Page 10

“Emmitt! Rebel’s here!” Sandra called into the house as Miranda followed.

They were supposed to eat dinner, like a normal family, but Miranda was pretty sure she’d be the one cooking and that nothing had been prepped. It was like they had given up on doing the normal things households did once Tierney had been born. Maybe even a bit before then.

“Do I need to do anything for dinner?” Miranda asked as she stepped into the kitchen, finding nothing ready. Her mother didn’t even answer.

She groaned.

She found her mom sitting on the couch in the living room with Rebel wriggling in her lap and her dad in the recliner, scotch in his glass and a book in his hands. He always was the quiet one. “Do you mind if we just order something in?”

She was too exhausted to cook. Parenting wasn’t something that came naturally to her, and it wasn’t anything she had ever wanted. Not after seeing the way her parents had handled it. They were the perfect example of a couple who just gave up, especially with surprise kid number two.

“Sure!” Sandra bubbled, baby talking to Rebel two seconds later.

Miranda hated it. It was probably why the kid didn’t talk to begin with. She’d had time that week to sit down and talk with Aili, the director at the daycare center, about Rebel and some of her behaviors and lack of milestones. She wasn’t quite two, but she was fast approaching her birthday and she should at least be saying some words. Her instincts on that had been correct. Sighing, Miranda moved into the kitchen to place an order from her parents’ favorite restaurant.

When she sat down, she was ready for the day to end. But of course, she still had her almost two-year-old niece to look after. And with the problems she’d had that week, she wasn’t even sure where to begin.

“Have you thought more about having your own?” Her mom asked.

Miranda frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “My own what?”

“Kids.” Sandra’s brown eyes, an exact match for Miranda’s, locked on hers.

“Uh…no.” Miranda clenched her jaw. She did not want children, and she’d been firm on that since she was sixteen and started to raise her sister because they refused to. The first three years, Miranda had been Tierney’s primary caregiver, and when she’d gone to school to become a mortician, her parents had flipped. Not having that backup had been the end of their world. But Tierney had basically been in school by then, and they were as hands off as possible since.

“You should settle down, find someone, and have a family.”

Because that worked so well for you. Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. Her mom started on this line of conversation any time Rebel or Tierney showed up, as if the only value Miranda had was her ability to have a family. She hated that. She was worth the same as anyone who wanted a family.

Tori had a family. Maybe she already had a big one. Miranda was aware of the one girl who was hers, but she could be the youngest of a crew.

Crossing her arms, Miranda leaned back in the chair as Rebel crawled up into her father’s lap, settling in to look at the book for a second before climbing back down. Tori was young, perky, and cute in every sense of the words. She was adorable really, and always had a smile on her face. Even when they’d thought Rebel might have gotten out into the road, Tori had smiled and kept her calm.

She seemed like the quintessential parent. Low key, down to earth, ready to get dirty with whatever idea her kid threw her way. And her daughter was adorable. The spitting image of her mother with those big sky blue eyes and shock of dark brown hair. Did she have more kids? There had only been one seat in her car when they’d met in the parking lot, but Tori seemed like someone who would want more than just one kid. A parent to her core.

Miranda jerked with a start when Rebel screamed. She cringed and stood up to scoop Rebel into her arms and comfort her, checking for whatever injury she had endured. “What happened, baby?”

Rebel screamed louder, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Did you hit your head?”

Running her fingers over Rebel’s head, she searched for any kind of bump or redness. She didn’t find anything. Instead, Miranda settled for holding Rebel against her side and cradling her until she was calm.

“Get her some ice, honey,” her father called from his chair, back to reading his book.

Miranda walked into the kitchen to pull out a small ice pack. She handed it over to Rebel, who promptly threw it onto the ground. If she knew where Rebel had hurt herself, then she could show her how to use it. There was so much she didn’t know about her, so much about Rebel that had been left out.

Her phone rang. Miranda frowned as she reached for it, seeing it was the hospital calling. She was on call. She had managed to switch everything around so she wasn’t on call the first week she had Rebel, but it had been too long and she’d had to take a few nights. The phone call was quick, but she had no choice.

“Dad?” Miranda stepped back into the kitchen. “That was the hospital.”

“Oh?” He barely glanced up from his book.

She glanced at her mother. “I have to go pick up a body. Do you think…” She wasn’t even sure she wanted to ask them this question. But who else would she ask? The daycare was closed, and she didn’t really have any friends she could call on such short notice, not someone who would be able to watch Rebel. And she didn’t feel right asking someone else to do it. “Do you think you could watch Rebel while I go? It shouldn’t take me more than an hour.”

“Unless you get another call.” Her mother’s snide response slid in there. That had been why she’d asked her father instead. “You’ll never find someone to marry if you’re working all these crazy hours. Who wants to marry a mortician anyway?”

Miranda swallowed the retort. They’d been through this before, and despite telling Sandra that wasn’t what she wanted, they never heard her. It wasn’t ever about love either. It was about ticking off the boxes on the list they didn’t think she was fulfilling. “Can you watch her?”