I curl my hands around the sides of the porcelain sink, the bright colors of my tattoos looking almost garish in the fluorescent lighting. When I glance up, my face looks downright friggin' morbid. Jesus, Zay, get a goddamn grip. I flick my lip piercing with my tongue and stare myself down.
I'm a twenty-nine year old body piercer/nanny who's currently obsessed with a girl that's all wrong for him, that likes angry music, that studies something he can't pronounce, with two inherited kids, that's way too young for him.
But that he really likes. That he wants to … like, claim or something? Pee on? Act like some wild buck on a nature documentary, start fighting off other dudes with his horns.
Fucking fucknuts.
That's what it is.
Brooke Overland, I don't know the girl for shit, but … I've got a crush on her. A big one.
That's going to be a problem.
Zayden is definitely an … interesting person.
After he comes back from the bathroom, he acts normal, but I can see that something's bothering him. Makes me want to figure it out, try to unravel his mysteries. But … I don't have time for that. We eat our food and I notice he leaves the waitress a pretty generous tip. My dad once told me you can get a good idea of a person's character by how they treat waitstaff at a restaurant.
That makes me smile a little.
We start picking up the kids, pinging between schools until the whole brood's collected in the back and Kinzie and Bella are fighting over a Monster High doll. This particular one looks like a centaur, with a purple horse body and a ponytail high on top of her human head. I have no idea what the appeal is, but they're both screeching at the tops of their lungs over it.
“Yo,” Zayden says loudly as we pull into the driveway. He stops the car and turns around in his seat, giving the girls a look with raised brows. “Whose toy is it anyway?”
“It's mine,” Bella says as she yanks the doll away from Kinzie. The other girl lets out a bloodcurdling scream that chills me straight to my core. Suddenly, I feel a burst of panic in my chest. This is going to be my life? For the next … fourteen years? What if I stay here and put years of my life into raising these girls and then Ingrid shows back up? Worse: what if she comes and goes as she pleases, flitting in and out and making things even harder.
I feel sick all of a sudden.
I rip my seatbelt off and shove the door of the van open, practically tumbling out onto the pavement. I figure Zayden got to have his own personal freak-out at the restaurant, so it's my turn now. I move quickly away from the screaming and fighting and let myself in the back gate, kicking it closed behind me and then jogging my way over to the tire swing.
With a quick exhale, I flop onto the wet black rubber and grab hold of the chains, kicking off of the ground and then letting my head fall back, hair trailing behind me as the swing starts to sway.
Looking up, all I can see are the thick branches of the trees, heavy with green needles even in winter. I can hear the faint sound of the front door opening and closing and then … nothing. No kids, no club music, no lectures. Just quiet.
I breathe in and out slowly, letting the massive tire hold my weight as I lay back and let go of the chains. The swaying motion continues, the branch above me creaking and shedding droplets of dew.
I let myself get so zoned out that I don't hear Zayden's footsteps until he's right beside me, sitting down in the grass behind my head. I let myself drop a little further back, so I can stare at him upside down.
“You okay?” he asks me, holding the baby monitor in his lap. I can hear the faint murmur of a TV through it. Sadie must be in her crib in the living room.
“I'm alright,” I say as the swaying starts to slow. Zayden lifts up his foot and uses the white sole of his Converse to push against the rubber; I start to swing again. “I just … that fighting is enough to make anybody lose their shit. And then I thought about how this is my life now. I'm not here on vacation like you are; this is it. Ingrid's been gone for about a month now, and my mom tried, but she can't handle the girls and my dad's health problems all by herself.” I sigh and close my eyes. “When Ingrid does call, she doesn't even want to talk to her own daughters; she has no plans to come back anytime soon.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I hate this house, but I like the yard at least. It's peaceful back here. But then, that's kind of the problem. This whole town is peaceful and laid-back and easygoing. I don't want that. I want exciting and new and fresh. Once I get my degree, I suppose I can move. But then I'll be taking the girls away from dad in his last few years …
I put the heels of my hands over my closed eyes and I want to scream. But then, I don't want Zayden to hear it. Any of it. It's not like this is his problem.
“Is any of this …” he sounds slightly tentative which is weird. I haven't seen the guy be anything in the realm of tentative since I met him last week. “About me perchance?”
I almost smile.