Hampshire. I felt free there, like nothing and no one could touch me. Standing at the summit of Mount Washington made me feel like I could accomplish anything. Maybe Quentin needed to feel that way too.”

Dallas nodded. “Yeah, that, plus the fact we were suffocating him with calls, unannounced visits. Casseroles.” Dallas snorted. “Christ, when Sistine’s obit hits the paper, the firehouse is going to be inundated with them.”

For some reason, I laughed along with Dallas. Death casseroles were not a laughing matter, but I felt better letting my emotions out