aisling grimlock 03 - grim discovery (25 page)

“She’s not crying because the gargoyles attacked,” Griffin hissed, glaring at my brothers in case they dared say one word to make things worse. “She’s had a bitch of a two weeks. You people attacked her and then essentially kicked her out of her own family. That’s on top of those … creepy things that keep showing up. She’s exhausted. I’m exhausted. Quite frankly, I can’t deal with any of you and the nonstop crap you’re bound to spout right now. All I care about is taking care of her. Do what you want about the gargoyles. We’re going to bed.”

I WOKE
in my childhood bed, my muddled mind taking a moment to focus. Griffin lightly snored next to me, his body pressed tightly against mine. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, grimacing at the digital readout. It was after midnight.

I carefully climbed out of the bed, blindly searching through my old dresser until I found a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt to slip into. After cleaning and bandaging my arm and face, Griffin was too exhausted to worry about pajamas. It wasn’t even eight yet when we crawled under the covers. We were both so emotionally drained that we passed out within minutes.

Now something else was calling to me.

“Where are you going, baby?” Griffin’s voice was thick with sleep.

“I’m really thirsty,” I said. “I’m going to sneak down to the kitchen to get a bottle of Gatorade. Do you want something?”

“Just you,” Griffin murmured, tugging the covers higher. “Don’t be gone long.”

The house was quiet as I padded through it. Too quiet. I couldn’t remember it ever being this quiet. There was always some noise – even if it was only the sound of the newspaper rustling in my father’s office as he read long after we were supposed to be asleep.

I stopped at one of the front windows long enough to peer outside. Nothing moved, but for some reason I was sure multiple sets of enemy eyes were fixed on the house. By the time I hit the kitchen, I was hungry and thirsty. I hadn’t eaten since my disastrous lunch with Griffin. I rummaged through the refrigerator, debating between stealing a jar of pickles or a box of dry cereal to munch on back in my bedroom when the overhead light flickered on.

I jumped, swiveling quickly. Dad stood in the archway watching me, his face unreadable.

“I was just looking for something to drink,” I offered lamely. “I’ll go back to my room.”

Dad scowled and stalked toward me. I was fairly certain this would be the time when he really did follow through with his threat to kill me. “Sit down, Aisling.”

“I … .”

“Don’t argue with me,” Dad ordered, grabbing the jar of pickles from my hand and shoving it back into the refrigerator.

Perhaps he didn’t need to kill me. Maybe he was inclined to starve me to death instead.

“Why do I always have to repeat myself ten times to you before you listen?” Dad asked. “Sit down on that stool!” He gestured so there would be no mistaking his intent.

My sore body protested as I followed his instructions and Dad’s keen eyes washed over me as I groaned. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m not sure you know what that word really means,” Dad said, turning so he could dig through the containers in the refrigerator. He carried a tower of them to the counter and then pulled two plates from the overhead cupboards. “Are you hungry?”

“I just came for the Gatorade,” I lied. My stomach picked that moment to rumble, and because the kitchen was so quiet Dad couldn’t mistake the sound for anything but what it was.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dad said, prying the lid off the first container. He started dishing slices of roast beef onto the plates. “When was the last time you ate?”

“We had Mexican for lunch today … or I guess it was yesterday now,” I replied. “I’m really fine.”

“Shut up,” Dad muttered. He grabbed another container and peeled the top back. It was full of cooked carrots. I thought about reminding him that I hated cooked carrots, but now didn’t seem the appropriate time. “You don’t like cooked carrots,” Dad said, mostly talking to himself. “You like the roasted Brussels sprouts better.”

I was amazed he remembered, especially given the circumstances. “What happened to Barbara?” I asked, the need to fill the uncomfortable silence overwhelming. “Does she think we’re all crazy?”

“Barbara already knew you were crazy,” Dad replied, opening another container. “After all the stories I’ve told her, this probably seemed a tame evening in comparison.”

“Did she leave?”

“No one left,” Dad said. “It wasn’t safe. She’s in one of the guest rooms in the east wing.”

“I take it she wasn’t in the room for romance,” I quipped.

Dad scorched me with a look. “We’re not talking about that, young lady,” he said. “That’s none of your business. Besides, we have bigger things to talk about.”

“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and cringing at the ache in my forearm.

“Did Griffin clean that wound before he wrapped it?” Dad asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, at least he did something right.”

“Don’t talk badly about Griffin,” I said, surprised at my own tone. “He’s been great. I told him to leave me out there and he refused. That should make you happy. I don’t understand why you hate him so much.”

“I don’t hate him,” Dad corrected. “I actually like him. I’m not thrilled with the … things … I know you two are doing. I’m trying to get over it. You need to understand that I’m still your father. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean I can forget the little girl you used to be.”

“I thought you wanted me out of the family?” I pressed. Hey, if I was going to tick him off I might as well jump in with both feet.

“That’s not what I said,” Dad said, his voice echoing. “You never listen to me. It drives me crazy. I didn’t ask you to leave because I wanted you out of the family, and the fact that you’re even suggesting that makes me want to strangle you.

“I asked you to leave because I knew your brothers were going to melt down,” he continued. “I didn’t want you to be a target when it happened.”

“You’re angry. You can admit it.”

“I am angry,” Dad conceded. “I’m not sure how much of that anger is directed at you, though. Believe it or not, Aisling, I know what you were trying to do. I’ve seen you suffer the past two weeks … and it’s been killing me.

“You’re thinner than you should be,” he continued. “You’re nervous and jumpy. Griffin is the only one you’ve been talking to. We’ve all noticed it. We were going to have a family discussion with you if things didn’t change.

“The problem is, we didn’t know what you were really grappling with,” Dad said. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” I said. “If I told everyone my suspicions about Mom being alive and they turned out to be untrue … what then?”

“You were in a rough spot,” Dad said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I were in your position. No matter what happens, though, you’re my daughter. You can’t get out of this family. No one will ever kick you out.”

“I’m pretty sure my brothers see it differently.”

“Your brothers are … morons fifty percent of the time,” Dad said, causing me to laugh despite myself. “They’re going to get over this. They need time. That’s why I wanted you out of here last night. I knew they were going to rant and rave for hours. I didn’t want them heaping abuse on you when you’ve already been dealing with so much.”

I was surprised. “Really? You can yell at me if you want. I think I deserve it.”

“I think the punishment you’ve been doling out to yourself is more than enough,” Dad replied, lifting the plate he was assembling for my inspection. “How does this look?”

“I … I love you, Dad.”

Dad’s expression softened. “I love you, too,” he said. “Your brothers will still be a pain tomorrow. You know that, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, then you’re going to need your strength to fight with them.” Dad placed the plate in the microwave. Instead of turning back to me, though, his attention landed on a spot over my left shoulder. “You don’t need to hover, Griffin. Everything is fine.”

I swiveled on the stool, swallowing a laugh when I saw Griffin sheepishly step into the kitchen. He wore plaid boxer shorts and a
My Pretty Pony
T-shirt.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Griffin offered. “I just … I needed to be sure she was okay. This was the only shirt I could find in the dresser that fit me. I had no idea you liked
My Pretty Pony
.”

I snorted. “That’s not mine. That’s Jerry’s.”

“Well, that explains that.”

“Sit down, Griffin,” Dad ordered. “You’re probably hungry, too.”

“I could eat,” Griffin admitted, hopping onto the stool next to me.

Dad started fixing him a plate. “I don’t care if you like cooked carrots or not,” he said. “You’re getting what I fix for you.”

Griffin smirked. “I’m not the picky eater Aisling is,” he said. “She has a few fussy food idiosyncrasies.”

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Dad agreed, although the small smile playing at the corner of his mouth told me he was joking. “We need to discuss what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“We can try to sneak out before everyone is up,” I offered. “That might make things easier.”

“You’re not running away,” Dad said. “Kicking you out last night was a mistake. I was hoping to protect you from your brothers, but you guys are going to need to work this out if we want to move forward.”

“They’re going to yell.”

“They are going to yell,” Dad said. “You’re going to yell, too. That’s why you need food to bolster you. It’s going to be a big fight.”

“Dad, I … .”

“Aisling, I don’t know what all of this means and I’m too tired to figure it out tonight,” Dad said. “The only reason I’m still up is because … I needed to see you. There was no way I was chancing a visit to your bedroom when I knew you weren’t alone. You’ve always had a penchant for midnight snacks. I took a chance you would need food after your adventure.

“We’re tackling this as a family tomorrow,” he continued. “For tonight, all you need to worry about is eating – and making sure you don’t let the cop get too handsy under my roof.”

I snickered. “Don’t worry. No matter how cute he is, I’m never going to do anything with him when he’s wearing a
My Little Pony
shirt. I have my standards.”

“That’s my girl,” Dad said. He reached across the counter and grabbed my hand, dragging my eyes to his. “You’ll always be my girl. We’ll figure this out.”

For the first time in weeks, I finally felt as if that was a real possibility.

Twenty-Four

I slipped my hand into Griffin’s before moving into the dining room the next morning. The conversation with my father did me a world of good, and my second bout of sleep was heavy and dreamless. I woke up feeling refreshed.

In the light of the new day, though, we still had old problems to overcome.

“It’s going to be okay,” Griffin said, squeezing my hand. “The worst is already behind you.”

We both knew that wasn’t true. My mother was still out there and very likely trying to grab me. We could tackle only one problem at a time.

“This is probably going to be rough,” I said.

“Nothing is worse than your father seeing me in a
My Pretty Pony
shirt. It doesn’t get rougher than that.”

I giggled, rolling up on my toes so I could give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for … everything.”

Griffin affectionately tugged on a strand of my hair. “When this is all over, you’re going to thank me in a much more entertaining way.”

“That’s just what I want to hear before I eat my breakfast,” said Dad, appearing in the hallway behind us and pushing us apart so he could shuffle toward the dining room. “I’m going to have you neutered, boy. I’ve decided that will fix most of my problems.”

Griffin rolled his eyes, but wordlessly followed my father into the dining room. We were the last to arrive and six sets of eyes shifted in our direction as we made our entry.

“Good morning, Aisling,” Barbara said, her voice unnaturally bright. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine. Thank you.”

“You look better,” Barbara said. “You’re probably starving. You didn’t get dinner last night.”

I offered Dad a weak smile before moving to my usual spot. “I could eat.”

“Perhaps you should try the restaurant down the street,” Aidan suggested, his eyes dark.

I ignored the jab and settled in the open spot next to Jerry, letting Griffin sit on my other side. “Good morning, Jerry.”

“Good morning, Bug,” Jerry said, his eyes kind. He didn’t look angry, which was good. He was in a bad place. I knew that. He couldn’t offer me support while Aidan was upset, though. I tried not to take it personally.

“We have a big day ahead of us,” Dad announced. “We need to discuss the gargoyle situation and plan our next move for tracking down information regarding your mother’s … death. That means you all need to get your issues out on the table and make up.”

“Are you saying you’re not angry with her?” Redmond asked, surprised. “What changed?”

Dad rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “I was never angry with Aisling for what she did,” he explained. “I’m not thrilled she didn’t tell us what was going on, but she had her reasons. Don’t even think of saying something obnoxious, Braden.”

Braden had the grace to look abashed, although the ire-filled look he shot me was abundantly clear.

“Aisling thought she was doing the right thing,” Dad continued. “She didn’t want to tell us her suspicions regarding your mother until she had more to go on. She was worried about hurting us.

“Now, I’m not particularly thrilled with her decision-making process on this one, but I do understand it,” Dad said. “She’s been struggling for weeks. We’ve all seen it. We made plans to approach her about it. There’s no need to continue punishing her.”

“You kicked her out of the family last night,” Braden countered. “I like that idea. Let’s go back to that.”

“I did not kick her out of the family,” Dad argued. “I asked her to leave because I knew she’d be your favorite target all night and I didn’t think that would help matters. The only way to get out of this family is death – and apparently even that doesn’t hold now.”