Chapter 5 #2
Briar hesitated, then muttered, “Danielle told me to quit dance.”
I gaped at her. “I’m sorry—what? You mean your father’s fiancée and my high school nemesis is telling my daughter what to do? The hell you say?”
“She said Dad’s having a hard time financially, and that dance is too expensive, and maybe I should think about stopping so there’s more money for… everything else.”
My jaw clenched. “Did your father say that? Did he agree? What did he say? Tell me everything before I lose my ever-loving mind.”
“No,” Briar said. “He just stood there. He didn’t say anything. It was almost like she was telling me that for him.”
Of course, he didn’t say a word—the weak-ass loser. I ground my teeth together so hard my head pounded. I would never say anything bad about him to the kids. Or at least I would try my hardest not to. “And by ‘everything else,’” I finally asked, “do you mean Danielle’s kids?”
Briar shrugged, but her face had gone tight. “Probably. And a new couch for the living room. Um, he said he was going to come talk to you soon.”
I took a breath. Then another. I was trying to be reasonable. But my baby girl had just been told to give up the one thing that made her feel strong and joyful after going through a very hard time because her dad couldn’t be bothered to advocate for her.
“Oh, I’m going to kill him,” I said. Damn it. I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Mom,” Lark, my little peacemaker, put her hand on my arm.
“No.” I took her hand. “It’s okay.” I tried to dial back my anger. “Not like murder, murder. Not like prison murder. Just a little bit of murder. With threats, I mean words—bad ones. And maybe some salad tongs.” Well, that was an utter failure.
Briar cracked a small smile. Lark did too, but quietly.
“Dance is not optional,” I said. “You hear me? I don’t care what Danielle says. That’s your thing, Briar. And you get to have your thing. The court and a freaking judge said you get to have your thing.” My voice rose along with my temper. “So you’re keeping it no matter what I have to do.”
She nodded, blinking quickly. “Okay. Thanks.”
I took her hand too and looked between both girls. “Next time, just tell me, okay? Don’t sit over here like you’re in a spy thriller. The Darlington girls do not keep secrets.” Except for me, who was keeping a huge one about Hunter, but whatever.
Lark snorted. “We weren’t very good at it.”
“No, you were terrible,” I said. “Remind me never to cast you as spies.”
I stood up and brushed the grass from my jeans.
“Also,” I added, already plotting a truly impressive rage-text to Eli, “remind me never to let Danielle speak to any of my children ever again.” I decided I could badmouth her, maybe just a little.
I was muttering murder scenarios under my breath when we made our way back to the firepit. I’d nearly decided that rusty salad tongs were my weapon of choice when Briar slipped her hand into mine.
“You okay?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Mad. But also kind of hungry.”
“Fury burns calories,” I said solemnly. “Let’s feed it.”
We rejoined the crowd around the fire just as Grandpa appeared with his usual paper plate stacked dangerously high—burger, hot dog, beans, potato chips, and an extra helping of whatever dessert someone dared to leave unattended.
“You girls hungry?” he asked, giving us all a once-over with his Grandpa Radar?—fully capable of detecting emotional instability, heartbreak, or hidden contraband.
Briar nodded.
“Then get you a plate, sweetie,” he said. “I didn’t raise this family to skip dinner over drama.”
“Technically, you didn’t raise me,” Briar said. “And how do you know there was drama?”
He pointed at her with his fork. “I’m still claiming you. And I have eyes, don’t I? I know what drama looks like when I see it.”
Piper appeared as if out of nowhere, strawberry in one hand, probably sensing family tension like the bloodhound she was. “Okay, why does Paige have her do not engage face on?”
“It’s my regular face,” I protested weakly.
“No, it’s the one where you’re mentally drafting an email that starts with ‘per my last message’ and ends with jail time. What’s going on? Let me help.”
I sighed and waved a hand. “Danielle told Briar to quit dance class to save money. Apparently, they need a new couch.”
The ripple was instant. Cara dropped her drink. Lucy gasped so dramatically you’d think someone spoiled the ending to a true crime documentary. Eliza whispered, “That witch,” which in Eliza-speak was basically a declaration of war.
“Maybe we should kick her ass a little bit,” Lucy grumbled.
“I’ll get a shovel and pick a spot behind the barn,” Cara offered. “You know, if it gets out of hand.”
“I’ll provide the alibis,” Spencer added.
“Guys,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “We’re not going to kill her or beat her up or even talk to her.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ren muttered. “I am on this. No charge. This was settled.”
Grandpa just stood there, nodding slowly, like he was running calculations in his head. Finally, he jabbed his fork toward Briar. “You want to keep dancing?”
Her eyes widened. Hope shining through. “Yes.”
“Done. I’ll pay for it. Forget about Danielle and whatever she wants. Forget about Eli, too. Problem solved—no conflict, no arguments. We’ll keep our little Briar-girl out of the middle.”
“Grandpa—” I started, instantly launching into my default protest. “That’s not necessary. I’ve got it.”
He gave me a look that could stop time. “You’ve been doing everything yourself for too damn long, Paige. Let me do this one thing. I won’t even tell your mother about it.”
I groaned. “Now it sounds shady.”
“Good,” he said. “Keeps things exciting.”
“But I can—”
“Paige.” He stepped closer, his voice gentle now. “Let her dance. Let me help. You’ve taken care of everybody else. It’s okay to let someone take care of you for once.”
I looked around the firepit—at my sisters, my girls, the way Piper had slid an arm around Briar’s shoulders, and how Lark had quietly handed her a marshmallow and a Hershey Bar. These people were mine. Messy, loud, and way too involved, but all mine.
“Okay,” I said, voice soft.
“Okay?” Grandpa repeated, eyes narrowing like he didn’t quite believe it. “Really?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Well, alright, done deal. Dance with me, honey.” Grandma clapped her hands together in satisfaction, then she grabbed Briar and spun her in a circle before pulling her into a big hug.
I heaved out a relieved sigh. Briar would be okay; Grandma’s hugs could work magic. And Grandpa had been helping us solve all our problems since we were born.
Grandpa smiled, satisfied, and said to Briar. “Great.” He held out a hand. “Now let’s go eat some questionable kale salad whatchamacallit and pretend your great grandma doesn’t add raisins to everything.”
Briar grinned and followed him toward the buffet table to fill a plate.
I sank back onto the picnic bench, exhausted but a little lighter. Piper handed me a strawberry and leaned her head on my shoulder.
“We’re not going to let either one of them mess with the girls,” she said quietly. “Or Noah.”
“I know.”
She paused. “But if you need us to come up with some interesting revenge, we do have access to a barn and an entire chicken costume from last Halloween. And Larry is usually down for anything.”
I snorted. “Don’t tempt me.”
Piper drifted off back to Ren to make s’mores, and I was left alone with my half-finished Diet Coke, the scent of firewood, and the sound of Briar laughing with my grandpa.
I should’ve felt better.
And I did. Mostly.
But under the relief was something else. A kind of tired that lived in my bones. The kind that came from fighting battles no one else saw—again and again—while trying to keep everything running and everyone smiling.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket.
I pulled it out and saw Hunter’s name.
Hunter: Just checking in. You okay?
Just two words.
But they cracked something open in me.
Not “how was the barbecue” or “what happened.” Not pushy or prying.
Just okay.
Like he could feel that tonight had cost me something.
I stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering.
Then I typed back.
Me: Yeah. Kids are fed. Grandpa’s mad. Family’s rallying. So… the usual. Thanks for asking.
Three dots flickered, then stilled.
Then finally—
Hunter: Anytime you want to talk. You know where to find me.
I stared at the message long enough that the screen dimmed.
Then I hit save on the moment.
Tucked it away somewhere soft.
And went to be with my girls.