Chapter 7
Seven
She doesn’t want flowers. She wants a twelve-foot skeleton from Home Depot.
—Dru to Romeo
Romeo
The jerkiness of the grappler was downright terrifying. The trees were being swung around like they had something to prove. She was fast, methodical, and relentless. She’d gone straight through the morning, into her break, and all the way up to lunch.
However, she was going to take that break whether she wanted to or not.
One, because she needed to calm down before she accidentally killed one of my men—not that I thought she was out of control. But it was never safe to operate heavy equipment when you were angry as fuck.
Two, because I didn’t like seeing her angry.
I wasn’t sure why.
I barely knew the woman, but I just couldn’t handle seeing her that angry.
What I wanted to do when I saw her that morning was throw the food she’d handed me onto the ground and haul her into my arms and ask her what was wrong.
What I’d done instead was allowed her to retreat.
Maybe I shouldn’t have.
Because this type of anger wasn’t good.
I didn’t care how she got rid of that anger, but she’d get it done before we were done with lunch, that was for sure.
I hefted my lunch over my shoulder and continued right up to her, forcing her to stop.
She threw it into neutral, then crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me.
It was downright the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
Have you ever seen a tiny thing try to be ferocious? It was like watching a lion cub learning how to roar.
Once I knew she was fully stopped, I climbed up onto her track and sat down where I was yesterday. The snow was cold, the dirt even colder, but I continued to sit as I waited for her to open her door.
She did, eventually, open it with a huff.
“I’m busy,” she snapped.
Again, cute.
“Yeah, but you gotta eat lunch,” I pointed out.
“I don’t have to do anything. I’m a grown-ass adult,” she grumbled.
I took a bite of my shitty gas station sandwich, and just when I was a few bites in, a soft thud hit my jacket.
I looked down to see a sandwich wrapped in brown paper sitting on the track next to my hip.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“A sandwich,” she grumbled. “Stop eating that shit. They put chemicals on it to make it last longer.”
“Tastes like it.” I threw it back into my lunchbox. “But I’m fairly awful at making food. Even sandwiches.”
She snorted. “No one is awful at making sandwiches.”
“They always turn out soggy,” I disagreed. “Every single time.”
“That’s because you’re putting your condiments or your tomatoes directly against the bread. If you want a non-soggy sandwich, you have to put that stuff with the cheese on first. Honestly, if you want tomatoes, I’d hold off until you’re just about to eat the sandwich before you add them.”
“Huh,” I said. “I guess that makes sense.”
“And you truly can’t fuck up peanut butter and jelly. That’ll last until lunchtime.”
I grimaced. “I’ll never eat peanut butter and jelly again.”
Her head tilted as she said, “Why?”
Because I was forced to eat it every day for seven fucking years while I was in prison…
“Because I don’t like jelly,” I lied.
I liked jelly before. But now the shit made me want to vomit even seeing it. I couldn’t even enjoy my favorite breakfast meal of biscuits and jelly anymore.
Fuckin’ Jamie.
I still hated myself for letting her affect me the way that she had.
My life would be a lot different if I’d trusted my first impression of her.
“Who doesn’t like jelly?” she asked with a frown.
“Me.” I shrugged.
“Noted,” she said. “At least I didn’t go with peanut butter and jelly for you.”
The way she cooked, I might’ve been able to stomach it…
“What did you make me?”
She grumbled something under her breath then, a little bit louder, said, “Steak and cheese.”
“Huh,” I said as I opened it up. When I did, I saw the mayo oozing out of the side. “This looks fantastic.”
I brought the sandwich up to my mouth and took a healthy bite.
A groan escaped me when the food hit my lips. “Whoa.”
“Good?” she asked.
“Great,” I corrected her. “Best sandwich I’ve ever had.”
“You’re exaggerating.” She snorted.
I shook my head and went for another bite. “I’m seriously not. This is truly the best sandwich I’ve ever had.”
Granted, I didn’t do many sandwiches when I could have a burger instead, but I’d had enough to know…she was really good at making food.
I’d had her breakfast burrito this morning, too, and it was by far the best thing I’d ever put in my mouth when it came to breakfast food.
“Well, I’ll take the compliment, but you’ve obviously not had enough sandwiches in your life if you think this is the best.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I was mean to you today.”
“Everyone has those days.” I shrugged. “And you weren’t mean.”
“I was mean, Meo.”
I smiled at the nickname.
The only people who called me “Meo” was my sister and the owner of Hopps.
Had I seriously not ever given her my name?
“I like that you call me Meo,” I said. “But it made me realize I’ve made a crucial mistake.”
“Oh?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “My name is Romeo. I’m sorry for not introducing myself.”
She made a disbelieving sound. “Your actual name is Romeo?”
“Yep,” I confirmed.
“Like, Romeo and Juliet?”
“Like that.”
“Huh,” she said. “Do you like your name?”
“I don’t dislike it,” I admitted. “It’s just my name. I just realized I’d never given it to you. And I’m sorry. My sister would kick my ass if she’d known that my manners were that atrocious.”
“Your sister, huh? Not your parents?”
“My parents taught me how to dislike them. That’s about it,” I said.
“Now my sister? I had to learn manners so I could teach her manners. She loved tea parties when she was younger, and we had to do it ‘exactly like real people that drink tea’ do it. What she was actually wanting was to drink tea like nobles in the eighteen hundreds used to do. The fancy clothes, the accents, and the mannerisms. It’s just something that stuck. ”
Because I could tell you now, with the life that I grew up with, manners were the last thing you wanted to have.
Mom and Dad had spent their lives barely making ends meet. Eventually we’d been moved to one of the worst suburbs in Dallas. The one where you had to watch yourself and your valuables, because both were equally coveted.
Mom and Dad worked and never came home half the time, so it was up to me to take care of my sisters.
And when I saw my baby sister getting a little too much attention from the worst kind of people, I made it my life mission to clean up our street. That had then extended to my neighborhood. Then the few blocks outside of the neighborhood.
“My mom was the best thing that ever happened to this world,” Mable said quietly, “When she got cancer, and my dad started to cheat with the hospice nurse, I wanted to burn the world down.”
I blinked, then turned to look at her, the last bite of sandwich between my fingers halfway raised to my lips. “There’s a special place in hell for people like that.”
“I hope you’re right,” she replied.
“What kind of sick bitch does that?” I asked. “Let alone your asshole of a father. But this woman that’s supposed to be caring about human beings? Do you think your mom knew?”
She cleared her throat. “I think she did. I mean, even I at such a young age could see the closeness there. The lingering touches. How she came way more than she should have. None of the other hospice nurses that came stayed as long as she did.”
“What a waste of space,” I grumbled as I shoved the last bite of sandwich into my mouth before mumbling, “This is the woman that I saw you with at the country club?”
“One and the same,” she confirmed. “That’s why I was so mad today. Well, at least kind of related. My dad isn’t a good person. I think I finally read the writing on the wall today and realized that he’s never again going to be the person he once was.”
“What happened?”
She launched into her entire life story.
I fucking hated hearing every second of it.
“One, your stepsister’s a bitch,” I said once she was through.
“Two, I’m sure there’s way more that you haven’t shared, which only makes this worse.
Three, your dad’s a disgrace to all mankind.
His man card should be revoked. Four, you’re lucky to have your best friend’s parents.
I think it’s karmic justice that you found them.
It probably eats your stepmother, stepsister, and father alive. ”
“It does,” she confirmed. “When I started hanging out with Cody, Birdee upped her game.”
“Well, I hate to tell you this, but she’s smart. My friend hasn’t found out shit about her. But that just means it’s more of a challenge. He’ll be all over this now that he actually has to work for it.”
“She’s good with computers,” Mable confirmed. “She’s dallied around with them since high school. I don’t know if she’s an expert or anything, but my father and stepmother never spared a single expense. If she wanted a computer or classes, she got it.”
“What’d you get?” I wondered.
She handed me a small thermos and a spoon.
I opened it and took a hasty bite, moaning when the taste of potato hit my tongue.
“Yum,” I mumbled before taking another bite.
“I didn’t get much.” She shrugged. “I didn’t really want much, either.
I think it broke my dad’s heart that I didn’t want to spend any time with them.
Or have anything to do with them, either.
I couldn’t stand going to the country club—where he spends most of his days.
I didn’t want to have anything to do with them once we hit high school, either.
Birdee made it nearly impossible to even want to be at home. ”
Movement beyond us started back up again, and I realized we were way behind on our lunch.
I hastily finished up and handed her the thermos back. “That was the best meal I’ve had in years.”
She smiled. “I’ll bring you food tomorrow, too. Save your money and don’t buy that gross sandwich.”
I winked at her and hopped down.
She tossed something at me, and I caught a cookie the size of my hand.
“Nice,” I said as I ripped it open. “Best day ever.”
She smiled and I was happy to see that some of the tension had left her face and shoulders.
“Be careful,” she called out to me.
I jerked my chin up. “As careful as I can be doing a job like this.”