Page 36

the loosey-goosey club

Christian

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?”

“I mean, sir, that in the confusion of ambulances at the Murphy’s, she slipped away. Her vehicle is there. Her phone is still there. She is…” Fitz pauses as if he’s uncomfortable with what he has to relay. “…Not.”

I pull the phone from my face to stare down at it as if I can will it into submission. When I return it to my face, I seethe, “Fitz, find her. Now.” I click the phone off and pace.

Hours. She’s been gone for hours. Her coffee run was nearly eleven hours ago. Coffee shop to her parents. Then… nothing.

Where the fuck is my wife?

I know. Of course, I know. I bolt for the door and am in the G Wagon before I can question it. Speeding these streets is brutal at rush hour, and rush hour seems to be continuing well past the time it should. I skid on two wheels into Cian Murphy’s driveway.

I bang on his door to nothing but silence. No response. No barking from Eleanor. Nothing.

Pure, still Colorado night.

But I know better.

I know Ayla.

And while she thinks that leaving her phone and car behind can hide her, her heart is a different matter.

The fact that there were two ambulances means something’s wrong. Either both her parents needed them or… I can’t think about the other option. It would mean she needed one.

Halley is out. I’ve talked with her throughout the day.

She doesn’t know what’s happening and has asked me to check in with her when I locate Ayla.

Liam would be option number two. He seems to be off on some mission and out of town.

He’s heading back this way since his sister is MIA.

He may be rough and tumble, but his sister is an exception to his bristly nature.

But Cian and Eleanor? Ayla’s heart is safe with that dog and it’s where she’ll run if she’s scared. And while her first reaction is always anger, it usually mellows into fear.

I walk around the house to the stone patio that skirts the woods and provides a barrier to the night. Inside, one light is on. One that barely pushes warmth into the evening twilight and halos my wife, lying on the floor, huddled in on the dog who thinks she’s the sun, the moon, and the stars.

My wife who ignored my knocks.

Her brother sits in one of the chairs staring down at his sister and his dog curl up in the fetal position. He thumbs his phone while his head lifts to watch the two before returning to his screen.

Eventually, his eyes lift to mine. His jaw goes hard, but he holds my gaze until doing so would look foolish. Pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick text to him. His chin lifts to mine and dips once.

I lift the tails of my coat up and finally take a seat on a patio chair. Cold seeps in as darkness overtakes what’s left of the day. And I watch.

Ayl a

Eventually, I have to get off the floor, right?

I stroke my hand through Eleanor’s fur. The curls that wanted to wrap and knot around my fingers are a thing of the past. My fingers slide easily over her chest, down her hip, and over her legs, before reversing course to her ears and beginning their path again.

She’s been so patient with me today, giving me what I’ve needed as my shit life has unfolded in gory detail before my eyes.

I’m cried out. I’ve gone through disbelief and anger to some kind of resolve.

But my tank is full right now because my sweet girl has allowed me to siphon her calmness, love, and peace to take as my own.

She jumped and flipped when Christian pounded on the door. Everything in her went on the defensive in that moment, except for baring her teeth. I’ve never seen her like that until tonight. She sat, alert and ready, between me and the door as if her job was to ensure I couldn’t be touched.

Cian’s cameras notified him the moment the SUV hit the driveway, though I have to say, I was shocked he waited this long to come for me. My brother didn’t move, and neither did I as we waited for the knocking to stop.

I should be surprised he went away as fast as he did.

I shouldn’t be surprised that a call to the little old man who mentioned how well I looked on my date last night verified what my dad claimed in his sucker punch this morning. I am, in fact, a ward of my husband.

I own nothing, have no legal rights, possess no money, and have no agency in my life. I’m a nineteen-fifties housewife with hobbies that make my husband money while he controls… everything.

Every.

Fucking.

Thing.

I don’t understand. I don’t understand how I have a voice and a mind and am not allowed to control my life, make my own decisions.

Allowed.

As if I need permission. I didn’t need permission when I lived at home with my overly controlling dad and I didn’t need permission when I chose to marry the asshole who now owns me.

I have issues remembering some chunks of time after a traumatic brain injury. That’s not unusual or unreasonable. It doesn’t mean I’m incompetent.

“Come back, Ellie.” I stroke a hand down her spine and she turns, this time positioning herself on my other side doing something similar.

“Ci, help her. It looks like she’s all spun up.”

“Yeah, and two Murphy women on edge is two too many.”

“Exactly.” I stroke Eleanor’s fur and offer my brother a genuine, albeit small, smile. “I get to freak out today. I don’t need her stealing my thunder.”

His eyes level me, and his face goes serious as he leans his elbows to his knees. “What do you need from me, little sister? I’m out of my element and don’t have a trick in my bag for this fucked-up situation. What do you want me to do? How do I support you in this?”

“You mean you, Cian Murphy, the methodical planner with a contingency for every little thing, doesn’t have a set of rules for when your sister is deemed incompetent? They’re going to retract your Type-A card and admit you to the loosey-goosey club.”

“Does the loosey-goosey club have good women, because the Type-A club ones are boring.”

A laugh escapes me. So does a lone tear.

This is so my big brother. He’s the steady one—meticulous, logical, orderly.

He’s pressed slacks and a carwash membership and two mats to wipe your shoes on at the front door.

One for the big chucks, another for the fine dust, before leaving them in the corner in the foyer.

He’s who you want running your business and organizing any event. His contingencies have contingencies.

“I so love you.”

“Love you too.” He turns his phone upside down on the end table and extends a hand to me. He helps me off the floor and leads me to the kitchen where I plop down at the island. “Have any wine?”

“Do you really want wine?”

“Not really.I mostly want not to deal with my day.”

“How about an omelet and toast? It’s not over-the-top comfort food, but it’s warm and quick and nutritious enough.”

“Sounds delicious. Ci. What can I do to help?”

“You handle the toast. I’ll get the rest. What do you want in yours?”

We set about the kitchen, working in tandem as I’m sure we have many times. When I’ve got the bread in the machine, but haven’t pressed the lever, I put my hip to the counter. “Have you told Liam?”

He nods before turning to face me. “I texted him. He’s on his way back from Durango. Said he would come by here before going home. You want to call him and ask if he wants breakfast?” He uses the spatula to gesture to the pan with the sizzling eggs.

I shrug. I do and I don’t. I want both of my brothers with me. But I don’t want to have to acknowledge what Liam already knows… my mental insufficiency according to the world around us. But I need him. “I guess.”

I extend my hand to my brother in a gimme gesture for his phone and scroll to Liam’s name and, after releasing a huge breath, press his contact.

“Yeah?”

“ Yeah? It’s been forever and I get a yeah . Not a good evening, not a what’s up, sis? But yeah. I see how it is.”

“Ayla-girl.” The words are a comfort to me. He’s the only one who calls me that and somehow, the tears start to well.

“Li. Are you”—the wind and the road noise remind me of summer—“on your bike?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s dark out.”

The low rumble of his annoyed laugh meets me. “Headlights, Ayla. They put them in cars now too.”

“Shut up, ass munch. You know I worry.”

“Love you too, sis. Love you too. ”

“We’re making omelets at Ci’s. How far out are you?”

“Too far out to make it for dinner, but not so far I won’t see you tonight. If you make an extra omelet, throw it in the microwave for me?”

“What do you want in it?”

“Whatever you’re putting in yours. See you in a bit.” Liam clicks off before I can tell him I love him or to be safe.

I stare at the phone in my hand as if it will reconnect me to my brother before finding Cian looking at me. “He’s a ways out. No clue when he’ll be here… He didn’t say. But he asked us to make him an omelet for when he gets here.”

My brother turns back to the stove and dual wields his spatulas, eventually sliding the beautiful golden egg concoction onto a plate before returning to the pan and dropping more eggs with a sizzle. “What does he want inside?”

“Everything we have it sounds like.”

“Plus jalapenos. Mind grabbing those from the fridge?”

I do as I’m asked and wordlessly rinse and chop a pepper on the cutting board, avoiding it touching the good stuff.

“I swear he’s burned off his taste buds.”

Ci laughs, but says nothing as he works on the second omelet. “We’re good for you to drop the toast.”

I do. We work in tandem until he slides the second plate onto the island and we land, side-by-side, to dig in.

“I’m not crazy, Cian.”

“Never thought you were, Ayla.”

“So how do we fix this? I don’t need a caregiver. Yeah, I have some dark patches in my memory, but I’m not incapacitated. Surely a judge can recognize that.”

He takes a long sip of his orange juice and looks thoughtfully toward the back window. “We’ll figure it out. Promise.”

I wish he’d say more. But he’s said it all anyway. We don’t know. But I’m not deficient. And he’s on my team to figure it out.

He stands as I finish my last bites and returns to the stove, starting the burner while cracking a few more eggs. He whistles as he makes the last omelet, piling it full of everything we had left, plus the peppers and a little more meat he had in his fridge.

When he’s satisfied with it, he slides it onto a plate and places it in the microwave, before proceeding to scrub the pan and throw the plates and glasses into the dishwasher.

“Want to watch a movie?” His gaze is on mine via the reflection in the window.

“Nah. I think I really just want to sleep. I’m wiped from today.”

He nods thoughtfully and turns, propping a hip on the counter near the sink, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “He’ll come back.”

“And he can kiss my ass.”

A small smirk plays on my brother’s lips. “At least he’s getting pissed-off, fighting Ayla.”

“Is there another one?”

He folds the towel and places it near the sink. “No. Only the one.”

“I’ll let Liam know you went to bed early.”

“Thanks, Cian.” I round the island and wrap him in a hug. “Do I get Eleanor for the night?”

“As if I could do anything to change that.” He kisses the top of my head before releasing me.

I wander toward his guest room and slide out of most of my clothes before piling under the heavy, thick covers and rolling toward the windows. The smells and the sounds are wrong. This isn’t my bed or my home. And for those reasons, I love it all the more and curl into a ball on my side.

My eyes are almost scratchy from being warm and puffy. The crying jags have made them heavy and thick and sleep takes me quickly.