He slows and turns into the room. “I’ll get these vents open and you should have cool air soon.”
“Juror 6?”
He grimaces. “Only for a short time. Sean,” he says as he holds out his hand. Recognition sparks in his light brown eyes. “You were in the back of the courtroom today.”
All I can do is nod, not sure if this is a good or bad coincidence.
“Your uncle explained,” he says.
“Noelle Dubois.” I finally say. His grip is strong, but not crushing, and heat rushes up my arm. Is it possible to feel comfort from such a simple gesture? There is such warmth in his brown eyes that I immediately feel safe.
How’s that even possible? I don’t know him. I know nothing about him.
“Thank you,” I finally say.
He tilts his head and looks around me. I can feel my brother shift, but he doesn’t come out. Sean sinks down so that he’s balanced on the balls of his feet.
“Hey, Kaden, right?” he asks.
My brother leans around but stays firmly behind me.
“I’m Sean.” He holds out his hand. “A friend of Tinks and I help your grandparents when they need something fixed around the house.”
My brother trusts very few people. It took him days to warm up to the other bikers, and I have no idea how he’s going to react to Sean.
Slowly Kaden extends his arm and shakes Sean’s hand, then yanks it back.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Sean says before he stands back up and looks at me. “Will you be in the rooms on the upper floors or just this floor?”
“Just this one.”
“Then I won’t open the upper vents.” He smiles. “It shouldn’t take long and I’ll be out of here shortly.”
“Thanks,” I say again as he heads out of my room.
There is something about Sean that’s almost comforting. It’s not that he’s big, which right now I equate with safety, or that he’s cute with the soft beard and bald head. Maybe it’s his eyes…warm and comforting just like melted chocolate.
What the hell? My mind must be really slipping. This is not the time to notice a handsome guy or his nice eyes. My step-dad is about to stand trial for murder of my mother and it’s going to take everything I have to get my half-brother through this.
Maybe it’s because I’m tired of being alone and would give anything to have someone that is there for me, that I can curl up next to for a short time for comfort or regain some energy and strength. Selfish, I know, but I’ve been going for months, almost on empty, trying to take care of my brother. It’s not his fault and I love him and I’d never leave his care to anyone else, but sometimes, it would be nice to have someone for me. I’ve got Uncle Tink, Destiny and my grandparents, but it’s not the same. They are all dealing with the fallout of this. While we are there for each other, we are still dealing with everything personally, and we’ve also been so focused on the trial that we haven’t really been much help to each other.
I am tired. Exhausted! There is no place in my life now for guys, but maybe I should make room for some chocolate. Molten lava cake, or a chocolate soufflé. Yes, that is what I really need. A few hours in the kitchen cooking and then after dinner is done, I’ll bake. Nothing releases tension better than time in the kitchen and with any luck, maybe I’ll be able to finally sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept since my plane landed six months ago.
Kaden slips his hand into mine when I glance down at him.
“Is it going to be over tomorrow?”
I know he’s worried about testifying. Hell, not just worried, but scared to death. “If they get a jury, you’ll be the first to testify and then you won’t have to go back.” I pray they get a jury. Once Kaden testifies he’ll be able to stay at home with Grams and Gramps until the trial is over. However, I’ll be there every moment of every day to make sure Gary pays. That ass killed my mother and I won’t rest until he’s sentenced, and hopefully to life in prison.
“I wish it was over,” he whispers.
My heart constricts a bit. “Me too.” Though, it won’t be over for a long time. Even with my step-dad in prison, my brother is still going to need help. Help that I’m not sure I can give. If I could shield him I would. But, I can’t protect him from what he already saw.
“What if they don’t believe me and they let him go?” my brother asks.
“They will believe you, I promise.” An eight-year-old boy should not have to be afraid like this. He should be worrying about making a baseball team or something like that. Except, my brother doesn’t like sports, other than soccer, but Gary had him on every team he could as soon as Kaden was old enough. My step-dad just couldn’t accept that his son would rather play the piano and he made Kaden’s life hell.
I sink down to my knees so that I can look Kaden directly in the eye. He needs to know that he is safe and will stay that way. “Your father will go to jail. But, if for some reason he doesn’t, I am still your guardian and he can’t get you back.”
“He can still find me.”
“Not if I take you back to Paris with me.” Not that I’ll be returning to Paris, but I don’t tell Kaden that. My life in Paris ended when I got the call telling me that my mom had been murdered. I hopped the first plane home and found a mess bigger than I imagined. A mess I’ve inherited. A mess I can’t abandon to return to my other life. A mess my Uncle Tink and Mom shielded me from. I can’t talk to her about it, but as soon as this is over, Uncle Tink has a lot to answer for.
“How about we head down and see what I can make for dinner?” I stand up. “We’ll tackle our rooms once it’s cool up here.”
He just gives me a nod. Kaden says very little and it worries me. Before Mom was killed, he talked non-stop when we connected on Facetime or Skype. At least he did when Gary wasn’t home. When his dad was in the house, Kaden’s conversations were limited to a few syllables, as if he were afraid to say the wrong thing.
Grams glances at me and Kaden as we come down the stairs and frowns. “Where’s Caroline?”
Pain slices across Gramps features. “She’s dead, Doris,” he says.
I know that Gramps has explained to Grams several times over the last six months but her brain won’t accept that her daughter is gone.
Grams frowns, light eyes clouded in confusion. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Remember, we lost her,” I say without reminding her of the real horror of Mom’s death.
At that, Grams brightens. “Oh, well I’m sure we’ll find her soon.”
It’s the same conversation we’ve had since I came home. Grams even chastised Mom at the funeral for being asleep when so many people had come to see her. That’s the first time that I realized just how far Grams had slipped. Mom used to tell me she was just having memory problems and it was to be expected at that age.
She sugarcoated and made light of Gram’s condition, just like she hid a lot of things.
“There you go, Mr. Dempsey.” Zach hands over the remote to my grandfather. “Just don’t hit that button and all will be good.”
I don’t know what Zach is pointing to, but at least the television is working again.
Grams slaps the flat of her hand on the small table by the window. “Sit!” she practically barks and picks her cards back up.
I hadn’t met Zach until today, when we got here from the courthouse, but Grams seems to love him. “He has the prettiest dresses,” she told me.
I’ve stopped questioning many of the things she says since most of the time it doesn’t make sense.
“We’re going to fix dinner while Sean gets air up to the rooms.” I walk through the living room and then their bedroom, former dining room. Kaden curls up at the corner of the couch and pulls an afghan up around him and stares at the television. It’s not cold in here. Not even close, but my brother cocoons himself whenever possible, as if he can protect himself somehow.
This kitchen is so old and has hardly any counter space, mainly because of clutter everywhere, ju
st like the entire lower portion of the house, but Grams won’t let me straighten anything up.
Crossing to the opposite wall, I open the fridge to see what is available to cook, but it’s essentially empty. There is some fruit, cheese slices, milk, butter, orange juice, cream, eggs and bacon. All of it fitting on two shelves.
Inside the freezer is nothing but microwaveable meals. I’ll suffer through one tonight, if I have to, but I’m going to the grocery store the first chance I get. In the door of the freezer are three cartons of ice cream. Is this how my grandparents live and eat? If so, their daily diet is going to improve greatly now that I’m living here.
There is absolutely no meat in the freezer. Not even a pound of hamburger.
Had my grandparents gone vegetarian?
No, they have bacon, so why no other meat?
There has to be something to cook, but all the cupboards contain is cans of soup, tuna and spaghetti.
I close it and look around, mentally creating a shopping list. At least they have bread. I’ll just make up some breakfast. Tomorrow, I’ll make a real dinner.
Grabbing a skillet, I flip on the stove, but it doesn’t come on. It’s a gas stove, but there’s no pilot light and I quickly turn everything off and go to the doorway. “Gramps, what’s wrong with the stove?”
“Doesn’t work,” he answers.
“Why didn’t you get it fixed?”
“Nobody knows how.”
“Buy a new one.” How can anyone live with a broken stove?
“Too expensive.”
“I want to cook too.” Grams pushes herself out of her chair.
“It’s broken, remember,” Gramps says.
“Get it fixed,” she orders then sits back down.
Did Mom know how bad it was here, or did this all happen since she died?
Doing a slow turn I notice a microwave. Besides the toaster, it’s the only thing in here that can heat up food.
Returning to the freezer I open it and groan, then shut it again. I can’t eat one of those. Not today. Not ever.
Grabbing a discarded notebook, I lean against the counter and begin making a list. Not of groceries, but of all the things that need to be done around here. If I’m going to be living in this house, the stove needs to be fixed and if it can’t be, I’ll purchase a new one, along with an updated microwave. Hell, I’d love to renovate the entire kitchen but until I’m making more money, that isn’t going to happen.
Ha! Making more money. I’m not making any money. Kaden has taken up all of my time since I returned and I haven’t been able to leave him long enough to look for a job, let alone work at one, but I can’t continue to live on my meager savings since it’s almost gone.
2
So, that is the granddaughter from Paris.
I grin and shake my head as I head up to the attic to grab the ladder I stashed last time I was here.
Pretty. Real pretty with her blonde hair and light blue eyes and just the perfect height. At least for me. I’ve never gone for the short girls because they always seem so tiny and I was afraid I’d break them or something. She also has curves in all the perfect places, not that I should have noticed, but I am a healthy guy of twenty-three and the way her t-shirt and yoga pants fit the classic hour-glass figure is near perfection. Not skinny or boney, but flawlessly rounded, soft and woman.
Damn, my fingers even tingled when we shook hands. That’s never happened and now I have a very new appreciation for the old adage of the girl next door, even if mine is across the street and five houses down.
Noelle. Even her name is awesome.
However, now is not the time to be asking her out. I saw how scared Kaden was, and I’ve been there. She’s his older sister and worry marred her brow as she stood, ready to protect him. She’s got to focus on him and doesn’t need me being all friendly right now.
At least that is what I assume. Besides, I have time to get to know her later. She’s moving in so I don’t have to worry about her going anywhere anytime in the near future. And maybe, just maybe in time…who knows.
After opening the vents on the third floor, I check out the other rooms and go through general maintenance. Nobody has been up here since Mr. and Mrs. Dempsey moved to the main floor, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure that everything is still working. After turning the faucets in the bathrooms on and off and flushing the toilets, I flip all of the light switches and then lock the doors again before heading back downstairs.
“The rooms should be cool soon,” I say as I come back into the living room.
“Thanks, Sean,” Mr. Dempsey says. “Noelle will be happy to hear that.” He gestures to the kitchen with his thumb like he’s hitching. “She’s in the kitchen bitching about the stove.” He glances at his wife who is studying her cards. “Can you explain it?”
Zach looks up and his eyes meet mine. My stomach tightens. “Sure.” I head into the kitchen and find Noelle bent over the counter writing vigorously. Her back is straight, perfect ass in the air, and one foot crossed over the other.
“Your grandfather says you’re bitching about the stove.”
She straighten and looks at me. “Do you know what is wrong?” Her aggravation causes me to take a step back.
“Yep.” Do I tell her that I’m the one who broke it in the first place?
“Can you fix it?” Intense is the word to describe Noelle, but I hadn’t gotten any of that when I met her upstairs. Maybe she buries it when she’s around her brother. I get that she’d want to be all calm for him, but there is a totally different vibe flowing off her right now.
“Nope,” I answer. “Well, I can, but I won’t,” I add in a whisper so that Mrs. Dempsey doesn’t hear me or she’ll be in here and all over my ass to get it working again.
Noelle frowns.
She really has no idea as to the reason. “Why don’t we go out back and talk.”
Noelle eyes me suspiciously, blows out a sigh, which I interpret as frustration, and then nods.
The yards on this side of the street are a bit larger than the side we live on, and the Dempseys have a nice sitting area just outside the back door. Mrs. Dempsey once had a garden that was bursting with blooms from April to the first hard freeze. So many flowers that she’d send bouquets home with Zach after their Sunday gin games. She hasn’t tended it this year and its more weeds than flowers now, though some are struggling to survive and are peeking through the tall grass that has invaded the borders.
“Why won’t you fix the stove?” Noelle demands. Her arms crossed over her ample breasts.
“Are you always this demanding?” I counter.
Her eyes widen. Then she closes her eyes and rubs her forehead with the palm of her hands. “Sorry. I just really wanted to cook.”
All of this because she wanted to cook? “The gas is shut off to keep your grandmother from cooking,” I confess. Not that I did anything wrong and it was at the request of Mr. Dempsey.
“Why?”
“How much time have you spent with your grandparents since you got back?” I counter her question.
Her spine straightens as if offended.
Perhaps I was a bit critical, but I didn’t mean to be. I used to judge Russell since he wasn’t around to help take care of his parents. Now I know why, and it wasn’t because he was a loser son, so I shouldn’t judge Noelle’s ignorance about the stove when I know nothing about her life, other than what I learned today.
“Not as much as I’d like.” She sighs. “As soon as my plane landed I came here because this is where child services placed Kaden, but my brother wanted to leave immediately because his dad bonded out and knew where Kaden was.”
She sighs and sits in a chair. “We were here for the days around the funeral, but my dad and Uncle Tink were here too so Kaden felt safer, but he hasn’t wanted to come back. He didn’t want to be anywhere where Gary could find him so I’ve spent very little time with my grandparents.”
She’s protecting her brother, and I totall
y get that. The terror I suffered as a child is very present in Kaden’s eyes. I recognized it immediately when he looked up at me and held out his hand to shake mine. “Is he okay with moving back here?”
“Not really, but I have little choice. I can’t keep paying for a small apartment, and now that the trial has started, I don’t think even Gary is stupid enough to come around.”
“Are you worried about him being found not guilty?” That was my biggest fear.
She sighs again. “Kaden’s testimony should put him away, I hope, but I just want the trial over.”
She’s carrying a lot. Her mom was murdered and now she has a brother to care for and grandparents that need a caregiver. I’m not sure she even realizes how much care they need. Not that the Dempseys have asked, but they need help, which is why Zach visits, Dylan sends food and I take care of basic house maintenance. My other roommates, Alex, Ryan and Christian, don’t come over here much, only when one of us is not available, but someone tries to check on them at least a couple of times a week because they really had nobody else. At least we didn’t think they had anyone else. Maybe if one of us would have gone to the funeral we would have known, but it was right after the first of the year and Kelsey had just moved in and Dylan was searching for his sister. We didn’t even learn about the murder until a week after the funeral.
Noelle is already carrying a load and I’m the one who is about to tell her how much more is involved, and I hate it. Why couldn’t Tink give her a heads up? I hate to be the one who has to explain. I don’t know her, not at all, but I recognize the weariness, stress and worry in her blue eyes, and the need to comfort compels me to sit across the table from her. Reaching over I take her hand. “It will be okay.”
She doesn’t take her hand away but her head jerks toward me. “How can you be so sure?” Once again that intensity is back and I’d bet she’s secretly praying I give her a hopeful answer.
“Because I’ve been where Kaden is.”
“How?” she asks slowly, almost like she doesn’t want to.
Rattling Around: The Baxter Boys #5 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled) Page 2