Page 97 of Mercy & Malice

Ivy mentioned she had plans with her little brother to vehicle shop, so I’m assuming that went longer than she planned.

Once I climb into the passenger seat of Troy’s truck, I feel even better about the decision since driving there alone is still unsettling. The drive seems longer than usual. I want to see my grandparents, but I don’t want to hang out with my mom. She hardly ever came over to their house when she was with my father and even after we moved in with Donald. It’s all changed since the kidnapping; now she’s arranging brunch with them weekly.

When Troy parks in the driveway, I don’t get out. “You can come in if you want some of Mawmaw’s cooking. Or I can bring you a plate.”

He holds up a can of Red Bull. “Brunch of champions.”

“Totally.” I laugh and make a mental note to bring him a plate of food anyway.

I climb out of the truck as he exits and leans against the hood. He waves to Mawmaw as she steps onto the porch. “Tell your friend he can come in.”

“I did. He’s just going to hang out while we eat.” I previously explained to her that Troy is around just in case. And she said it was a good idea.

“I’ll fix him some goodies to-go.”

I smile as she wraps me in a hug that I didn’t realize I needed so badly. “Missed you.”

“Me too, sweetie.” She pats me on the arm. “Let’s get inside before your pawpaw has a conniption fit.”

I go to ask her why as we step through the door but don’t when I see Mom seated at the table, Pawpaw beside her with his hard stare on Donald Montclair whose face lights up when he sees me. “There she is. Our guest of honor has arrived.” He stands and takes my hand, covering it with his other. “Our reunion has waited way too long.”

Mom clarifies, “He’s been away on business.”

Pulling away, I mindlessly drop into the seat beside Pawpaw.

“Yes, always a fire to put out somewhere,” Donald states as he glances at his phone. “Case in point, business never sleeps.” He signals for his right-hand man, Vincent, who enters the kitchen to receive whispered instructions before returning his ridiculously cheerful attention to us.

Pawpaw says, “So flammable that you can’t get through a meal without a lackey by your side and phone in your face.”

“Unfortunately, Bobby.” Donald tucks his phone in his pocket. “But I’m set for now.”

I say, “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yes.” He peeks at his gold watch before running his hand down Mom’s back. “Came straight here from the airport. I wanted to be here for when the good news is announced.”

Pawpaw’s expression looks like he’s about as thrilled as I am.

Mawmaw places a hand on Pawpaw’s forearm. “Well, we’re all here. What’s the good news?”

Mom stumbles over her words before she says, “Oh we can eat first and talk about it afterwards.”

Pawpaw bluntly states, “We’ll hear it just fine with empty stomachs.”

Mom gives me a nervous glance, but it’s Donald’s deep belly laugh, his shoulders shaking that hold my attention. “A man who gets straight to the point. I can respect that.”

The walls seem to close in as I watch the way he laughs, his movements, his demeanor, his build. The way he holds his posture. The position he places his hands in. “No,” I whisper as Donald looks to me. “What was that, sweetheart?”

It’s him. The Judge. I’ll never forget the way his shoulders and body shook when he laughed. The same way Donald’s does. My throat is dry and scratchy as I squeak out, “Oh, nothing.” I try to swallow, the dryness in my mouth all-consuming as I hold his stare. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Mawmaw says as I stand and walk to the bathroom in a daze, the blood thumping in my ears as I replay the images in my head. I’m not crazy. It was him.

Once I’m in the bathroom, I shut the door, lock it, then move to the far wall. My hands shake as I grab my phone from my back pocket and hit Micah’s contact. I only want him. He’ll know what to do.

I feel like I’m slowly suffocating, like the oxygen in the room is being extracted. There’s no way. Why would Donald do those things to his own son? The guy has always been off-kilter, but I can’t wrap my head around it actually being true. I’m hallucinating. That’s it. Maybe there really is a lack of oxygen to my brain. Perhaps I’m making up wild scenarios because I want so much for this to all be over.

Judge’s shoulders bounce in my mind, and he morphs into Donald sitting across from me at the table. It’s him.

“Brooke? Hello?” Micah’s voice breaks through my panic as I realize he’s answered.