The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (19 page)

At first, Georgia thought Blackie was being overdramatic. Really, who would kill Rebel's German Shepherd just to get to her?

Then she thought about everything Wade had told her about her brothers and cousins and the things they'd all done. Any of them—especially Blackie—could have enemies out there just waiting for an opportunity to strike. And Gypsy
had
been kidnapped from the very same apartment right behind Frank and Rose's backs.

Maybe Blackie was right.

Actually, on second thought, he was definitely right.

When Georgia was in better shape, she could've held her own against an attacker until help showed up.

But the condition she was in now was a different story.

Until she was healthier, there was no way she'd be able to take care of herself in that kind of situation.

As much as she hated to admit it, Blackie was right. “Before I agree to stay with you,” she told him, “will you promise me something."

Blackie looked relieved by her simple request and nodded. “If I can."

"Don't try and control me, Blackie, please. Tease me, pick on me, yell at me when I piss you off. But don't tell me what to do."

The two of them stared at each other until Blackie nodded again. “I'll do my best."

That was about all she was going to get out of him. But she could live with it. Georgia mentally patted herself on the back for standing her ground.
It's a small victory, but I'll take it.

"You can have all the freedom you want, Georgia,” Angel said from behind her. “Our house is your house. We want you to feel at home there."

Georgia thanked her sister-in-law, all the while praying that living with her and Blackie would work out. With Judd, Dusty, and Jay living in Rebel and Gypsy's basement while their new home was being built, there was nowhere else for Georgia to go.

Silence reigned until Georgia turned back to Blackie. “So what now?"

"I don't know, little girl, you got anything else to say? Any questions?"

"Yeah,” Judd said to Blackie, laughing, “I want to know how it feels to argue with yourself?"

Blackie turned to Judd, who was probably lucky to be standing on the other side of the room. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, asshole?"

Judd shook his head and took a few steps closer to them. “Georgia might look like me and be smart like Rebel,” he said to Blackie, “but when it comes to personality, you two are exactly the same, big brother. You should've heard yourselves going at it a minute ago. I think you finally met your match."

"Shut up, Judd, I wasn't talkin’ to you."

Judd shrugged as he laughed. “I don't care."

Blackie was obviously having a hard time keeping the humor out of his voice when he said, “Well, you should."

"Well, I don't,” Judd said mockingly.

That time, Blackie simply flipped him the bird and turned back to Georgia. “You got anything else to say?"

"Not really,” she told him. “But I'm guessing you do."

"Damn right. I,” he started, then glanced at Judd and Rebel, “no, make that we, have some questions."

She'd known that was coming. Her family was curious about her, and she did owe them an explanation.

When she'd first come to Hagerstown, it was still too painful to even think about the childhood she'd lost. But now, after she'd experienced a little bit of what it felt like to be a part of the McCassey family, Georgia was ready to talk; ready to share a part of her life that she hadn't been willing, or even able, to think much about in the last four years. It had just been too painful.

The commotion behind her as her brother's and sisters-in-law sat down on various pieces of furniture drew her attention.

They were all focused on her, waiting.

As much as it was going to hurt, she needed to share this with the family. She owed them—and herself—that much.

Georgia sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushion. She hugged a pillow to her chest and launched into her story. “I grew up 75 miles southwest of Roanoak, Virginia, in a town of less than one thousand people, called Fort Chiswell,” she began, and for the next hour, her family sat in silence, listening closely as Georgia told them every detail she could remember about her life.

They seemed so caught up in finally getting the answers they'd been waiting to hear, that no one made so much as a sound as she spoke.

"What about your mom, Georgia?” Judd asked when she'd finished her story and had fallen silent. “You didn't even mention her."

She snapped at Judd without meaning to, because she was angry at herself for not being able to come completely clean with her brothers. “I don't want to talk about her!"

"Well that's too goddman bad—” Blackie started, but was cut off when, without taking his eyes off Georgia, Judd put a hand up to Blackie the way Blackie had done to her earlier. Again, surprisingly, he closed his mouth.

"Why not?” Judd wanted to know. “What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid, I just—"

"You just what?"

Georgia couldn't say anything. At first, she hadn't wanted to talk about her mom because the subject was just too personal. The boys didn't know her, and she'd felt as though they were being nosey.

Now that she knew and loved them, some of the similarities between her mother and brothers—Blackie and Judd in particular—was too upsetting to think about.

When Judd said, “Georgia!” this time, it was more of a blunt statement than a question.

Tell them. Tell them so you can get it off your chest and move on. They're grown men, they can make their own decisions, but you owe them an explanation.

She began by telling Judd, “My mom's name was Carolina Morgan."

Then she turned and focused her attention on Blackie. Before saying anything, she reached out and grabbed the pack of cigarettes that were rolled up in his sleeve. “When Dolan took me away,” Georgia yelled, crumpling the pack of Marlboros and throwing them back at him, where they bounced off his chest and landed in his lap, “she was dying from lung cancer!"

To her surprise, Blackie had no reaction to Georgia's outburst. His gaze remained stoic as he stared at her.

"She started smoking when she was twelve years old,” Georgia continued, still focused on Blackie. “How old were you?” she asked him heatedly. “Or you?” she looked over her shoulder and said to Judd.

No one answered her.

Whether that was because they couldn't remember, or simply didn't want to tell her, she didn't know. But what she did know was that all the yelling she was doing felt good.

Releasing the anger she'd been harboring for everything from her mom being sick, to what Dolan did to her, to being confused about her future, felt good.

So she continued. “My mom was nearly a three pack a day smoker when she was diagnosed. That was six months before Dolan took me. She refused to quit smoking because she said it was already too late. ‘No one survives lung cancer, Georgia', she told me, and refused to do anything to help herself.

"I was forced to sit back and watch as she spent day after day sitting on the sofa, puffing on cigarette after cigarette, wasting away to nothing. I know that's why she let Dolan take me. She knew she was dying and had probably convinced herself that he would take care of me."

When Georgia stopped and took a deep breath, she realized that everyone had migrated to her side of the room. Her brothers and sisters-in-law—including Blackie—were standing in front of her, and they were
all
staring in surprise.

"My mom is dead,” she told them bluntly. “There's no way she could've survived more than a few months after I last saw her. Not at the rate she was going. So there, you wanted to know about her, and now you do. She was someone I loved even though there were times when I questioned her love for me; someone who couldn't give up her addiction, and lost her life because of it.

"Now, I love you,” she said, very near tears as she pointed to all three of her brothers, “and I'm going to have to sit back and watch the same thing happen!"

To her surprise, it was Blackie—not the sensitive Judd—who stepped forward, summoning her to him by opening his arms. Because she felt emotionally drained and needed comfort, because she had no fight left in her, she went to him, clinging to her big brother as if
her
life depended on it.

Blackie rested his chin on top of her head as she leaned against his chest. “For bein’ so young, you've been through a hell of a lot, little girl."

Georgia hung on for just another few seconds before trying to back away. Blackie looked at her strangely, but released her. “I don't want your pity, Blackie."

"I ain't pityin’ you, Georgia."

"Yes, you are!”
Wow, all this yelling sure does feel good.
“You were mad as hell at me a little while ago. Now, because I told you about my mom, you feel sorry for me, and that's not what I want!"

Blackie threw his hands in the air, the same as he'd done before. “Then what the fuck
do
you want?"

"I want you to quit smoking!” she blurted out, surprising herself. “All of you,” she added, looking at Judd and Rebel. “I want you to quit before it's too late; before the people that love you have to watch you die!"

Blackie glanced down at the pack of Marlboro's Georgia had crumpled and thrown at him. He looked like he wanted to pick them up, but left them where they lay. “Fine,” he said, although Georgia could've sworn she detected a slight hesitation in his voice. “If you can quit usin’ heroin, I can quit smokin'."

She couldn't believe he was actually going to do it. When Blackie smoked, it looked as though he really enjoyed it. A lot. “Really?"

"Really,” he said with a wink. “I'll probably wind up killin’ someone—most likely you—before it's over, but I'll do it."

Feeling the smile on her face growing, Georgia then turned to Judd and raised her brows in question.

"Hell, I'm in,” he told her. “Reb is, too."

Rebel stepped forward and gave Judd a shove, knocking him into Blackie. “I'm already halfway there, boys. You two assholes have a lot of catching up to do."

Rebel ducked out of the way as both Blackie and Judd took playful swings at him. Then he grabbed Georgia by the shoulders and dragged her in front of him, pretending to use her as a shield. Georgia laughed as her two oldest brothers each took hold of one of her arms and lifted her away from Rebel, depositing her on the sofa. She smiled in anticipation of what was going to happen next, imagining that this is what it would've been like if she and the boys had been closer in age and they'd all grown up together.

Their faces looking much like Georgia imagined her own did, Angel, Dusty, and Gypsy stood on the opposite side of the room, watching the scene out of harm's way.

When Angel cleared her throat loudly, the boys calmed down and maneuvered themselves until they were standing shoulder to shoulder facing her.

It was then that Georgia knew she was in for it.

"Okay, little girl,” Blackie said, breathing a bit heavily, “since we're gonna do somethin’ for you, now you gotta do somethin’ for us."

"I do?"

"Damn right,” Judd said, nodding.

"Like what?"

"Well,” Rebel chimed in, “as you probably know, we've been doing some talking about you behind your back."

"I figured.” Her brothers had been doing that since the day she stepped foot in Hagerstown. She'd resented it at first, but began dealing with it better once she'd realized they were only trying to help. After all, she was the younger sister of three big, badass older brothers. Chances were good that the boys were going to be meddling in her business for the rest of their lives.

"For starters,” Rebel continued, “we think you ought to finish your education."

Her education? “You want me to go back to high school?"

"You can if you want,” Rebel told her. “You look young enough that no one would guess how old you really are. You'd blend with the rest of the kids just fine, if that's what you decide to do."

"I don't know—"

"Your only other option is getting your GED."

It had been so long since Georgia had been in school that she'd nearly forgotten about the fact that she had less than a tenth grade education. She'd just started her sophomore year in high school when Dolan took her. “I could do that, I guess. But what if I can't pass the test?” Because that was a very real possibility; she didn't remember a thing from school.

Rebel grinned mischievously, telling her that someone in the room wasn't going to like what he was about to say. “No problem, we'll just get you some study partners."

"Study partners?"

Rebel stepped to the side and shoved his way in between Judd and Blackie. “Uh-huh.” He grinned, then said, “Study partner one,” as he placed his right hand on top of Judd's head. “And study partner two,” as he placed the other one on top of Blackie's.

Blackie reached up and removed Rebel's hand, then took a step back. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Rebel?"

"Yeah,” Judd said bitterly. “I'd like to know that, too."

"Neither one of them graduated from high school, either,” Rebel explained to Georgia, ignoring his brothers. “In fact,” he added with an evil grin, “I'm not sure Blackie even went."

In one quick motion, Blackie brought his right arm forward and slammed his elbow into Rebel's stomach. “I finished half the ninth grade, asshole."

Rebel, who'd obviously been expecting the attack, must've tightened his stomach muscles because his voice was normal when he spoke. “Sorry,” he said sarcastically, “my mistake."

"You're out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I'm goin’ back to school, little brother."

"You don't have to go to school to get your GED, Blackie,” Georgia said, adding her two cents.

He shot her a dirty look. “Shut up, little girl, you ain't helpin'."

It was fun seeing her oldest brother in the hot seat, and Georgia giggled.

"Forget it, Reb, I ain't doin’ it."

Rebel shrugged. “Suit yourself. Judd?” he asked the brother he thought might at least consider the idea, “what about you?"

Georgia watched Judd as he glanced over at Dusty, suddenly remembering that Dusty hadn't finished high school, either. According to the story she'd heard, Dusty was only a couple months into her senior year when she left town.