Fuck. I climb to my feet. “We’re done here.”
“I need to know.” Said so earnestly. Naively. “Mary needs—”
“What the fuck ever.” Hot anger rockets through my chest, burning up my neck. “She doesn’t concern you.”
“Doesn’t she?” She gives me an incredulous look that only makes me angrier. When I don’t speak, a flush spreads on her cheeks. “I’m going to be looking after these kids. It may be hard for you to talk about her, but the kids seem to miss her and—”
“It’s none of your fucking business.”
She flinches. Hard.
Fuck. Fuck!
I glance at the kitchen door where Cole is standing, staring back at me with wide eyes. He scurries away.
“Look…” she begins.
“You don’t need to fucking know,” I hiss at her. “Just look after them. That’s what I’ll be paying you for. Feed them. Keep them busy. Don’t let them fall and break their neck. Keep them safe.” My chest hurts. My throat burns. It feels like more words than I’ve strung up together in years. “Fuck.”
Her lower lip trembles, and my heart is jackhammering in my chest.
It’s too early. It’s fucking bad. I’m raw and open wide, so I’m throwing up defenses like crazy, spikes and walls. Hurting her.
So I walk away from her before I hurt her more.
It would be so damn easy.
Snatches from my nightmares visit me all day long as I work on an old Honda Civic, and while I eat a burger I grabbed from a hole in the wall across the street, manned by an old guy who’s half-blind.
I keep rubbing the inside of my left wrist, an unconscious gesture I don’t notice until Evan asks me about it.
After that, I throw myself into the work with all I have, trying to forget.
Jasper watches me from across the car bay, standing outside his small office, his face unreadable. I didn’t win any favors when I got in the way of his little bullying session with Octavia the other day, I’m well aware of that.
Nothing I would’ve done differently, though, and he still hasn’t said anything to me about it. Doesn’t mean he won’t find a way to turn it against me in the future. That’s how the world turns. Everything you throw at it comes back and bites you in the ass, sooner or later.
Sometimes you don’t even know what the hell you did in a past life to deserve the suckerpunch in the gut life delivers you.
But you feel it. Oh yeah, you sure as hell feel it when it lands.
“So… Octavia works for you?” Evan asks me later, as I wipe my hands on a rug, getting ready to head back to my kids.
I glance at him. He’s a good guy, but right now he’s plain nosy. “Yeah,” I say shortly.
“Is she taking care of your kids? She talked about wanting to work as a nanny when she finished school. She’s a natural, man. She all but raised her brother and sister. Good choice, is all I’m saying.”
“You know her.” Not a question. It’s obvious—and why do I care?
“It’s a small town,” he says, nodding. “I know her family. Good people. Her sister is very pretty, a little minx, and...” He throws me a sheepish glance. “Sorry. Gigi is a character. And her brother, Merc, good kid. Their mom is a nice, hard-working lady, and takes good care of them.”
What do I care about her family? All those ridiculous names. And what do I care that there doesn’t seem to be a father included in the list Evan seems to think I need?
I pull on my hoodie and push the hair off my face. I’m covered in sweat and car oil, and the evening is falling, warm and soft, the sky deepening into a perfect blue.
Emma’s favorite color.
My heart is hammering. Yeah, it was her favorite, and I can picture her perfectly sitting on the porch of our house, in that shimmery blue dress she wore when I proposed to her. So young. So fiery.
So beautiful.
“Hey.” Evan punches me lightly in the arm. His brows are drawn together. “You okay, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Maybe I have.
Chapter Ten
Octavia
“Long day?”
The voice startles me, and then I see him, leaning on the fence three doors down from my house, the glowing embers of a cigarette between his fingers.
Adam.
He pushes off the fence and approaches me, a wide smile on his face. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”
I shake my head, hiding a smile of my own. “So you waited out here, on the street, in the dark, just in case I showed up?”
His cigarette is burning, but he doesn’t bring it to his mouth, instead letting the ashes fall and drift away on the warm breeze. He wags his brows. “That’s how I roll, baby.”
I snicker. “I see that.”
I’m pleased, and flattered, but I have to remind myself he’s just teasing. He went out to smoke and happened to see me passing by, that’s all.
“Want to go for ice cream?” He drops his cigarette and steps on it, crunching under his heel. He steps closer, and his aftershave smells of something oceanic. His smile is blinding white. “It’s too warm.”
I can’t think of a reason why not. Not even sure why I’m looking for a reason. “Let me tell Mom I’m back first.”
“Sure thing,” he says as I open the gate and walk up the path to the house. “Hey, I saw you talking to that bearded guy at the garage. You work for him?”
I stop, turn back around. “You were there?”
I don’t remember seeing him.
He nods, runs a hand through his curls. “Sorry if I seem indiscreet. He looks…” He huffs.
“Like a hermit?”
“I was going to say like a dick.”
I laugh. “He is kind of a douche.”
“I knew it.”
The breeze brings his scent over to me, along with the smell of cut grass and blossoms. We smile at each other, sharing our understanding of Matt Hansen.
Then I think of how Matt grabbed me as I fell in the drugstore and defended me at the garage, how he put his head in his hands today.
How he stood beside me, smelling of man and strength and despair.
My stomach knots up. I hurry into the house, and stop for a moment in the cool interior, just breathing, battling the confusion I shouldn’t be feeling.
This is an easy one, Octavia. Between the douchebag and the cute neighbor, you really shouldn’t have trouble choosing the right one.
The question is, the right one for what?
With orders to bring back a family-size tub of chocolate chip ice cream for Gigi and my mom, and mint for Merc, I set off with Adam.
The town is quiet. Some kids play football in an empty field. A dog is barking. The main street isn’t very far, and it’s a perfect evening for a stroll.
That’s what I tell myself, trying to quell the voice in my head insisting it feels too much like a date.
So what if it does?