A Sinclair Homecoming. Kimberly Van Meter

Better for him, anyway. We have bigger problems and Dad’s booming drug business isn’t one of them.”

      Wade exhaled in irritation. Trace wasn’t one to exaggerate but surely it couldn’t be as bad as everyone was making it out to be. Seemed everyone was running around being Chicken Little. So the house was a mess. They’d clean it and set things to right. Shouldn’t be a case for so much hand-wringing. He checked his watch. “After we see Mom, drop me off at the house and I’ll pick up Mom’s car to use while I’m here. No sense renting a car when there’s one sitting in the driveway.”

      “Fine. But don’t try to go into the house at night.”

      “And why is that?” he asked, irritated. “Is the boogeyman going to jump out from underneath the sofa?”

      “No, smart-ass, you might trip and cause an avalanche and then we’ll have two family members in the hospital. I know you don’t believe me but you will when you see the house.”

      Trace was right; Wade didn’t believe him. The house couldn’t be that bad. He grew up in that house. There was no way his mother had turned into the kind of person who hoarded to a dangerous level. The idea—well, the idea was too much for him to imagine or accept.

      “Just so I know...am I going to get the cold shoulder the entire time I’m here?” he asked Trace.

      “Depends. Are you going to start being part of the solution or part of the problem?”

      “What are you talking about? I’m here, aren’t I?”

      “Because our mother had a heart attack. Tell me if she hadn’t, that you would be here like we asked you to be.”

      He couldn’t rightly say that and Trace knew it. “Some of us have lives that we can’t just drop because something is going on at home.”

      “Don’t start acting like your job is superior to everyone else’s. We all have personal lives that are being disrupted by the current situation. You haven’t cornered the market on being inconvenienced.”

      “That’s a pretty big glass house you’re standing in, don’t you think?” Wade said. “Seems to me you’re being a bit of a hypocrite.”

      “I’ve already made amends and apologies for my actions. How about you? Besides, me and Miranda are square. I can’t say the same for you. I was a dick for leaving her holding the bag with our parents and I own that. It’s time for you to pony up, too.”

      “Don’t lecture me, little brother. I’m in no mood.”

      “Well, step up and I won’t have to. Did it occur to you that I need my big brother? Yeah...well, I was counting on your support. Imagine my surprise when I was flatly denied. Didn’t feel good.”

      “Are you finished crying? Jeez, Trace, when did you turn into such a girl?”

      “Screw you, Wade. When did you turn into such a prick?”

      A nurse shushed them with a warning look when their voices threatened to get louder. Trace buttoned up but looked filled with the need to say a whole lot more. Thank God for small favors. Wade’s head was splitting from a long flight seated next to a crying kid and he was ready for a beer and bed. “Can we just get this over with? It’s been a long day.”

      Trace nodded and they walked into their mother’s room. Wade stared. Wires and tubes flowed in and out of his mother, while electronics monitored her every function. A bubble of fear rose in his throat at the realization that his mother could’ve truly died. Intellectually, he knew that as he grew older, so did his parents but in his mind, his parents were the same as they ever were. He was wrong.

      “Mama.” The word slipped from his mouth in a worried whisper, echoing the shock of seeing her so diminished and frail.

      Her eyelids fluttered open and she focused on her sons. It took a moment for her to realize it was her oldest son before a wan but happy smile followed. “W-Wade?” She lifted her hand and motioned for him to come closer.

      Wade forced a smile past his frozen lips and approached her bedside to hold her hand gingerly. “Hey there, Mama...what kind of trouble are you up to that I had to come all the way home?” he teased as he bent to kiss her cheek.

      “My beautiful boy is home,” Jennelle murmured, tears leaking from her eyes. “It’s been too long, son.”

      The mild admonishment landed like a pair of cement boots and he had to force himself not to get defensive. “Not from choice, Mama,” he lied. “But I’m here now so let’s focus on that, okay?”

      She smiled and weakly squeezed his hand. “Absolutely. My boy is home. That’s all that matters.”

      In spite of being irritated as hell at Trace, he winced at their mother’s exclusion of her other son. She must be pissed because she wouldn’t even glance Trace’s way. And if there was any confusion as to just how she felt, Jennelle clarified by saying to Trace, “You can go, now. I’d like to speak with the one child who hasn’t betrayed me.”

      “Ahhh, c’mon, Mom,” Trace groaned, slapping his hand on his thigh. “Don’t start that crap again.”

      She closed her eyes. “Make him go away, Wade.”

      Wade sighed, caught in a bad spot. He looked to Trace, beseeching him to give them a few minutes, and Trace muttered something unflattering under his breath but ducked out.

      Once they were alone, Wade said, “Mama, aren’t you being a bit harsh? You know Trace and Miranda are worried about you.”

      “Judases, the both of them,” Jennelle said. “Kicked me out of my own home. Never thought I’d see the day when my own flesh and blood turned on me like that.” A tear appeared at the corner of her eye, and Wade wiped it away gently. She smiled gratefully. “I know you’d never do something like that. You and Simone were always the ones who were on my side. No matter what.”

      He bit his tongue. He loved his mother dearly but she had a habit of being manipulative when it served her. Apparently, that hadn’t changed. “Mama, tell me about what Adult Protective Services said. I don’t understand how they could kick you from your home if there wasn’t cause.”

      She withdrew her hand and shook her head, bewildered. “I don’t know. It had to be Miranda’s influence. She’s so tight with those government types. She’s been on a crusade to oust me from my home for months and she finally accomplished it!” Jennelle gasped, wincing with pain, and Wade knew he’d have to see for himself what was going on.

      “It’s okay, Mama...we’ll get this figured out. I promise.”

      “Bless you, son,” she said, her eyes watering. “I feel so much better knowing you’re home. I’ve been so alone. Being attacked by your own children will do that to you.”

      Wade didn’t believe that Trace and Miranda had deliberately ousted their mother, which meant there had to be more to the story than Jennelle was sharing. However, as weak as she was, now was not the time to drag it out of her.

      He smiled and patted Jennelle’s hand gently. “I want you to rest. Trace is going to take me to the house and I’m going to pick up your car to drive while I’m in town. Is that okay with you?”

      “Of course, honey. No sense in spending good money if you don’t have to. That’s my frugal boy.” Her voice hardened. “But don’t you let either of those turncoats into my house. Do you hear me?”

      “Yes, Mama. I hear you. Now you rest. You hear me?”

      Her eyelids closed on a relieved sigh, and Wade left the room to find Trace. He found Trace and Miranda talking with another woman in the lobby.

      Miranda saw him first and motioned for him to join them. “Wade, perfect timing. This is Morgan O’Hare. She’s been assigned Mom’s case through Adult Protective Services.”

      He frowned, his gaze snagging on the