The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 by Barbara Meyers Read Free Book Online Page B

it.”
    His father turned on him, his eyes ablaze. “No, son. I don’t think you do. What scares me the most is I don’t think you ever will.”
    “Looks like Justin Spoley’s got company when it comes to holding grudges.” Trey pushed back from the table. “Mom, thanks for dinner. Dad.” He nodded in Andy’s direction. “Thanks for the insights.”
    He could hear his mother calling after him as he strode through the house and pushed through the door. He didn’t go back. He couldn’t. He flew out of the driveway, spraying up more gravel than he had pulling in. His temper pulsed beneath a thin layer of self-control.
    Breathe.
    He made himself do it. Counting. Inhaling. Exhaling. Until he reached his house. It didn’t do much to still the wild beat of his heart, but it cleared his mind. Slightly. Enough to remember he hadn’t had even one chocolate chip cookie. He’d also left behind the foil-covered plate of them his mother planned to send home with him.

Chapter Five
    Baylee’s father stumbled in after ten, which meant he’d spent most of the afternoon and evening on a bar stool. Although she knew better than to confront him when he was under the influence, lately there was never a good time to approach him about anything. Matty still hadn’t come home, and technically, at least, Matty was her father’s responsibility.
    While her father rooted around in the refrigerator for sandwich makings, Baylee said, “Jack Frost stopped by this afternoon. Matty cut first period today, which is a violation of his probation.”
    Dan Westring straightened and gazed at her through bleary eyes. He chewed on a slice of salami he’d managed to extract from the package in his hand. In the light of the refrigerator he looked old and tired and sad. Drunk. Sadness crept up on Baylee without warning. Her family was drowning and she didn’t know what to do to save any of them. Not even herself.
    He swallowed and put another piece of salami into his mouth while he stared at Baylee. She wondered if what she’d said had penetrated the fog in his brain. “Daddy, we have to do something. You have to do something. Matty can’t keep getting in trouble like this.”
    Dan Westring swayed and staggered a couple of steps to the counter. The refrigerator door swung shut behind him, leaving them in the dim glow of the light over the stove. He dropped the package of salami on the counter and clung to the edges of the solid surface for support. “Kid don’t listen to me,” he slurred.
    He stared at the scarred, speckled Formica as if it could offer up some answers.
    “Dad, you need to stop drinking. Maybe if you did—”
    “You blaming this on me? Whadda you know? You never had no kids to raise.” He shook a finger at Baylee. “So I’m a failure. That what you’re saying? You think I don’t know that? I’m a loser. So are my kids.” His tone softened. “Nothin’ but a bunch of losers.” He left the lunchmeat on the counter and brushed past Baylee. “Get outta my way.”
    Baylee stayed where she was while he shuffled down the hallway. The door to his bedroom closed, but the words he’d spoken reverberated in her head. Losers. Losers. Losers.
     
     
    Baylee’s grandparents’ best friends, Mike and Josephine Pritchard, had lived on Sycamore Road. During her youth she had occasionally visited the Pritchards with them.
    She wouldn’t apologize for being late. Best to let T. C. know who was in charge. It had taken her a while, but she was learning. She wasn’t going to be a doormat for anyone. Not anymore. And certainly not for some overbearing guy who sounded like he was used to ruling the world and getting his own way.
    The address on Sycamore Road turned out to be the Pritchards’ house. It didn’t look much different than Baylee remembered. Josephine, whom everyone called “J”, had passed within the last year. Baylee wasn’t surprised to see not much about the property had changed. There was a black Porsche Cayenne