Why couldn’t I have been stronger for Lynne? It was hard to remember her. There’d been nothing left. They’d gotten her breathing again, but she’d suffered a nasty seizure and the resulting brain damage had been hard for a teenage boy to process.
The day I’d walked out the door and never looked back had been the ugliest of them all. I’d gotten home after school—no more sports for me because that took too much time away from being Mom’s manservant—and the house had stunk.
Lynne had been parked in her wheelchair alone in front of the TV. Fear had shot through me that our mother had passed, too, and how the hell was I going to care for my sister?
Mom had been asleep in bed while Lynne had festered in her feces for hours.
I’d wrestled my sister into the tub while Mom had hollered about the smell and demanded I take care of it. And I’d tried, but—
With a gruff clearing of my throat, I continued, skipping past the worst. “Without Dad to take the brunt of Mom’s unhappiness, she deteriorated. Life was hell and I…left.”
I’d almost killed my sister. Left her soaking the dried shit off her skin to go clean up her wheelchair. She’d slid under the water while alone in the bathroom.
Mom’s screaming. I squeezed my eyes shut. God. I’d never hated myself more than that moment, though most days since then had come close.
“My dad’s boss never quit checking on me. Abe owned the company I own now, but he built houses, too. That’s the company my dad worked for. I had nowhere to go, and I called and asked if he could spot me a night at a motel until I figured the rest out. He and his wife took me in and he gave me a job.”
“How old were you.”
“Sixteen.”
Her warm breath wafted over my chest. “What about your mom now? Is she still alive?”
“Yes. We’re estranged.”
You get back here and take care of your sister, you spoiled little shit.
Why so you can sleep all day?
Mom hit me up to pay for Lynne’s care. Sending her monthly payments for the group home was barely a balm for my troubled soul, but it was all I could bring myself to do. Any more and the price tag was Mom back in my life. I already proved I couldn’t care for Lynne.
“Abe put me through school, trained me on the job, and when he died, he left me his business, which I grew and expanded.”
“He’d be proud.”
I couldn’t respond. Take care of that sister of yours, son. She’s got less than you do.
Somehow, I didn’t think Abe would approve of my monthly stipend for Lynne’s expenses.
Tilly’s breath evened out. I stared at the ceiling. What would Tilly do if she found out I’d abandoned my sister? Tilly, the woman who made it her career to help children.
I’d do my best not to find out.
Chapter 11
Flynn
Rapping on the front door had me prying my eyelids open. The first sensation I registered was a firm bottom pressed against my side, then a leg draped over mine. Tilly had rolled over and sprawled in a twist. How could she sleep like that? I was flat on my back but had slept solidly until some asshole had woken me with pounding on a Saturday morning.
The doorbell rang, a sad sound that moaned like it was running low on batteries, only it was electric. Was the wiring bad?
Tilly twitched, her head popped up.
More knocking.
“I’ll get it.” I’d give it to the bastard, too.
I swung my legs down. My gym bag sat by the front door. Thankfully, I’d had the foresight to bring it in so I didn’t have to pull on my slacks. I crept out, checking the door and windows to see if anyone was going to get a view of a full moon in the early morning.
I bent over my duffel and opened it to get my shorts. As I was stepping into them a woman called from the other side. “Tilly? Are you home?”
I ripped open the door, my anger only partially mollified because it was a little old lady disturbing my peaceful morning. “Can I help you?”
The woman paused, her hand poised to knock again, her eyes on my bare chest. It was probably the first time someone other than a bed partner had seen me in a state of disarray. My shorts were rumpled, but my gym was private and in my office building. My hair had to be pointing in every direction from the way Tilly had run her hands through it and fisted it the night before.
Tilly approached from behind. “Hey, Mrs. B.”
Mrs. Blumenthal’s gaze peeled off my chest. “Tilly. I feared you weren’t home. But this young, strapping gentleman answered.”
Mrs. B may have been of average height in her prime, but she must be in her eighties now and was closer to five feet tall. Her gaze was as sharp as her mind probably was.
“Flynn, meet my landlady.”
I held out my hand. Mrs. B gave me an assessing look as her soft, wrinkled hand clasped mine in a light shake.
She switched her focus to Tilly. Had I passed her inspection? “I wanted to let you know that the roofers aren’t going to be here today. You mentioned having to leave while they were working, so I wanted to catch you early.”
“Thanks. So when are they going to be here?”
Mrs. Blumenthal heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m going to have to find a new place to do it. The owner of the company kept trying to raise the cost. I showed him the insurance estimate, I already have twenty percent to pay for the deductible, but he thinks he can con an old woman. Schmuck.”
My lips twitched. Abe would’ve liked Mrs. B.
“I’m sorry.” That was the thing about Tilly. She sounded genuinely sorry.
Mrs. Blumenthal waved her off. “It is what it
