After the Game(39)

Bryony ran to the door, her face all lit up with excitement. She wasn’t used to company either, and this was going to be the highlight of her morning. Other than the fact that Brady had been sleeping on the sofa when she woke up.

I didn’t actually know the pretty brunette at my door, but I knew of her. She was Brady’s cousin. The girl who came to Lawton not talking and was now the reason West Ashby wasn’t a complete dickhead.

“Hello,” I said, knowing already why she was here. Brady’s return home hadn’t gone well this morning. It was after eight and she should be at school.

“Hi, Riley?” she said, making sure she had the right person.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I’m sorry for coming over like this, but I’m Maggie, Brady’s cousin. And I know he slept here last night. That’s not my business, but the scene I witnessed this morning has me concerned for him.”

I stepped back and waved a hand for her to come inside. Bryony was by my side, peeking up at her from around my leg.

“Come on in,” I told her.

She walked in and smiled down at Bryony.

“I wike your haywah,” Bryony said shyly.

“Thank you. I like yours too. I always wanted blond curls. You have beautiful ones.”

Bryony beamed at her. She loved her blond curls too. She often sat in front of the mirror just to brush them.

“My mother said she called the house and let Mrs. Higgens know Brady was here last night.”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, but he’s never done that before, and he smelled like beer. Which I’m fairly certain he’s smelled like before.” She paused and handed me what looked like a cake she was holding. “Aunt Coralee sent this. She said she’d been meaning to bring one over herself.”

I took the cake from her. I couldn’t tell her anything. This was Brady’s to tell. Not mine. “Tell her thank you for me,” I replied.

“I’m not here to ask you to tell me what’s going on. I just need to know if he’s okay,” Maggie said.

I could answer that. “No, he’s not.”

Maggie frowned. “I was afraid of that. Things weren’t good between him and Uncle Boone. But I’ve never seen them that way. I just don’t know how to help.”

She couldn’t. No one could.

“Trust me when I tell you that you can’t help him. He’s got to do this alone. If he needs to open up, he will; otherwise just let him be.”

She nodded. “Okay. I get that. Better than most, I guess. But I did need someone. West became my someone. I think everyone needs someone.” She paused and looked directly at me. “I hope you’re his.”

I did too. “If I am, I won’t let him down.”

She smiled and looked back at the door. “I’m late for school. I guess I need to leave before my uncle is upset with me, too. Thanks for talking. It was nice to finally meet you,” she said, then turned her attention to Bryony. “It was nice to meet you, too.”

Bryony smiled brightly up at her. Then ducked behind my legs.

We said good-byes, and I closed the door behind Maggie. She was sweet, beautiful, and she obviously got the “not to be intrusive” thing. Brady was lucky to have her in his home with him. It would help when he was ready to open up.

“Can you go to Miller’s and get me a pound of sugar? I think I’m gonna make some of my cherry cobbler for Lyla,” Grandmamma said, smiling down at Bryony. Today Bryony was going to be my mother as a child again. We didn’t have these days every day, but today Grandmamma had called her Lyla three times already. Bryony always seemed confused but had stopped arguing with her about her name.

“Sure,” I told her. “Why don’t we go see if your talk shows are on yet. I think it’s time for Dr. Phil,” I told her.

“I need to feed Thomas first,” she argued.

“Let Bryo . . .” I paused and corrected myself. “Let Lyla do that. You know she loves to.”

Grandmamma thought about it a minute, then nodded. “That’s a good idea. She needs responsibility. Never hurt anyone.”

I winked at Bryony when we had to play pretend with Grandmamma. She blinked hard with both eyes because she couldn’t wink yet. Grinning, I turned on the television for Grandmamma and Bryony headed to the kitchen to pretend to feed a cat that didn’t exist.

“I want Wywa appasauce,” she said quietly when we got to the kitchen. On the days she was confused for Lyla, Grandmamma always gave her applesauce. It had been my mother’s favorite snack as a baby. Bryony had figured this out.

“Okay,” I replied, setting the cake down, then lifted her up into her high chair.