Chapter Twenty-One #2
Fine, that joke was probably lost on the five-year-old, but it had to land with the teacher, right? Wrong. The woman still
hadn’t looked up from her phone.
Any mother in the same position wouldn’t have been treated like this.
It was just her.
That certainty now sat in her stomach, heavy but familiar.
The feeling of not being respected.
Eve swallowed, trying and failing to stave off the inferiority. They’d been in the bathroom for five minutes and she was no
closer to getting Landon to come out. “Why is that chef’s hat so important to you, Landon?” she asked, changing tactics.
The silence drew itself out for so long, she wasn’t sure he was going to answer. But then, “I used to wear it. To help my
mom cook.”
“Oh,” Eve breathed, winded. Of course, the hat had special meaning to Landon.
He’d been asking to wear it to school for weeks.
Why hadn’t she asked why before now? Had she been so caught up in her own bullshit that she couldn’t see what was right in front of her?
Wetting her lips, Eve turned to the teacher. “We’re going to need that hat, please.”
The woman lowered her phone. “It’s wrecked, honestly. We couldn’t salvage it.”
Eve nodded. “Still. We need it. I’m happy to go get it myself.”
“Out of the trash?”
“Yes.”
“Fitting,” mumbled the teacher as she pushed backward through the bathroom door. Eve’s blood flushed cold, then hot, hating
that sickly feeling of embarrassment she spent so much of her life trying to avoid. She wanted to follow the teacher into
the hallway and remind her that, sure, she could laugh or run her mouth as much as she wanted when it came to Eve, so long
as she treated Lark and Landon with the same love and respect as the other children. Was she? After the woman’s total lack
of assistance or empathy, Eve doubted it. Lark and Landon were two more people in her life not getting the treatment they
deserved . . . because of her. “Hey,” she blurted, hating the quaver in her voice. “Let’s go get your sister and have a ditch
day.”
“What’s a ditch day?”
Eve thought on her feet. “Well, the first order of business is fixing that goddamn hat. Where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“Really?”
“Yup. And . . .” Eve rubbed at her chest. “Maybe, if you’re up for it, we could cook something at home. I know cooking with
your mom is special and it won’t be exactly the same, but I can sub in until she gets back.”
The latch on the stall slid open, the door creaking open slowly to reveal the tear-streaked face of her nephew. “We cook meatballs.”
“Okay. Do you want to cook meatballs with me? Or leave meatballs for Mom . . . and make something different with me?”
Thoughts whirred behind his eyes. “Something different, I think.”
“Cool, man. One problem, though.”
“What?”
“I can’t cook. Will you teach me?”
This time, he definitely giggled.
Eve laid an arm across his little shoulders and escorted him toward the door. “My friend Madden is hanging out with me today.
Can he help us too?”
Landon looked up at her. “The baseball player?”
“Yes.”
“But he’s a Yankee.”
“We like him despite that.”
“I guess.” Her nephew’s brow furrowed. “Can we play baseball after we cook?”
For some reason, the imagery of that cozy, family-esque scene caused Eve to panic. “Uh, maybe. We can ask him. I don’t know
if he has any equipment with him, but . . .”
“Skylar’s house has some,” Landon said.
“That is true.” She squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll see.”
They’d only taken two steps into the hallway when Landon’s teacher came into view, the sodden tatters of his chef’s hat pinched
between her thumb and index finger. Landon’s prized possession resembled a paper place mat from Denny’s that had been left
out in a hurricane.
“Shit,” Eve muttered, before forcing a smile onto her face as the teacher handed her the chef’s hat she’d unwisely promised
to repair. “Just needs a little spit shine, right, Landon?”
He threw up a fist. “Right!”
“I’m needed back in class,” said the teacher, her expression pinched. “Landon, do you want to head back with me?”
“Nope,” her nephew responded. “We’re ditching.”
“Well”—Eve held back a laugh—“I just remembered he has a doctor’s appointment . . .”
Landon’s face fell. “I do?”
Eve put her hand over his mouth and ushered him toward the attendance office. “Lark has one too,” she called over her shoulder
to the now openly scowling teacher. “If you could send her out, please?”
Ten minutes later, her niece and nephew skipped alongside Eve toward the parking lot. While she had waited for Lark to join
them in the attendance office and signed out both kids for the afternoon, she’d shot off a quick text to Madden to let him
know plans had changed.
The kids came first, and Eve sensed they needed a diversion. Some spontaneous fun.
Now she could see the outline of Madden through the windshield of his truck and the sight was so welcome, the pulses in her
neck and fingertips fluttered, the sun above extra warm because he’d be sharing it with her, with them—
A man strode past on the sidewalk and did a double take. So did Eve. Because she knew this man. Steve Kirk. One of her tormentors
from high school. And one of the only people who could shrink her down to the size of a flea. Was he a teacher here? Or had
he come to pick up his kid early, same as her? Just passing by?
“Eve Keller. Is that you?”
She winced but kept walking, hoping and praying he would see the kids and leave her alone. “Hi, Steve.”
“You never rescheduled your performance. I keep checking the website.”
Eve shrugged, her skin starting to pipe hot.
Ahead of her, the car door opened and Madden got out, standing to his full height, his narrowing gaze trained on Steve, causing
memories from high school to come rushing back in rapid order. This was not good. In fact, considering the kids were present
and they were outside an elementary school, a potential confrontation was a terrible possibility. Steve, however, didn’t notice
Madden’s presence. Which is probably why he continued to run his mouth.
This is why.
This is why I wanted to come alone.
This is why I spare people I love.
“Like I told the waitress at the lounge, forget the stage,” Steve kept going. “If Eve ever decides to make house calls with
her little act, I’ll be her best customer.”
Madden moved in a flash. One second, he stood beside the driver’s-side door, the next he was in front of Steve Kirk, staring
the man down from a good six inches higher, the front of the man’s shirt twisted in a shaking fist. “Get the kids in the car,
Eve,” he said, sounding strangled.
Eve jolted into action, her heart hammering in her throat as she hustled the kids toward the truck, babbling to them about
cooking and baseball, hoping to distract them from whatever was taking place between the men twenty yards away on the sidewalk.
Thankfully, they seemed totally oblivious to the tension among the adults, more concerned with their upcoming adventure.
Eve buckled the sister and brother in, closing the door behind them just in time to hear Madden say, “I warned you years ago about leaving her alone, didn’t I?
Did you think I forgot? I didn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed a piece of garbage like you could evolve.
Or grow the fuck up. That’s my mistake. Yours was speaking to her like that.
” He twisted Steve’s collar until his gasps were silenced and his arms started to flail in panic.
“If the kids weren’t watching, you’d be having your jaw wired shut this afternoon.
I’d be doing the world a favor. When I let you go, you better use that first breath to apologize to her. ”
Madden loosened his grip and Steve sucked down oxygen with a wheeze.
“I’m sorry, Eve. I’m sorry.”
“I sincerely hope you’re not here to pick up a daughter,” Madden finished. And with that, Madden threw him away like trash,
causing the man to stumble backward several feet before righting himself. He looked around, fixing his hair, more concerned
with being humiliated than his own behavior. Meanwhile, Madden appeared to be debating the wisdom of chasing the man into
the wild blue yonder.
“Mad,” Eve called, jogging toward him and inserting herself between one of the best men she’d ever met—and the worst. “I get
the anger, believe me, but you’ve done enough.”
Madden’s chest rose and fell like he’d just lapped the block. “I want to kill him.”
“I know.”
“Come to New York with me, Eve,” he said in a growled rush. “Get away from this.”
Shock made her eye sockets tingle. “What?” she said slowly. “You know I can’t.”
He seemed to snap out of his trance then, tempering himself as she watched. “Right.” His jaw popped. “Right, I know.”
“I’m used to it.” Eve tried to laugh, but the words wobbled out like jelly.
Wrong thing to say. Madden lit up with temper all over again.
“Hey.” She went up on her toes and forced him to look her in the eye. “That’s not what I meant. I meant . . . it doesn’t faze
me like it did in high school.”
Madden searched her face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
Then he did something she didn’t expect. Didn’t see coming.
He wrapped her in a bear hug. Lifted her against his body so securely, she could have let herself go limp and it wouldn’t
have made a difference. She sucked in a breath and shifted on her toes, as they were the only part of her body connected to
the ground, fighting against the lethargy that stole over her, even as her brain demanded she reassure him again that she
was fine. I’m fine!
But what if I’m not?
Madden didn’t seem inclined to release her any time soon and her eyelids took that as an invitation to droop—and when that
happened, New York painted itself on the backs of her eyelids, buzzing and flashy and vast and loud. Just for a moment, she
allowed herself to picture herself walking into a doorman building, hand in hand with Madden, a million miles from the claws
that had been dug into her skin since childhood. Free to go anywhere, do anything, with friends or anonymously. Out of the
quicksand.
The vision started to feel so good, too good, that Eve’s eyes shot open with alarm.
“The kids are in the car,” she murmured breathily, wiggling until he freed her. Refusing to acknowledge the knowing look heating
her back as she speed walked to the truck. “Let’s go make a disaster out of my kitchen.”