She downs the drink in one swallow, as do I.
Silence settles as I refill our glasses. While sipping my drink I notice she’s watching me over the rim of her tumbler, and I sigh at the odd discomfort between us. That’s not something we’ve ever felt. The comfort level I feel with her is what’s always made her so special. I want her to feel comfortable here, and although today got off to a bad start I attempt to offer a truce. “Tell me about your brother,” I say gently, easing us back into our long talks which have always been easy.
She lowers her glass to the countertop looking very guarded. “Why?”
“You’ve never talked about him before.” I lean against the cabinet, putting some distance between us, letting her breathe. “Or even mentioned that you have a brother.”
“That’s because he’s a part of my life that I don’t want to share.” She moves around to the side of the island and slides onto the black leather stool, her hands hugging her glass. “He’s a lot of trouble for me.”
I swirl the whiskey in the glass, the ice clanging, then take a sip. “Why is he your trouble?”
“He’s younger.”
I raise my brows at that little revelation. “You’re only twenty-six, so how young is he?”
“Twenty-three.”
“He’s still a grown man, so again, why is he your trouble?”
“Because he just is.” She shrugs before taking another long sip then staring down at her glass. “I’ve always kept an eye on him, helped him out when I could.”
Not surprising. That’s the McKenna I know. Which only makes me more ashamed that I doubted her loyalty and her character. Weight presses against my chest as I ask, “Where’s your mother in all this, or your father for that matter?” I take another sip, further ashamed I don’t know these things about her.
“We don’t have parents.”
I swallow the whiskey then frown at her. “You’ve never had parents in your life?”
“I once had a mother in my life, but I never knew my father.” She finally looks at me. The strength in her gaze is what’s always endeared McKenna to me. It’s a real honest beauty, and it’s shining bright as she adds, “My mother was an alcoholic, a violent one.”
“Now that’s quite the contradiction since you work at a bar.” I can’t help but point out.
She gives a small but important smile. “Once I heard that it’s always best not to run from the Devil, but face him straight on; so that’s what I do every day. I drink and work in the belly of the beast, so to speak, to ensure I can’t be controlled by those things . . . so I don’t fear them.”
I part my lips to respond but shut them, amazed by her. Christ, I’m stunned by her. When I see that she’s nervously awaiting a response from me, I force one and smile. “A good motto to have, I’m sure.”
She nods and then takes another quick sip of her whiskey before adding, “Anyways, like I said, I did have a mother for a short time. When I was six years old, my grandmother came to visit us in Nashville—that’s where I was born—and she saw the conditions we were living in, and well, she took us with her that day.”
The thought of a little McKenna being mistreated tightens my hand around the glass. Knowing her history takes all the anger I felt toward her earlier and places it onto myself. She’s been through so much. “Your grandmother sounds like she was a good woman. I take it since you haven’t mentioned her before, she’s passed on?”
McKenna nods and sighs heavily. “Gran was the most amazing woman in life and even in death. When she died, she left us the house, her money, and because of her, she gave us a way better life.”
All of this makes me dislike her brother more. “Do you still see your mother?”
She shakes her head, swallowing her drink. “She died.”
“When?”
“Three months after Gran brought us to San Francisco.”
I’m fighting against reaching out to comfort her. But I realize in the injustice of it all, I’ve been another person in McKenna’s life who’s hurt and disappointed her. And now her words to me in the bar make total sense: What have I ever done to deserve to be shit on all the time? I’ve done what every other person in her life has done to her, and I hate myself for that. “I’m so very sorry to hear that she passed.”
“There’s no need for you to be sorry,” McKenna says without coldness or warmth, just matter of fact. “It’s for the better, to be honest. My mother would have affected our lives for years if she’d been around. Her death was our freedom.”
I squeeze my glass harder, stopping the shaking of my hands. Nonetheless, I regard a woman who’s unjaded, even if I think she’s entitled to be. “So, then, I take it your brother didn’t follow you on the straight and narrow path?”
She takes another sip then gives a dry laugh. “Not exactly. Back in high school, he got in with the wrong crowd, no matter how hard I tried to keep him out of it. Once he discovered how to earn money illegally, the legal path didn’t seem so interesting anymore.” She finishes her drink and waves me off when I motion for more. “Deep down, Evan’s a good guy, but a couple years ago he got into gambling. And well, like I’ve told you, addiction runs high in our family.”
“So, you do suspect this is all about money?”