“If you have something to say, just come out with it,” I said without looking up.
“Are you still talking to her?”
There it was. The loaded question I didn’t want to think about.
“No.”
“Why not?”
I stopped and stared at him.
“Nobody’s pissed at you for wanting a relationship with her. You get that, right?” he asked when I didn’t answer.
My strokes were aggressive as I wiped down the wall. “Could’ve fooled me.” They’d all made it abundantly clear how they felt about her. I’d felt the same. I definitely did now. But when the opportunity came to have my mother in my life, I couldn't resist. And they were angry at me for it.
He grabbed my arm. “You should’ve told us.”
“What was I going to say? Mom wants me in her life, but none of you?”
He stumbled back. I hung my head. I shouldn’t have said that, even if it was what she’d told me. That should’ve been a clue she was a monster.
“Yeah. The truth would’ve been nice.”
My brother had already been hurt enough, and I wasn’t going to pile on any more.
“I’m almost done with the walls. Do you have a vacuum?”
“When did you start avoiding the hard stuff?” He stalked out of the office.
“When it got too tough to handle.” The day I was told my soulmate would never return.
Chapter Six
Patrick
“Patrick, my boy. I see you’ve come to the best spot in town.”
“Mr. Dixon.” We shook hands and slapped arms. “You need some help with that?”
I indicated toward the window of the food truck where Trish set a second paper bag. She had a line fifteen people deep, yet there wasn’t an ounce of stress visible.
Mr. Dixon held up Ella and then Blake so Trish could kiss each of them. Their entrance into the family had been seamless. Maybe they were all busy and had loads of crap to deal with—literally with two toddlers. But they were a team.
“Do you mind? I’m taking lunch over to the garage,” he said as he picked up a bag.
“If you can hang on while I grab something myself, I’ll walk over with you.”
A few minutes later, I carried the bags while he pushed the stroller.
“Do I want to know how you ended up keeping Blake?”
“Thank you for trying with Marlow.”
My steps faltered. “Uh—” Did he know?
“Last night. She’s out of line. No, she’s—her behavior is inexcusable. She needs support, even if she doesn’t know it.”
“Look.” I shifted the bags in my hands. “She’s flat out wrong—I started to say I don’t think she means any of it, but I’m not sure. She . . .” I was at a loss.
“Hurts. And doesn’t know how to cope with it.” A bittersweet smile touched his lips. “She’s been that way her whole life.”
“It bothers me. I don’t know why because she’s been nasty to me along with the rest of you.” But it did. I couldn’t stand the thought of her alone and in pain with no way to deal with it.
“The nastier she is the more she likes you.” He winked. “Isn’t that how it works, Ella?”
She screamed a response, and I laughed. “I don’t think it works that way with Marlow.”
“You should’ve seen her with Jack. That poor boy hung around no matter what she did.”
My mood soured at the thought of her and her dead husband. I had seen them together a handful of times over the years. Something about her being happy with another man didn’t sit well with me.
If we’d been the ones together and I died, I couldn’t imagine her grieving over me the way she did for him. Right or wrong, that pissed me off too. Which I couldn’t figure out. I’d always found Marlow attractive, but it was like a veil had been lifted a few months ago. I felt her. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Can you do something for me?”
“Sure. Name it.”
“Will you keep an eye on her and Blake? Call her every day. Check in on them.” His earnest expression was a sucker punch. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but you seem to have more luck with her than the rest of us at the moment.”
It was more than a lot to ask. Wicked didn’t need a guard dog. If anything I needed one to protect me from her. She’d bitten me once and it was vicious. Only fools got bitten twice.
“She doesn’t—” One look at the hope in his eyes and whatever I was going to say died on my lips. “I’d love to.”
“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic.”
“Why don’t you call her yourself?”
“Because I’m still hurt by what she did. I love her. She’s my daughter, and I would do anything for her. But we keep punching each other in the mouth. I’m afraid one of us is going to take it a step too far.”
I liked and respected Mr. Dixon knew his boundaries. That his relationship with his children was so important to him he had the presence of mind to let things simmer when need be.
“How do you take it? Last night, the things she said, they were awful.”
He had an unwavering faith in her that I didn’t fully understand. Probably because I'd never experienced it firsthand.
“I won’t deny that. I . . .” He paused to collect his thoughts. “It feels like we’re on a collision course. I hope that maybe if you spend some time with her, we might turn this boiling cauldron down to a simmer.”
When was the last time anyone believed in me? I didn’t know what to do with that. “You’re putting too much faith in me.”
“Here we are,” he said, rolling the stroller to a stop.
I looked up at the brick building. Paint peeled off the garage doors. The drain pipes hanging down the side were crooked and rusted. The light above the entrance was busted out. It was rough, no
