Club Justice (24 page)

“The kid’s always been a Brawer as far as the family is concerned. How’s Ginny holding up?”

His words broke the tension, guys muttering their surprise and glancing at their brothers for reactions.

“She’s taking it well. We had a little go around with Flo tonight, but Gin handled it. She’s always loved the big ox like he was hers,” Zeke said with a shrug. “I think it’s more of a shock for Mox and I.”

“You okay, kid?” Bowie asked.

Mox nodded, not sure what to say. Tracing the table’s beveled edge with a thumbnail, he could feel the weight of morbid curiosity. His life was like a damn car wreck, no one could look away.  

“The ox looks more like you than pretty boy here,” Reaper said, yanking a lock of Rhys’ hair.

“God knows no one has ever labeled my mug pretty.” Zeke agreed. “Rhys got those looks from his momma’s side. Mox is just shit outa luck.”

“Guess you’re glad it’s a boy, you’d make one ugly chick.”  

“Ain’t that the damn truth?”

“Explains why he doesn’t look a damn thing like Miles.”

“Too bad you can’t ditch the bitch along with that whiney little bastard,” Reaper muttered, flicking ashes at Mox.

Mox watched a coarse arm hair wither under a live ember, the singe tainting his nostrils as he avoided Reaper’s eyes. The dumb ass would never understand how much he wished that were possible. 

“You would think we could at least play a game that doesn’t involve slaughtering your mother with automatic weapons,” Ginny said, tossing the controller down on the couch beside her youngest.

“You really suck at this.”

“Thanks for confirming that.”

“You’re welcome.”

His laugh was muffled by a throw pillow smacking him in the face. The move sparked a raucous pillow fight that had the family room looking like a warzone when the other three Brawers came home. Using her brawny husband for cover, Ginny launched one last fringed missile, pumping her fist in victory when it caught her distracted son square.

A single look from Zeke prevented retaliation and graciously accepting defeat, Garrett started picking up the strewn ammunition. Stealing a quick kiss from Zeke, a breathless Ginny snatched up a bolster pillow from his feet to help her son set the room back to rights.

“So, this is what you two do when we have a club meeting,” Zeke said with an arched brow.

“You guys can’t have all the fun,” Ginny said with a dismissive sniff.

  “Uh huh. I slaved over dinner. What’d you make for dessert?”

“There are three or four different kinds of ice-cream in the freezer and enough toppings for a sundae bar. Go wild.”

“You out did yourself.”

“I do try.”

Chuckling, Zeke caught her in a headlock, dragging her to the kitchen with three starving boys close behind. Straddling a barstool, he reached into the overhead cabinets for bowls while she dug out the fixings.  

“Spoons, ice-cream, bananas,” he assigned, stabbing a finger at each boy.

“You know if we’d had a few more, we wouldn’t have to do anything at all in our old age,” Ginny said over her shoulder.

“They’re all boys. They’ll each marry and bring you a daughter, giving us six for the price of three.”

“Becca will be a great comfort to you in your old age, Ma,” Rhys said, tripping over Gunny as he made a jesting dive for the back door.

“If you ever marry that skank, you can keep on running,” Ginny said over the laughter.

******

The moonlight outlined the affluent brick home and landscaped lawn. Laughter spilled through open windows like the inhabitants had not a worry.  Brawer was living the good life. It was almost unfathomable that someone who had clawed his way out of the shit pile to get where he was could be so careless with it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The town’s people’s hushed whispers and furtive glances were even more apparent in her mother’s stony silence. Keeping her head high, and temper in check, Ginny escorted Lillian through the grocery store. She hadn’t taken the news well, her venomous defamation of Zeke’s character serving to further strain the civility between mother and daughter. Heat scalded Ginny’s cheeks as the butcher avoided her nod of greeting, escaping through swinging doors. Her mother’s glare blazed with accusation. Disapproval pinched a lined face already pink with embarrassment. Drawing a steadying breath, Ginny was reminded of the ripple effect. The theory never seemed truer. Obviously, everyone had a right to be upset with Zeke’s indiscretions and the hell with her feelings.    

“Take me home.”

“We’re almost done here, Mom.”

“How can you stand there like nothing’s changed? Have you no shame?”

“How did you walk through town all those years knowing daddy was an abusive piece of shit? Don’t get holier than thou on me, Mom. I don’t need it,” Ginny ground out between clenched teeth.

“It is hardly the same thing, Virginia.”

“No, Mom, it’s not. The only one Zeke hurt is me, and he broke my trust not bones.”

“You think this isn’t humiliating for Rhys and Garrett?”

“You know as well as I do there is a double standard when it comes to men keeping it in their pants. They already knew their father wasn’t perfect. They will get over it.”  

  “I can’t believe you are being so cavalier about your husband sleeping with the town whore!”

“He’s hardly the first husband to sleep with the town whore … hence the town whore label and why don’t you say it a little louder in case anyone has missed it.”

“Why hide it? Obviously you know no shame or you wouldn’t be parading through town like nothing has happened.”

“What do you want me to do, Mom? Hole up in the house and hide my face in shame like you did every time daddy blackened your eye? I’m made of sterner stuff.”  

“Everyone is talking about you.”

“Let them talk. If they’re talking about me, they’re leaving someone else alone. Honestly, Mom, I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. This is between Zeke and me. It is none of their damn business!”

“Nothing good has ever come out of your relationship with him. A divorce would just be the icing on the cake, Virginia.”

“Versus what, Mom, flambéing him?” 

Ginny saw the slap coming and didn’t care.

Zeke eyeballed the nearly spent bottle of wine on the counter as he stepped up behind his wife at the stove. She silently saluted him with the goblet in her hand, continuing to stir the sauce. Her hair, twisted up in a haphazard knot, left the column of her neck bare. He nuzzled softly. She didn’t ask if he knew. He didn’t tell her that he did. They just stood together as the Alfredo slowly thickened, drawing strength and comfort from the other.

Dinner was reserved by Brawer standards, Ginny’s run-in with her mother the pink elephant no one wanted to mention. Afterward, the boys back in their man cave and dishes cleared, Ginny opened another bottle of wine. Zeke accepted a proffered goblet and followed her to the comfort of their living room. Arm stretched along the back of the couch, he rubbed at her nape.

“I’m sorry.”

His words hung between them, simple and true, a peace offering. Minutes passed before the softest whisper reached his ears.

“I know.”

“As fucked up and unfair as it is, this is hardest for you. It’s not right that people judge the way they do. It’s screwed that women catch the blame either way.”

“I know.”

“I wish that I…”

His voice cracked.

She didn’t know if he wanted to say ‘Could take it back.’ ‘Knew how to make it right.’ or ‘Could make it better.’ It really didn’t matter. Her whisper was the same.

“I know.”

He turned toward her on the couch, his face twisted with guilt and pain. Pressing her finger to his lips, she shook her head. Leaning forward, she let her forehead replace her finger. She closed her eyes as the strength of his arms enfolded her. It was all he could do. It was all she wanted.

******

He tossed back the last of a glass of wine, a smug smile slanting his thin lips. Closing his eyes, he could picture the look of disbelief, pain, and anger that would’ve flashed across Ginny Brawer’s face as her mother’s palm connected. She was a fighter, but the blows were piling up. It was a small town. There were no secrets. The peasants were enjoying the queen’s freefall. The visible cracks in her marriage had to be frightening and humiliating.

He turned the glass in his hand, tracing a faint fissure near the rim, a blemish in the perfection. The crystal flute reminded him of her. Strong and beautiful, and yet weakening. His hand tightened around the glass, stressing the flawed crystal until it shattered. The lines were showing. It wouldn’t take much more to break her. 

******

Ginny leaned her forehead against the locked door, twirling the useless keys around a finger.

“She was very insistent, Mrs. Brawer. I’m sorry,” the manager said behind her. The girl at the front desk had obviously alerted the woman the moment Ginny had walked in.

“That’s okay. Could you just do me a favor and see that she gets these groceries?”

“Of course I will, and I’m sure that Lillian will calm down and rethink things in a day or two.”

The relief in the woman’s voice was almost comical. Obviously, she had heard the story and the last thing she wanted was a scene.

Shaking her head, Ginny headed for the car. Truth be known, a good, stiff drink sounded like heaven, but her head was still aching from the previous night’s wine. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she slid behind the wheel. More than anything, she wished she and Zeke could get away for a week or two. If they could just get out of town maybe shit would blow over and life would return to normal. Normal? Hell, she wasn’t even sure what that was anymore.

Her head throbbed. Leaning back in the seat, she tried to pull her shit together. Zeke’s jumpiness the other morning nagged at her. He was stressed, hiding something from her, protecting her. The last thing he needed was the damsel in distress routine. Men made mistakes when they were preoccupied. He’d never gone for the clingy type. Things had been a little crazy lately, but he had always counted on her to be strong and self-reliant. It was time to pull up her panties and be the woman he needed.

Leaning in the doorway, Zeke watched her sleep. It wasn’t like Gin to nap in the middle of the day. Even in the repose of sleep, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. He was glad she had the spa weekend planned with the girls in a couple weeks. She needed to relax and get away from Trinity’s bullshit and aggravation. The fact that he had brought the bullshit on wasn’t lost on him, but there was little he could do to shield her from this.

Stepping into the kitchen, he scanned the refrigerator for her dinner plans. Tossing pork chops on the counter, he raked a hand through his hair.

“Where’s ma? Are we roughing it?” Rhys asked coming in.

“Keep your voice down. She’s sleeping. What do you want with pork chops?”

“Uh … mashed potatoes?”

Zeke nodded and pulled the spuds from the bin letting the bag swing into his son’s gut.

“Start peeling.”

Perusing the packed shelves in the walk-in pantry, Zeke grabbed several cans of green beans.

“Think quick,” he grunted to a passing Mox.

Mox juggled the cans, making it to the counter with the load.

“Where’s Gin?”

“Ma’s sleeping,” Rhys supplied.

“Is she sick?”

“I don’t think so.”

Rhys looked to Zeke for reassurance.

“Nah, just a rough night. You get the beans on and I’ll light the grill for the pork chops.”

“You think she’s okay?” Mox asked softly after Zeke disappeared onto the patio.

“Sure. I think she’s just worn out with all the shit going on. You know how ma is. She always tries to take everything on herself.”

Mox nodded, doctoring the beans with bacon and onion like he’d seen Ginny do.

“I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Rhys stopped peeling at the misery in Mox’s voice.

“Bro, we know that. It’s not your fault. None of this shit is your fault. Dad’s the one that went there.”

“Every time Gin looks at me…”

“It’s not like that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well I do,” Ginny said from the doorway.

Mox blushed, busying himself with stirring the beans. He tensed at her touch, but couldn’t resist the light pull. Cupping his face, she forced his gaze to hers.

“I’ve never loved you more. Don’t you doubt that for a minute.”

Her smile made his heart swell.

“I love ya, Gin,” he whispered, hugging her tight.

“I know, baby. I love you too.”

“Which one of you dumbasses woke her up?” Zeke groused coming in the back door.

“The can opener woke me up, grouch ass.” Ginny giggled, stepping over to snuggle into her husband’s arms.

“I’ll smack you for that one later,” Zeke grumbled at Mox who threw his hands up in innocence.

“Thank you for starting dinner. My men are spoiling me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Always the tough guy,” Ginny said, kissing him softly.

“Rough day?”

“I’m still nursing a hangover. I must be turning into a light weight in my old age,” Ginny snorted.

Knowing his wife, Zeke dropped it and let her shoo the boys out of her kitchen. Straddling a stool, he watched her effortless movements, thinking her as beautiful as ever.

“How’s Murphy settling in?”

“Eh, you know. One squad room’s the same as another. Learning the city will take a lot more time, but in this day and age with freaking GPS right in your damn phone, even that isn’t as big a deal.”

Ginny nodded, staring unseeing at the stove.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I shouldn’t let it get to me.”

“Maybe not, but it obviously is.”

“I took mom’s groceries over to her today. She wouldn’t answer the door. She had the locks changed.”

“Stop paying the bills and the old bat will answer the door.”

Ginny laughed.

“I needed that.”