Page 61 of Unbound

“It takes someone very calm, cool, and collected to wrangle a woman like that.” My aunt’s eyes slide my way. “Ask me how I know.”

I snort. “I’m not sure you and Sybil have a lot in common.”

The blonde tornado tearing through my life barely makes her bed in the morning and eats slices of plain bread straight from the bag. The other day, she walked through the house wearing leggings, one of my T-shirts, and a single sock for an hour before I finally pointed out her bare foot. I’m not sure how in the hell she managed to seem so organized the first week she was here, but it’s fucking impressive now that I know how she actually is on a day-to-day basis.

“You might be surprised.” Deidre lets out a long sigh. “I should probably get going. You came here for peace and quiet, and I have to start getting ready for a visitor.”

I haven’t heard anything about a visitor. “Who’s coming?”

Deidre scowls, her expression souring. “Auntie Constance.”

“Hell.” My uncle Ted’s aunt is a fucking nightmare. She’s nosy, abrasive, and expects everyone to bend over backward to accommodate her when she’s in town. “Why?”

My aunt stands with a groan. “Apparently she had a touch of pneumonia and has decided fresh air will help her condition.”

“Nothing will help that woman’s condition.”

Constance is probably the snottiest person I know. She’s also the richest person I know, which is saying something, because Deidre is no slouch. But Constance comes from old money. Old money her husband was smart enough to turn into new money. A tradition her grandsons have carried on.

“I understand she’s no one’s favorite person, but you know as well as I do I can’t turn her down.” Dusting off the back of her pants, Deidre gives my mother’s memorial a quick scan. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do here.”

Taking care of this place has helped me slowly come to terms with the loss of my mother, and I’m sure it does the same for Deidre. “I will.”

My aunt turns to walk away, but stops short, spinning back to face me. “Oh. Auntie Constance’s welcome brunch is tomorrow morning. Make sure you dress up.”

“I’m actually feeling a little contagious.” I cough for good measure. “I should probably stay home.”

Deidre angles a brow at me. “I will hunt you down and drag you there by your ankles.”

It sounds like an exaggeration, but it’s not. If Aunt DeeDee has to suffer through Constance, we all have to suffer through Constance.

“And bring Sybil.” Deidre smirks. “I’m sure she will love getting to know Ted’s favorite aunt.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” By that, I mean I’ll do everything in my power to get Sybil there. If for no other reason than to serve as a distraction that will keep Constance’s attention off me.

Deidre gives me a wink. “I’m sure you will.”

She rounds the corner, and I wait while the engine of her UTV starts up and grows quiet as she pulls away. Leaving me alone.

It’s a normal state for me. I spend most of my time outside of work by myself. I’m used to it. But today it’s not as comfortable as it normally is.

Leaning forward, I scrub both hands over my face. “Fuck.” I drop my head, letting it hang. “What am I doing?”

I don’t have a clue. I’m playing a game I know damn well I won’t win.

Letting Sybil go through my mother’s things had to happen. But at what cost? Sure, she might find something helpful to her investigation. Something to point her in a direction that might be the key to uncovering what happened that night twenty-six years ago.

But what else will she find? What other secrets are hiding in those boxes?

Secrets of mine.

If I were less of a coward, I’d go back to the house and stop her. Dig through the boxes on my own and pass along anything relevant I find.

But the thought of it incapacitates me. Stalls out my breathing and tightens my chest. Honestly, so has the thought of anyone else digging through the boxes—my aunt, my cousins… I couldn’t even consider allowing it.

But for some reason, Sybil being the one opening many of those boxes for the first time doesn’t twist my guts. It doesn’t send ants crawling under my skin. She might be a terror in some ways, but I know—without a shadow of a doubt—she’s the only person who should be doing this if I can’t.

And I can’t. Not yet.