Liam: Branded Brothers by Raen Smith

had.
    She sighed and fished through a drawer to find a pen and pad
of paper. She scribbled a checklist on the paper:
    1. Pack rest of boxes.
    2. Search for an apartment.
    3. Call realtor.
    4. Go to Dirty Leprechaun and tell Liam about Jack.
    4. Stay out of Liam’s business with Jack.
    5. Don’t fall in love with Liam Murphy.
     
    ***
     
    Charla rolled her Corolla to a stop,
idling at the Goodwill donation drop-off in Blackwell. Her car was packed to
the gills, boxes stacked and bags crammed in every corner. She had driven the
thirty minutes with a lamp on her lap. The load had only made a small dent in
the cabin, but if she’d keep the pace up, she’d have it cleared in two days.
She’d have to handle two more nights sleeping at the cabin.
    She opened the trunk and handed the first box to the
donation attendant. She was reaching for the second box when a familiar voice
cut through her.
    “Is that you?” asked the woman. Charla didn’t have to turn
to know her mother was standing behind her. Blackwell was really too small. Her
mother had moved here a little over a year ago for Larry or Tom or maybe it was
Travis. Charla couldn’t quite remember the name of the rotating men her mother
dated. Her mother had moved only two weeks after she’d found out Charla was
attending nursing school in Blackwell. She closed her eyes and set the box back
down. She took a deep breath before turning around to see the one-and-only
Dotti Taylor.
    “Mom,” she said through her teeth before she forced a smile
to match her mom’s. Dotti was wearing a mini-skirt and low-cut tank top with
what Charla classified as stripper heels. Classy, she thought. What
else would she wear on a Wednesday morning at Goodwill?
    “Honey,” Dotti gushed, moving toward her until they were
only inches apart. Dotti wrapped her arms around Charla and gave a tight
squeeze. Charla stood there for a moment before lifting one of her arms to give
her a light pat on the back. This was how it always was. Dotti would shower her
with snippets of affection before Charla would see flashes of the wicked witch
she really was. Dotti released her and held her shoulders an arm’s length away.
“How have you been, honey?”
    “Good,” Charla replied short and sweet, praying Dotti
wouldn’t notice the car packed with stuff.
    “All of this needs to go?” The attendant asked behind her.
    “Yeah.” Charla nodded her head at him and turned back to
Dotti.
    “What’s all that stuff?” Dotti asked, pointing a finely
manicured nail at the trunk. She took a step forward and examined the car. She
spun her head back toward Charla. “Did he die?”
    Charla groaned inwardly, wishing like hell Dotti wasn’t
standing here. “Yeah, he did.”
    “Did he leave you with anything?” Dotti asked, leaning in
toward her. Charla could smell the alcohol on her breath. She wasn’t sure if it
was from last night or this morning. Either way, it didn’t matter. She was on
the bottle again.
    “No, he didn’t leave me anything. Just a cottage to clean
out,” Charla replied, the anger rising in her throat.
    “He leave you the place?” Dotti pressed. “You have an extra
room? That asshole landlord of mine threatened to kick me out again…”
    “How’s sobriety?”
    She pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. The
Dotti Flip had switched. “Don’t you even mutter a word to me about sobriety,
you ungrateful little thing. You have no clue what I’ve been through. Ever
since I lost Peter, I’ve never been the same. You lose your husband and then
come talk to me about it. See how you handle it.”
    “It’s been ten years and that man was never a real husband
to you, unless you consider a husband to be an emotional and physical abuser
who does nothing else but suck the life out of you,” Charla snapped. “You’re
better off without him.”
    “Don’t you say those things about your father,” Dotti hissed
and pointed a nail into Charla’s chest.
    “He wasn’t my