Only for Us by Cristin Harber Page B

from embarrassment. Cherry presses her fingers over her mouth, trying to hide any reaction that’s not part of her confusion and concern.
    But Gray doesn’t miss a beat. “Bet I could handle the monkey bars, Miss Cally Kingsley.”
    “Bwing him?” She eyes me, urging me on like a little girl playing matchmaker. “And da swings, too.”
    “Maybe she’ll bring me one day.”
    “Today? Pwease.”
    He shakes his head. “Probably not today.”
    “Okay.” Cally jumps up, finished with her investigation and invitation. “Weddy for da pwark, Aunt Chwerry!” A second later, she’s off to the kitchen. I’ve childproofed everything in there except for her special drawer, which is filled with things like juice boxes and coloring books.
    Before Cherry can get a word out, I shake my head and cut her off. “Cherry. Chill.”
    Her long, cold stare ruins the moment. “Ryan know about this?”
    I assume that Grayson hasn’t informed my brother he is alive and in town. Because if he had, I would have heard about it; there would’ve been a fistfight in my front yard—the soldier versus the cop.
    “Prick.” Cherry’s eyes narrow at Grayson. “So, you’re alive. Got it. That just reminds me you’re a son of a bitch.”
    “Stop.” I’m losing all the warm fuzzies from moments before.
    “No way.” My sister the ice queen cocks her hip and rests her hand on it. “When I thought you died, I felt awful for them. I hurt for my baby sister and her daughter. Maybe even for you since you missed out on this—”
    “Maybe”—he pulls closer to me, an unsaid challenge to Cherry to back off—“that’s what I’m here to make up for.” His voice is deep and authoritative.
    The tension compounds. I hate conflict already, and this antagonism is so deep that I don’t even know how to describe it. “Please let it be. I need to go talk to Cally.”
    “She’ll be fine. We didn’t see anything other than Grayson’s not having his damn shirt on.”
    “I’m her mother. I’ll judge how she is.” God, I want to strangle Cherry right now. “You know what? You have no right to act like this.”
    “I have no right? I pull shifts so you can work and go to school. We all do. You sleep—what? Like, three hours a night? You are killing yourself, and he just waltzes in, and you spread—”
    “Don’t finish that.” Grayson stands, stepping in front of me, a protective growl coming from him. “You’ll regret it. There’s enough fucking regret standing in this room. We don't need any more of it.”
    I stand behind him, my palms flat on his back. “Gray…”
    Cherry’s eyes drop to the wound at his side then back up again. “You ruined her life.”
    My frustration multiplies, and I expect better from her than to pull that. “Nothing about my life is ruined. It has its hiccups, it certainly isn’t what I planned, but it’s mine, and I love it.”
    Her brow pinches. “Em—”
    “I get to say if my life’s been ruined,” I hiss. Then I look over my shoulder as Cally clangs and bangs a few feet away, singing about her water bottle and a milk box from her Cally-drawer. I don’t know how to ensure that permanent damage hasn’t been done, but I’m positive that the anger rolling in the room is bad for my girl. “Look—enough. None of this is a conversation for right now. Cally can stay home with me, and Grayson, you can go. You too, Cherry.”
    The singing comes closer as Cally wanders back into the room, all her attention on her hands as she tries unsuccessfully to tear into her milk box with her doll and a water bottle tucked under her arms. “My milk’s not listening.”
    “Snugglebug, why don’t you stay home with me. Cherry and Grayson were just leaving.” I take the box and pop the straw into it, handing it back after she has propped her doll on the couch with the water.
    Sudden tears spring in her eyes. “I wanna go to the pwark. Aunt Chwerry pwomised.”
    Shit, shoot, shit . I don’t know what to do