Page 24 of Wicked Games
Marlowe smiles weakly, her hand resting on her still-swollen belly. “I know, Ollie. But I just can’t help but feel restless. You know how I am. I was like this after the twins were born.”
I wrap my arm around Marlowe, offering her comfort and stability. “We understand, baby girl. But we need ta prioritize you healing. Can’t havemore babies if you not healed up and nourished. Let’s get back to bed and rest for a while. We can all rest.”
Marlowe sighs, reluctantly agreeing. “Alright, Wild. I’ll go back to bed. But can we at least check on Lisette first? I miss her already.”
Ollie and I exchange a glance, silently communicating our shared love for our daughter. Lisette, our little angel, brings so much joy to our lives. We nod in unison, and I guide Marlowe back upstairs towards Lisette’s room, Ollie following closely behind.
As we enter Lisette’s room, the sight of her peacefully sleeping brings a smile to our faces. She looks so innocent, so pure. Marlowe gently strokes her hair, whispering words of love and adoration. Ollie and I stand by her side, our hearts filled with warmth and gratitude.
Ollie whispers to Marlowe, his voice filled with emotion, “We are truly blessed.”
Marlowe nods, tears glistening in her eyes. “I never thought I could be this happy, this fulfilled. You both complete me, and our children bring us so much joy.”
“I love you both,” Marlowe says, her voice filled with sincerity.
Ollie and I exchange a glance, our love and gratitude mirrored in our eyes. We hold Marlowe close, cherishing this moment of pure happiness and contentment. Together, we know that we have created a beautiful family, built on love, trust, and unwavering commitment.
“We love you too, baby girl. Ain’t nothin’ gon change dat.” I whisper in her ear, feelin’ the smile pull at her cheeks.
Everyone sits around the dining room table as we get lunch served. Marlowe holds Lisette in her arms as Ollie buckles the boys into their high chairs. I serve up the bowls of stew for us adults and plate up some food for the boys. We learned real quick to not give the boys bowls of food as it ends up everywhere. These two are menaces!
Jus like dere Papas.
A loud rap against the front door pulls our attention from our lunch and family time. Ollie stares at me as we both rise from our chairs. His hand instinctively reaches for his knife, while my hand swiftly searches my pocket for my own weapon. We make our way over to the door; the floor creaking beneath our feet. Ollie's hand closes around the knob and before he pulls, we look back at Marlowe; the color drained from her face.
Ollie turns the knob. The screen door hides the person on the other side.
“Broussard residence?” The man asks.
“It is. There a problem, sir?” I reply, leaning in to get a good look at who it is on the other side. Peter Guidry, the dickweed wannabe football star from our high school days, looks back at me. Now he’s the sheriff. Dis parish really has gone ta shit.
“Oliver and Wilder Broussard? You bayou boys still livin’ at home with Mama?” He snorts, slapping his hand to his knee.
This motherfucker. He knows damn well our parents died years ago.
Anger and resentment course through my veins as I size up good ol’ Petey. How dare he come to our home and mock us about our parents’ death? Ollie’s grip tightens around his knife, his knuckles turning white. Marlowe senses tension and quickly joins us by the door.
Before any of us can respond, Marlowe steps forward, her authoritative presence diffusing the tension. “Sheriff, I suggest you watch what you say on our property and show some respect. Thesemenhave been through enough.”
The sheriff scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That so, and who might you be, chére? Ain’t no woman ever give these two the time of day.” He starts checking her out through the screen door. Even having just given birth, our girl is the sexiest thing this side of the bayou.
Ollie and I stiffen. We’ve never gone over what to do if someone came asking questions. I look at Ollie and then back at our boys in their high chairs. Lisette stirs in her bassinet next to the table. I’m on edge and Ollie can sense it. He gives me a look, tellin’ me to calm down.
Ollie pulls her to his side, cutting her off before she can say anything.
“She’s taken,” Ollie growls possessively.
Peter’s smug expression falters for a moment, realizing that his attempt to belittle us and hit on our woman has backfired. He mutters a half-hearted response and clears his throat. “I came to give a warnin’ to the area’s residents. We’ve got ourselves a killer on the loose. Broke outta the prison, and we been findin’ bodies all over the parish.” He turns to walk back down the porch steps, stopping at the foot.
“Y’all do best to make sure the house is nice an secure. Wouldna want anything to happen to that pretty girl y’all got.” Lisette starts to cry in the background. Peter’s eyes narrow. “Or them children you got in dere. Have a good afternoon, now.”
As the door closes, we release a collective sigh of relief. Marlowe wraps her arms around us, offering comfort and support. She pulls back.
“This isn’t you two, right?” Her gaze fixed on our eyes.
“No, chére. Dis ain’t us. We ain’t never been ta prison.” Ollie chuckles.
“I might add dat we also leave nothin’ behind,” I say, slippin’ my arms around her waist.
Ollie rushes over to Lisette, lifting her and cradling her to his chest. “Imma change ‘er, den I t’ink it might be time for a feedin’.”
“Wait,” Marlowe says. Ollie spins around to look at her. She takes a step back so she can rest against the door. “What does this mean now?” Her voice quakes with a hint of fear.
Ollie and I chuckle. “Baby girl, dis means dat if anyone tries to step foot in dis house dat ain’t welcome, dey gon meet two much better killers den dey is. You an’ our babies are what’s important. We killed for ya once, we ain’t ‘fraid ta do it ‘gain. We play dirty, wicked games, chére, and dis is only the beginning.”
