Page 18 of Best Laid Plans

“And I thought my family was fucked-up,” Hoops mutters.

Lil doesn’t say a word. She’s sitting so still that if I couldn’t see her chest moving, I’d worry she wasn’t breathing.

“Lil?” Havoc says her name softly, everyone turning back to look at her.

“They were bad people, all of them. They used God as a shield when, truthfully, he would have been sickened by their actions. Eventually, their numbers dwindled until only the youngest were left behind.

“There were five left in total. All boys. My father became the ringleader and convinced them they could have a better setup. All the blessings of God, the women, yada yada. They built a new house, put up secure fencing, and set booby traps for intruders, which were unlikely given how far off the beaten path they were. They had their own garden and greenhouse, and eventually some animals too—cows, chickens, sheep.”

“They made it so they had everything they needed,” Toot murmurs.

“Except for one thing.” Lil looks at him, but it’s Circus who answers.

“Women.”

Lil nods. “They decided to start with one. They’d share her—or that’s what they thought. Only my dad had no intention of sharing.”

Her hands start shaking, so she pulls them from the table and lays them in her lap. I reach over and take one, finding them cold and clammy.

“They stole transient women, mostly, or sex workers. People who wouldn’t be missed. They had their fun, and then my father had them disposed of, saying they weren’t quite right.”

“Jesus.”

She looks at me. “He was a product of his upbringing. Fucked-up, but true nonetheless.”

She looks away again before continuing. “I don’t know what made my mother special, but it was enough for my father to kill the rest of the men so he could keep her for himself. My first memories are hazy. It won’t surprise you to know there was no love in our house. I remember my mother was just a vacant shell. I didn’t know why until years later.

“They were both older by the time I came along. When I turned seventeen, they were in their sixties. My mom died in her sleep four days after my birthday. My father had been sick for a while, but doctors were not an option for us. He told me all this from his deathbed. I don’t know if he was proud of himself or trying to atone for his sins. That man could have drowned in a vat of holy water, and it still wouldn’t have been enough to wash away his filth.”

She pauses for a moment and takes a deep, steadying breath. “As soon as he died, I shoved a few meager belongings into a backpack and started walking. I didn’t know where I was going, but anywhere had to be better than there. Turns out I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things.”

Her face is pale, her body is trembling, and I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. I slide my chair back, then reach over and scoop her up and place her in my lap. I wrap my arms around her, hoping some of my heat will seep into her cold skin.

Havoc gets to his feet and walks out, leaving us frowning. Before anyone can follow, he’s back with a bottle of water in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other. “Pick your poison.”

“Water. Lil doesn’t drink,” I answer for her, reaching for the bottle.

People look surprised. “What?”

“What do you mean she doesn’t drink? I’ve seen her drinking that cheap-ass box wine. She’s the only reason we stock it,” Crane says.

“She empties it and fills it with apple juice.” Dice chuckles. “It’s close enough in color that nobody pays enough attention to it to call her on it.”

“What the fuck for?” Kruger frowns, confused.

“Because whenever I turned a drink down, someone always felt the need to pressure me into having one. Like, I’m not fun sober. I switched out the wine to solve the problem and acted accordingly, a little tipsy.”

“I still don’t get it,” mutters Kruger.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t like being drunk and not in full control of my body.” Before he can say anything again, she sighs. “My father made moonshine, and I was forced to drink it whether I wanted it or not because a drunk daughter is a compliant one. When your memory is hazy, it’s easy to convince someone they didn’t say no, that they begged for it.

“I’m sorry, Havoc, I need a second.” She jumps off my lap and hurries to the door, yanking it open, leaving us all in silence.

“Did she just say her daddy…” Toot’s voice fades away as the knowledge—that Lil’s father hurt her in a way no daddy should— sinks in.

I get to my feet, my eyes seeking out Havoc.

He nods. “Go, we can wait.”