Free The McClane Apocalypse: Book One by Kate Morris Page B

just have to hold my crap together, Reagan. I can’t even consider that Derek won’t come back to us.” She watches in the mirror as Reagan lies back and props a pillow under her head.
    “He’ll come. Derek’s like that. He’s solid, reliable. Hell, he’s just like Grandpa if you think about it,” she muses, picking a stray thread from the blanket on which she’s lying.
    “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Sue teases. Of course she’d thought about it. It had been one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with the man in the first place. “And you’d better not let Grams hear you swearing, little missy.” Sue takes a second to wag her finger at Reagan.
    Reagan only huffs and rolls her eyes. She shuffles to the side of the bed, flipping to her stomach and winces. Then she rolls right back to her back, holding her hand over her stomach.
    “What is it? Reagan? Are you alright?” Sue switches into instant mommy mode as Reagan always puts it and is at her sister’s side in a flash.
    “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I mean it. Stop looking at me like that. Sometimes my stitched area just pulls funny,” she explains. Sue places her hand on Reagan’s forehead and furrows her own brow with worry.
    “Are you sure, honey? I can get Grandpa,” she offers, half rising from the bed. Reagan grabs her arm and pulls her back, though.
    “No, stop! I said I’m fine. I just made a big, freagin’ mess with my shitty stitch job and now I’m paying the price.”
    Sue knows not to push too hard with Reagan. It only sends her further into herself and then she’ll be done talking and will go off on her own again.
    “Do you want me to take a look?” Sue offers, reaching for the hem of Reagan’s tank. It is a big mistake.
    “No, don’t! I don’t... I don’t want you to see,” Reagan pleads and shoots off the bed in a blur.
    “Honey, it’s just me. You don’t have to feel embarrassed to show me your scars. I’m your sister, Reagan. And hey, I’ve had two kids. Trust me, nothing is as gross as that,” she tries to lighten the mood with a jest. It doesn’t work; she doesn’t even get the slightest ghost of a smile. Reagan crosses to the window and stares out, still holding down the hem of her shirt. Sue tries not to look at her sister’s favorite accessory. Reagan constantly wears a .45 semi-automatic pistol strapped to her right thigh. Nobody ever really even seems to notice it anymore. It is like another permanent appendage. Sue’s kids don’t even make comments about it. It is just who their aunt is now, and if it makes her sister feel safer to wear it, then so be it.
    “I’m a hideous freak. I can’t even stand to look at myself,” she whispers, staring out the window. Her eyes are scanning, scanning. Sue knows that Reagan stays up as late as she can each night on self-assigned guard duty, not that she needs to do so. Grandpa keeps the same hours with the same intentions in mind. Sue had tried to take her turn, but she’d fallen asleep within an hour. Grandpa had lectured her on the importance of enough sleep for a pregnant woman and forbade her from keeping night watch until after the baby comes.
    “Darling, no, please don’t talk like that. You’re so beautiful, Reagan. A few scars can’t take away from that,” Sue tells her. She’s not buffering it, either, because Reagan is beautiful. She has always been beautiful- clueless, but beautiful nonetheless. Her comments earn her a scoffing snort. “Plus, you’re a healer, Reagan. And that’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
    “Get real, Sue. And who gives a shit anyways? It’s not like what you look like is gonna matter anymore...” Reagan is cut off by the buzzing of the intercom system.
    Sue races across the room to answer it. The intercom is not to be used unless it’s a matter of extreme importance. It hadn’t taken long for Grams to instate that law when the girls had first moved in when they were young and