over the sizzling grill, flipping burgers.
âNo one else was exactly jumping to volunteer,â she explained. Again.
âWell, go figure.â Her sister cocked her head and rolled her eyes.
âLaurel,â Caleb chided, clearly disapproving of her sarcastic tone. He sent Briar a sympathetic look as he took a long pull on his beer.
Her brother-Âin-Âlaw was a saint. A truly gentle man who loved her sister and worked hard, putting in long hours of overtime to provide well for Laurel and the kids. Everything he did, he did for them. In looking for a life partner, Laurelâs goal had been simple. Find the polar opposite of their father. She had succeeded in that.
âWhat?â Laurel blinked her big eyes. âAm I not supposed to say anything when my baby sister puts herself in a dangerous situation?â
Caleb sent Briar a look that said: Score one for big sister.
Briar bit back the thought breezing through her mind. You had no problem leaving me alone with Dad. You got out as fast as you could . Of course, she wouldnât say that. Laurel had left home and married Caleb as soon as she graduated. Briar had been fourteen. She had four more years of Mom and Dad without Laurel for company. The fighting. The tears. The slaps she wasnât supposed to hear. No, she couldnât blame Laurel for getting out of that house as soon as she could. If the situation had been reversed, she would have probably done the same.
âLaurel, itâs one day a week.â Briar wasnât about to tell her she had gone twice last week. âAnd Iâm in the infirmary. With a guard and cameras and a panic button. Itâs not like Iâm walking the cell blocks.â
Laurel snorted and rubbed circles over the babyâs back, clearly unconvinced.
âAnd the inmates we see are usually sick, you know,â Briar added. âThey just want relief. Theyâre not inclined to bite the hand offering to help them.â
Laurel shook her head, her short red curls tossing around her. âI donât like it.â
âHave you talked to Mom?â Briar asked, deciding to change the subject before she became truly annoyed.
Laurel stood, propping the baby on her hip. âNot lately. But weâre supposed to have lunch next week. Iâm going in to get the potato salad.â
She disappeared inside the house, sliding the glass door shut behind her.
âThatâs one way to get her to stop talking,â Caleb said as he placed burgers in a square tin.
She smiled at him. âNever fails. Bring up Mom.â
âOr your father.â
Briarâs smile slipped. Even she didnât talk about him. She maintained a superficial relationship with her mother. Phone calls. Texts. Occasionally they met for a meal. Not Dad. Never Dad. If she was lucky, she wouldnât have to see him ever again.
âLaurel is worried about you, Briar. And sheâs questioning your motives for working at the prison. I canât say I havenât been wondering myself.â
Briar stared at him for a long moment. âLike what? That Iâm attracted to violent men? Iâm drawn to them and want to be around them?â Her stomach turned at the notion. Laurel hadnât been around in those last years. When her father drank more. When he hit more. Laurel had no idea how bad it really got.
Shaking her head, she stared at her adorable niece and nephew as they clambered up the faux rock wall of the play set and slid down the slide with happy squeals. A pang punched her in the chest.
Laurel had built a beautiful life with Caleb and her children. Sheâd turned her back on the past. Moved on. Forgotten itâÂor simply refused to look at it anymore. When was Briar going to do the same? Why wasnât it as easy for her?
âIâm not attracted to violent men, Caleb.â Far from it. Whenever she was in that prison, she could hardly breathe.
Her brother-Âin-Âlaw
âNo one else was exactly jumping to volunteer,â she explained. Again.
âWell, go figure.â Her sister cocked her head and rolled her eyes.
âLaurel,â Caleb chided, clearly disapproving of her sarcastic tone. He sent Briar a sympathetic look as he took a long pull on his beer.
Her brother-Âin-Âlaw was a saint. A truly gentle man who loved her sister and worked hard, putting in long hours of overtime to provide well for Laurel and the kids. Everything he did, he did for them. In looking for a life partner, Laurelâs goal had been simple. Find the polar opposite of their father. She had succeeded in that.
âWhat?â Laurel blinked her big eyes. âAm I not supposed to say anything when my baby sister puts herself in a dangerous situation?â
Caleb sent Briar a look that said: Score one for big sister.
Briar bit back the thought breezing through her mind. You had no problem leaving me alone with Dad. You got out as fast as you could . Of course, she wouldnât say that. Laurel had left home and married Caleb as soon as she graduated. Briar had been fourteen. She had four more years of Mom and Dad without Laurel for company. The fighting. The tears. The slaps she wasnât supposed to hear. No, she couldnât blame Laurel for getting out of that house as soon as she could. If the situation had been reversed, she would have probably done the same.
âLaurel, itâs one day a week.â Briar wasnât about to tell her she had gone twice last week. âAnd Iâm in the infirmary. With a guard and cameras and a panic button. Itâs not like Iâm walking the cell blocks.â
Laurel snorted and rubbed circles over the babyâs back, clearly unconvinced.
âAnd the inmates we see are usually sick, you know,â Briar added. âThey just want relief. Theyâre not inclined to bite the hand offering to help them.â
Laurel shook her head, her short red curls tossing around her. âI donât like it.â
âHave you talked to Mom?â Briar asked, deciding to change the subject before she became truly annoyed.
Laurel stood, propping the baby on her hip. âNot lately. But weâre supposed to have lunch next week. Iâm going in to get the potato salad.â
She disappeared inside the house, sliding the glass door shut behind her.
âThatâs one way to get her to stop talking,â Caleb said as he placed burgers in a square tin.
She smiled at him. âNever fails. Bring up Mom.â
âOr your father.â
Briarâs smile slipped. Even she didnât talk about him. She maintained a superficial relationship with her mother. Phone calls. Texts. Occasionally they met for a meal. Not Dad. Never Dad. If she was lucky, she wouldnât have to see him ever again.
âLaurel is worried about you, Briar. And sheâs questioning your motives for working at the prison. I canât say I havenât been wondering myself.â
Briar stared at him for a long moment. âLike what? That Iâm attracted to violent men? Iâm drawn to them and want to be around them?â Her stomach turned at the notion. Laurel hadnât been around in those last years. When her father drank more. When he hit more. Laurel had no idea how bad it really got.
Shaking her head, she stared at her adorable niece and nephew as they clambered up the faux rock wall of the play set and slid down the slide with happy squeals. A pang punched her in the chest.
Laurel had built a beautiful life with Caleb and her children. Sheâd turned her back on the past. Moved on. Forgotten itâÂor simply refused to look at it anymore. When was Briar going to do the same? Why wasnât it as easy for her?
âIâm not attracted to violent men, Caleb.â Far from it. Whenever she was in that prison, she could hardly breathe.
Her brother-Âin-Âlaw
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