Pretty Little Things

“Your shirt,” she whispered as it fell from her fingertips, pooling at her feet, and her eyes locked on mine.

“Leave,” I barked. My words jarred her, and she ran from my room.

I took my time drying off and getting dressed, not wanting to look A

I stumbled down the stairs in a black T-shirt and jeans, greeted by Amanda at the base of the steps. We’d been seeing each other for a few weeks. I kissed her cheeks as my eyes searched out A

“I’d watch for pieces of glass in your eggs. Grace isn’t very happy with you,” A

“I told your sister I’d help her cover up that bruise after we ate. She really shouldn’t be allowed to walk in heels.” Amanda stood on her toes to kiss my cheek as I glanced behind me at A

“Just don’t paint her up. She doesn’t need all that shit on her face.” I tried to keep the harshness from my tone, but when it came to A

Amanda smacked my chest playfully, but she always wore more makeup than I liked. Most of it stemmed from her being self-conscious. Not that it mattered. She suited my needs.

I walked around Amanda and sat down at the large, ornately carved dining room table that looked like something right out of a castle. Co

Grace set my plate down with more force than necessary as she narrowed her eyes, accentuating the crow’s-feet in her olive skin.

“Grace,” I called after her as she retreated into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It slipped.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all she said as she disappeared. At nearly sixty years old, she had no patience for my bullshit. Her snow-colored hair was pi

The woman must have aged twenty years from putting up with our bullshit. Co

Amanda sat down beside me, her denim skirt riding up her thighs as she stole a piece of my toast and took a bite. Her hair was even blonder than the last time I’d seen her, and I wondered how many more trips to the salon before it was whiter than Grace’s. “I love that shirt,” Amanda said to A

I folded my hands in front of me and looked to A

“Dear Lord, thank you for this wonderful food and shelter you have provided us. We ask you, Lord, to help A

“Asshole,” A

I could hear Co

He cleared his throat as Grace brought in a mug of coffee and set it down in front of him. “Thank you, dear.” He picked it up and took a sip before his eyes landed on mine. “Someone needs to pay for all of this stuff. I have cases that are piling up.” But I knew he had become obsessive with his work when his wife had passed away nearly twenty years ago. He had confessed to me one night, not long after we arrived, that helping others helped ebb the guilt from not being able to do more for her as cancer slowly destroyed their lives.

“It wouldn’t kill you to take a few days off, Co

“I’ll be in Jackson for A

“I’m sure Grace will keep everyone in line. No one can put the fear of God into someone like she can,” I joked.

“Except for you.” Co

“I don’t get paid nearly enough for that task,” Grace teased as she sat in one of the empty chairs with a bowl of oatmeal for herself and a freshly sliced peach on a saucer. “I’ll be going with him to make sure he’s getting plenty of rest and taking his medicine. I better not come back to a mess, ya hear?” She took care of Co

“We’ll keep the party low-key. Just a few friends.” I laughed as I shook my head, knowing it would be out of control. Everyone at A

“What party? I don’t want a party. I’m not leaving this house until my bruise goes away. I look hideous.” A

“Oh, honey. You have to have a party. The town will be talking about it the rest of the year. The Blakelys are royalty.” Amanda was gri

“The party is happening, and you don’t need to worry about leaving the house because we’re having it here.” I raised my eyebrow at A

“What happened to your face?” A

“I slipped going up the stairs.”

“You are as graceful as a newborn fawn,” he joked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes as his gaze fell to me questioningly. It was a fair judgment on his part. He cared for us equally, but I could take care of myself.