Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(99)

 

“I hurt mommy,” he says, his lips quivering.

 

“Shhh, don’t get upset over that. She’s going to be fine, I promise.”

 

“No, she’s not. She’s gonna die.”

 

I frown at him. “Boy, do you want me to come up on that bed and give you a knuckle sandwich?”

 

“No,” he says, his voice as pitiful as I’ve ever heard it. “I don’t like knuckle sandwiches.”

 

“Good. Because if you talk about my momma dying or any other stupid shit like that, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.” I nod so he knows I’m serious.

 

I stroke his finger. “Does it hurt a lot?” I cringe again looking at his bandages.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs out softly. “A lot, a lot, a lot. I’m melted.”

 

“Melted?” I want to laugh, but I’m afraid he’s serious.

 

“The fire melted me like a butter. I’m melted like a butter, just like you said.”

 

I shake my head, unable to speak. My lips tremble with the effort.

 

“Hey, buddy.” Mick’s voice comes from the doorway and saves me. He completely and totally saves me from losing my mind.

 

I look over with tears of gratitude streaming down my face. I can’t look at Jersey again until I clean myself up, so I move away from the bed and let Mick come over.

 

“Mickey Mouse. I see you, Mickey Mouse.”

 

I have my back to them, wiping away at the stupid tears that will not stop coming out of my head.

 

“I see you too. Good thing you don’t have that invisible stuff on today.”

 

“I burned the house down,” Jersey says. “I guess I’m an asshole.”

 

“Well, yeah. You might be an asshole for doing that. But it’s not a big deal. You can get a new house.”

 

I smile bitterly. My poor kid brother. He’s going to wear that asshole name tag for a lot of years over this one. He’ll never believe me telling him he’s not one. He’s not so disabled to be oblivious to reality. It’s going to take a lot of work to help him through this, and not just physically. I don’t even know what his physical injuries look like, but I’d be willing to bet they’ll be only half as bad as the mental ones. I sigh heavily as I consider what this means for our whole family.

 

A knock at the door brings a woman in a pantsuit carrying a briefcase.

 

“Mrs. Torres?” she says.

 

“Miss Torres, yes.” I immediately don’t like the looks of her.

 

“Hello.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Kelly Stratton from DCFS, Department of Children and Family Services.”

 

My blood runs cold as I take her hand and shake it reluctantly. “I think you’re in the wrong room.”

 

She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m in the right room. I’d like to talk to your brother’s next-of-kin about the incident.”

 

“The incident?”

 

Mick moves over to stand at my side, and I’m very glad for his presence. I’m afraid I’m about to bitch-slap a bitch.

 

“The incident where your developmentally disabled brother was left unsupervised and burned your house down.”

 

Mick puts his arm around my waist and pulls me into him squeezing me hard. “I think this is something that needs to be discussed outside this room and not with Jersey’s sister, but his father, don’t you?” asks Mick.

 

I’m shaking with anger. “Yes. Outside. Not in here.”

 

“Of course,” the woman says, all cool and calm like she’s not an asshole. “Happy to.” She leaves the room, clearly expecting us to follow.

 

“Mick, if I have to go out there and look at that woman for a single second, I am going to strangle her with my bare hands.”

 

He puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses me ever so gently on my lips. “I know. I’m going to go out there and send her away. You just stay here with the little asshole and make him as comfortable as you can.”

 

My mouth drops open and I part laugh and part cry. “Asshole?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, half his mouth quirking up in a smile. “Only assholes light fires, right?”

 

I nod, pressing my lips together as the tears fall.

 

He brushes them away with his thumbs before tilting my head down and kissing me on the forehead. “Go give him hell. I’ll be back in a few.”

 

I watch him walk out the door and then lift my eyes to the ceiling. Yo, God? Budda? Allah? Mother Nature? Buehler? Anyone? Buehler? If you’re up there, listening to a girl who never gives you the time of day, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for bringing Mick to me and for not letting my brother kill anyone. I owe you one.