“I’m—”
“Sorry, I know,” he says, cutting me off. “You say that a lot, kid.”
I shrug and he grins, leaning down and resting his cheek on the top of my head. I never felt as small as I do when I’m this close to him and it makes me feel as safe as it does weird.
“So, Huck?” I ask as he relaxes his body against the couch.
“Hm?”
“What else did you and Momma do as kids? She never really talked about being little much—not that I ever listened if she did,” I say with a sheepish laugh.
“Nothing really,” he beings, pausing a moment to stifle a yawn with his fist, “School, chores, being the perfect son and daughter to the perfect parents, I guess.”
I pull away from him a little and narrow my eyes at him. Grandma and Grandpa were far from the perfect parents he’s claiming them to be. I remember them being bitter and mean to damn near everyone including themselves and I also remember that no one really shed a tear when they died.
“You’re lying,” I say accusingly.
Uncle Huck grunts and gives me a stern look. “Let’s not start that again, please.”
I put my hands on his side and give him a firm push away from me. It takes some doing because he’s trying to hold onto me, but I finally get out of his grip and get to my feet.
“I’m not saying that for any other reason than me remembering how miserable those two were. The last time I saw them was the same time I saw you—at my fifth birthday party and they didn’t give me anything but the evil eye.”
Uncle Huck looks up at me and begins to chew on his lower lip thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure that’s all they ever gave anyone, Maddi,” he finally says with an eye roll. “But I would appreciate if you stopped calling me a liar, please. I don’t like being belittled—it makes me angry.”
I arch an eyebrow curiously.
“Is that what she would do to you?” I ask him, my tone softening.
He grunts and turns his eyes back toward the television, clasping his hands behind his head, he drops his feet off the table and begins to rock one of his legs back and forth.
Just like Momma when she’s trying not to lose her shit.
“Huck,” I begin gently as I sit back down on the couch next to him. I place a hand on his leg to steady him, and take a deep breath, “tell me what happened.”
He runs a large hand over his face, takes a deep breath before turning to face me.
“Brianna’s dead.”
Chapter Six
I sit back and look at him curiously. The way he steals glances at me makes me wonder if he thinks I’m going to run away or suddenly become scared of him, but to be honest, I’m more worried about him smothering me to death watching old movies than anything else.
Besides, he hasn’t told me how she died yet.I probably shouldn’t ask, but …
“How?”
“It was an accident, Maddi,” he says softly. “I … I shot her. Honest to God, I thought she was a thief. I had some break-ins in the barn and some of my equipment had gone missing and I just ran in when I heard noise …”
His voice trails off as he leans forward and puts his face in his hands. He’s not crying—I can tell that much because his shoulders aren’t shaking, and I don’t hear any sniffling.
“Why didn’t you tell someone?” I press softly as I place a hand on his back.
“Because no one would have believed me!” he all but shouts at me. His face is red, he’s damn angry now, and I shrink away from him a little bit. “I threw her to the pigs then buried what they couldn’t finish.”
I clear my throat and listen to his confession, wondering what to do with the information I have now.
I won’t turn him in because I remember Aunt Brianna being very unkind to him at my party. I never liked her really, but the way she belittled him put a sour taste in my mouth toward her at a young age and I always made it a point to keep away from her after that.