Skye just referred to herself aswhatinstead ofwho. That was definitely more of Jesse’s bullshit.
“Do you want to tell us what the reasons were?” Liza asked softly, still rubbing her back. Skye looked at her. “Would it be easier if you told me and then I told him? Is this too much?”
Skye swallowed and looked at him again. “Brennan, I told your mom I was in foster care. I told her that my parents passed away.”
“I remember.” Brennan steeled himself. Here it was. She was about to tell him exactly what he already knew, and he gripped the arm of the chair.
“That wasn’t the whole truth. This won’t make sense if I don’t tell you the whole truth.”
He gestured for her to go on. “Then just tell me, honey. We’re here to help. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”
Skye stared hard at him for a solid ten seconds without blinking or looking away. His house had never been so deafeningly silent. It seemed darker than usual. While she hesitated, Brennan continued to brace himself while debating whether to open the curtains to distract himself from the anger simmering in his veins at the whole situation.
A full-body shudder shook through Skye’s tense frame, and she dropped her gaze. “I…Brennan, I…”
“Here, hon,” Liza cut in. She stood up from the couch, picking up Skye’s hands and gently tugging to guide her to stand up as well. “I’ve got an idea. Come here for a sec before you keep going. This will help you.”
Skye wordlessly followed directions, and Liza started leading her toward the kitchen. Liza was really good at this sort of thing—it was half the reason Brennan had wanted her to stay—so Brennan sat back and swallowed the last of his scotch.
“Riley,” Connor mumbled, his graveled voice piercing the heady silence.
“Yeah Sarge.”
Connor didn’t speak for a stretch of seconds, and Brennan glanced at him. He was now holding his drink at the level of his eyes, turning the glass slowly back and forth as though he was inspecting the amber color of the liquid.
“We shoulda called the fuckin’ cops, Riley,” Connor finally said. “Why the fuck didn’t we call the fucking cops? That mother fucker probably belongs in jail.”
Connor used the wordprobablybecause he had no idea about all the bruises Skye had when she first showed up, nor did he have any idea about a hundred other things Brennan had observed. Jessedefinitelybelonged in jail, and making Skye tell them everything would be a critical part of the strategy to put him there permanently. Or at least help her get an iron-clad restraining order.
Brennan pushed out of the chair to go refill his glass. “He definitely belongs in jail. I don’t care what I have to do.”
“Does Carson know about any of this? Bet he could help.” Connor was now following him at a distance toward the bar in the den.
Brennan filled his glass and then turned to top off Connor’s. “Not yet, but I am planning to talk to him after…y’know.” He nodded sideways toward where Liza and Skye were in the courtyard just beyond the windows. “After she spills the details. Once I know exactly what’s been going on with her, I’ll have a better idea of what to do. I’m sure Carson can sniff out any legal loopholes that we might need so that mother fucker can’t get off on a fucking technicality.”
“Yeah you right.” Connor lifted his glass and smacked it aggressively against Brennan’s, causing a thick crack to shoot down the side of the glass.
Brennan pursed his lips, eyeballing the crack and then looking at Connor while he held up the glass between them. “They’re Waterford, Sarge.”
“Oh.” Connor winced. “My bad, bruh.” He downed a large swallow from his own glass.
Brennan retrieved a new glass from the cabinet and dumped in the scotch from the cracked tumbler. He carried both into the kitchen and started to toss the broken one into the trash but stopped when he remembered the day of the brunch and Skye tossing the empty bottle onto the sidewalk, shattering it. It never occurred to him to wonder if cracked crystal could be repaired, but he was suddenly motivated to find out.
He carefully rinsed out and dried the cracked glass and set it in a corner of the kitchen counter, and then he paused to watch Liza and Skye through the windowpanes of the door to the courtyard.
Liza was standing in front of Skye, both women positioned right next to the stone center fountain. Her hands were on Skye’s shoulders while she said something, and curiosity got the better of Brennan.
As discreetly as possible, he turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack.
“I actually saw it on Grey’s Anatomy,” Liza was saying. “Do you watch that show?”
Skye shrugged listlessly. “I don’t watch any shows.”
Liza folded her lips between her teeth. “Okay, well this is my secret weapon that I learned from it. It’s a show about surgeons, and this one lady was trying to pump herself up before surgery, so she did this pose.”
Liza released Skye’s shoulders and stood next to her, parking her fists on her hips. She was dressed in a light pink, wrap-style maternity dress with a fitted skirt, and she set her stiletto-clad feet as far apart as her skirt appeared to allow, about shoulder width apart. And then, she lifted her chin with proud confidence. “Come on, do it with me, girly. Just like this.”
Skye narrowed her eyes in tepid confusion, but then mirrored the stance.
