Chapter 17

"Where the hell have you been?"

Sam froze. She didn't look into the living room where Chris' voice had come from.

"With a friend," she said.

She heard the leather of Chris' recliner creak as he stood, then him crossing the living room. For a split second she debated continuing down the hallway, but that would be running. Larabees didn't run.

She turned and faced her older brother, steeling herself against the look on his face.

"What friend? Morgan?"

Sam's jaw clenched involuntarily. Morgan had Vin now, she was flailing in her decisions and didn't think she wanted or needed Sam to keep her afloat. Watching Morgan struggle since the attack had been hard enough, but seeing how Morgan was avoiding any and all reality of what had happened was worse.

"Not Morgan," Sam said bluntly.

Chris' eyes narrowed. "Then who? Who did you stay out with all night?"

"I wasn't out anywhere," Sam said, lifting her chin slightly in defiance. "I stayed on a friend's couch."

Chris' jaw clamped down more tightly and a vein pulsed at his temple. "What friend?" he asked again, biting off each word.

"You don't know him," Sam lied, her first thought to cover for Ezra before she realized what she had said.

"Him?" Chris asked. His voice was deathly quiet.

Sam held her ground, forced herself not to shuffle back a step. She couldn't remember ever seeing that expression on Chris' face.

"Who is he?" Even quieter. Sam swallowed hard. Why couldn't her brother be a yeller like Buck? Just burst out with whatever irked him and rant and pace and then let the storm blow itself out.

"A friend," Sam said again.

Clearly it was the wrong answer. Chris' eyes narrowed, the vein thrummed, and he bared his teeth slightly. He was about to say something and Sam braced herself.

His phone rang.

"I'm going to be late for school," Sam said, using the momentary distraction to dart past him and down the hall to her room.

"Sam—" Chris started, but she shut her door before he said anything else. She waited until she heard him answer his phone. With any luck he'd be called back into work and she would get a reprieve from whatever conversation was coming.

She looked down at her clothes. Her t-shirt was wrinkled under her jacket, but her jeans were good enough for school. She looked in the mirror and grimaced. She searched her dresser for her hairbrush and tugged it through her hair.

Ezra hadn't said anything about her hair, or her clothes, but then Sam figured he hadn't been expecting her to look any better than her current state after sleeping on his couch.

Ezra had given her a ride home, but wisely stopped at the end of the driveway and let her out. He had made the comment that she should text him that her brother hadn't murdered her, but Sam had a sneaking suspicion he wanted the confirmation she had made it up the long driveway and home safely.

She sank down into her desk chair and pulled her phone from her pocket.

Still alive. It was enough to reassure Ezra.

She heard Chris's voice from the other room. Whoever he was talking to, it wasn't calming him down. She looked at her bedroom window and debated using that as an exit, getting out of the house and to school. But her car was still broken. And judging from the way Chris was barely controlling his anger in the next room, he wasn't going to be inclined to fix it for her any time soon.

Sam heaved a sigh. Normally she would head for Morgan's when Chris got like this. Stay with Morgan and Buck long enough for her and Chris to both get some space to cool down. But she couldn't go stay with Morgan and that guy Morgan was with. Sam grimaced.

There was a sharp knock on her bedroom door.

"Let's go. School time," Chris said, sounding more drill sargaent than older brother at the moment.

Sam huffed out another long sigh and pushed herself up from her desk chair.

Chris hadn't bothered to wait for her.

Sam made her way back outside, skipping any food on the way, her stomach still a little unsettled from her dinner of brandy the night before.

She went out to Chris' truck and got in. She slumped against the window and hoped for a silent ride to school.

#

"Are you ok?"

Morgan dug through one of the bags they had packed up at Buck's house the day before. "Fine," she said without looking at Vin. She found the shirt she was looking for and pulled it out.

"You need a ride to school?" Vin asked.

Morgan's fingers tightened reflexively on the shirt. "I'm not going," she said. She forced herself to relax her grip. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and settled the garbage bag on the floor with the rest of her things. She took off the shirt she had slept in and pulled on the clean one. She found a pair of jeans in one of the other bags and tugged them on, grimacing when the button wouldn't quite fasten.

"You have something else planned for today?" Vin asked.

Morgan pulled harder at the button, sucking in her stomach, but she couldn't make it reach. It was the pregnancy.

"I need to get out of here," she blurted out, whirling around, needing distance from the one thing she couldn't outrun.

"Ok. Where do you want to go?"

Morgan clenched her hands into fists, paced across the room. She felt Vin's eyes on her.

"How about breakfast?" he asked. "There's a diner a couple blocks over."

Morgan nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Let's go." She went to the door and swung it open, needing some air, but froze.

Vin came alongside her. "He ain't home today," he said quietly. "He works on Tuesdays."

Morgan tossed her hair again. "I don't know who you're talking about," she said, even as the tension in her eased slightly.

Vin didn't push her denial, something Morgan was grateful for. She went down the steep staircase with him, heading out into the chilly morning.

The working class neighborhood bordered on more of an unemployed neighborhood, hardscrabble homes, broken down cars, and dirt patch yards lining the pothole filled streets.

"You want to talk—"

"No," Morgan said more sharply than she intended. She drew a long breath in. "No. Thanks though, "she said more evenly.

They walked in silence.

"How often do you usually go to school?" Vin asked.

"How often do you go?" Morgan countered.

Vin smiled. "Not often," he said. "Teacher's don't always know who I am when I show up."

Morgan couldn't help the smile that his unrepentant answer charmed from her. "They know who I am," she said. "But I haven't been there regularly since…" her smile fell.

She felt Vin's hand brush hers, his hand find hers and him take her hand in a light hold. Secure.

She tightened her fingers around his.

The diner wasn't in much better shape than the neighborhood it served. Vin held the door for Morgan, then led her toward a booth in the far corner.

Morgan slid into the vinyl seat. Vin took the seat across from her and picked up the menu.

Morgan narrowed her eyes at his relaxed posture apart from her and impulsively got up and went to the bench seat he was seated on, sliding in next to him.

Vin watched her, surprise clear on his face.

Morgan tilted her head, silently daring him to send her back to her side of the booth.

Vin raised his eyebrows at her and Morgan crashed her lips against his. She slid a hand along his shoulder, anchoring herself against any memories that threatened.

Heat that was growing familiar when she was near him flared and she slipped her other hand along his back.

"Would you like an appetizer before the main course?"

Morgan nibbled Vin's lip lightly before pulling away. Vin looked dazed, so Morgan turned to the waitress.

The waitress looked more amused than annoyed. "You brought a friend this morning, Vin," she said.

Vin blinked then shook his head slightly. "Yeah. I, uh," he finally seemed to get his bearings again and looked at the waitress. "This is Morgan. Morgan, this is Inez."

"Hi," Morgan said. She watched as Inez' expression softened with affection for Vin before she turned to Morgan.

"It's nice to meet you, Morgan. It's good to see Vin with a 'friend'." The humor in her expression showed she knew exactly how much more Morgan was than a friend.

Morgan glanced at Vin and saw the tips of his ears redden. He ducked his head. Some of Morgan's own amusement faded. She wondered how often Vin came to this diner alone. How often he ate all his meals alone.

She leaned back against him while he ordered without looking at the menu, then while she ordered.

Inez gave her a warm smile when she took their menus, then a friendly wink.

Vin shifted, stretching an arm around Morgan, pulling her closer to him without restricting any of her movement.

Morgan settled against him more comfortably, letting the sounds of the diner and the steady rise and fall of Vin's chest drive away any other memories or thoughts that might threaten.

#

Buck stared out the kitchen window at the trees, their leaves bright with fall colors. He watched one fall to the ground without really seeing it.

The house was too quiet without Morgan there. She usually had music on in her room, or was watching some horrible chick flick on the couch. Or Sam would be over and the two of them would be alternating between fits of laughter and shouting matches. Without Morgan there the house was…dead.

Buck ran his hands over his face. Worse than missing Morgan was worrying about her. Knowing she was with some guy he didn't know, a kid with a police record, someone who could be using Morgan. He didn't even want to consider the ways that punk could be using his sister.

The worst part was trying to figure out how he could have stopped it.

Buck jammed his fingers into his hair.

Had he been too lenient with Morgan? Hovered too much? Not home enough? Should he have forced her to talk to him? Given her more space?
"Dammit," he muttered, dropping his head back into his hands.

He thought of their ma, gone two years now. He wasn't sure if he wished she was here to give Morgan guidance, or glad she couldn't see what a mess Morgan was in while under Buck's care. Not that Ruby Wilmington hadn't had her share of messes. Her life had been a revolving door of men, both in her professional and personal life—some of the men decent, some not—but she had always been there for Buck and Morgan. Always put them first. She had been a saint.

Buck rubbed his temples.

His phone rang from where it sat on the kitchen table and Buck jerked upright, grabbing for it.

"Hello?" he said without looking at caller ID. "Morgan?"

"Mr. Wilmington?" came a lady's voice. Not Morgan.

Buck sank back against the counter, deflated. "Yeah," he said. He didn't much care who it was if it wasn't Morgan calling to let him know she was alright.

"This is Mary Travis, I'm the principal at—"

Buck snapped to attention. "I know who you are," he cut her off. "Is Morgan ok? Did something happen?"

"Nothing's happened," came the soothing response. "But I would like to have you stop by the school so we could talk."

"What do you need to talk about? Is it Morgan?" Buck paced across his kitchen. Of course it was Morgan. Why else was the principal of her school calling?

"Is there a time this week that would be convenient for you?"

Never. There was never a convenient time to hear what more could be going wrong with Morgan. "Today," Buck said. Better to pull the trigger and find out.

"Ok," Mrs. Travis said. "I have some time around two today. Would that work—"

"I'll be there," Buck said grimly. He hung up the phone, knowing his lack of manners wouldn't help Morgan's case any.

He wasn't sure what would help Morgan at this point. But he wasn't a quitter. Especially when it was his baby sister at risk.

#