Declan was devastated when he was called with the news of what happened. When he rushed home and saw for himself that Maisy and I were okay, that devastation turned to rage. What surprised me was Judge’s decision to let Declan know what he and his brothers planned for Sierra. Even more surprising was that he told him everything. He explained the history of Malus, what it used to be, the quest to kill the adults who escaped Sweet Haven, their vigilante acts against other like-minded criminals, and Malus’s justice system. But what surprised me the most was Declan’s easy acceptance of everything. The news was shocking, sure, but he was on board from the beginning.
“Where are y’all headed off to?” Declan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Maisy answers before Judge and I can.
“We’re going to see Uncle Emo. I’ve got a surprise for him.”
He smiles down at his niece, his eyes full of love. “I’m sure he’ll really enjoy that.”
I almost snort out a laugh. Emo doesn’t enjoy anything. Or rather, he doesn’t show his enjoyment. Declan doesn’t know that yet. He still hasn’t met him.
“I’ve got dinner covered for tonight,” he informs us, grabbing a grocery bag from the back of his car. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Susan over.”
Judge tips his chin down. “Sure.”
I still get excited thinking about Declan with Susan. Things seem to be working out well for them.
We talk for a few more minutes before piling into Judge’s car. The drive is short and Maisy chatters nonstop. Her excitement is palpable and an utter joy to witness.
When we pull up to Emo’s house a few minutes later, she’s nearly bouncing in her seat, a big smile stretching across her face. As soon as the car is off, she’s unbuckling her seat belt and grabbing for the door handle. Judge and I meet her in front of the car.
Grace, who was out of town and came home a couple of days ago when she heard Emo was shot, opens the door as we’re walking up the steps. She’s gorgeous, with shoulder-length blonde hair and eyes so light blue they almost look clear. Judge informed me that she’ll be Maisy’s teacher when school starts.
It’s quite apparent the woman cares deeply for Emo—I could see it in the distraught look in her eyes the day she arrived at his house while we were visiting.
“Hey,” she greets, her smile genuine.
&n
bsp; “How is he today?” Judge asks.
One side of her mouth quirks up. “Still stubborn, refusing to stay still for long. Grumpy because I won’t let him do anything.”
“Figures,” he grumbles, shaking his head.
Grace’s eyes drop to an impatient Maisy. “I bet he’ll be happy to see you though.”
Maisy grins, her face radiant at the prospect of Emo being happy to see her.
She turns and leads us into the house. Maisy immediately spots Emo’s stiff form on the couch, legs outstretched, with his hands on his thighs. One hand is fisted, and he stuffs it into his pocket, pulling it out a moment later and relaxing it back on his thigh.
Maisy rushes over to him, stopping before she bumps into his knees. His expression is blank, but I see the twitch of his eyebrow, belying a hidden emotion.
“Hi, Uncle Emo.”
The insides of every person in the room melt at her softly spoken words and the adoring way she looks at him.
“Hello,” he answers gruffly.
Maisy sits down beside him, careful to not jostle the couch, bringing her backpack to her lap and unzipping it. She pulls out a box about the size of a shoe box and hands it to him.
He looks down at it for a moment, his brows dipping into a frown, before gazing back at her.
“What is it?”
She smiles. “Open it and you’ll see. I made it for you.”
His hesitation is only seconds long before he pulls the lid off. Confusion deepens his frown as he stares at the contents.