Chapter 6 #5
Freya’s heart squeezed. The little girl was adorable and made her miss her twin nieces fiercely. “Aww, thanks, Daisy. You know, I usually work on Saturdays, so I don’t know if I can make it, but that’s so sweet of you to invite me.”
The little girl’s smile grew. “If you come, it’ll make me and Mr. Slothy super happy. You can come with Xandy!” She turned to the man in question. “Xandy, I’m still hungry.”
His jaw opened slightly in wonder, and he laughed. “Yeah, peanut, we can get you some food.” Recalling Rebecca’s advice from earlier, he caught Daisy’s gaze. “Why don’t you go potty first, and don’t forget to wash your hands really good too. I’m sure they’re ice cream sticky.”
She pressed her hands together and giggled when they stuck together. After hopping out of her seat, Daisy turned to her. “Faya, did you know that they have a little kid potty and little kid sink here?”
Freya glanced at the far corner of the store, and sure enough, in between the men’s and women’s restroom was a small, standalone kids’ stall with a tiny sink beside it.
“Well, that’s super helpful, isn’t it?”
Daisy nodded. “The kid potty doesn’t make a scary noise like the big people one.”
“Alrighty, peanut, less yapping,” Xander said. “Get a move on it. And don’t forget to wash your hands.”
As Daisy skipped toward the bathroom, Freya smiled. “She sure is a sweet girl.”
He nodded, keeping his eye on Daisy until she entered the mini stall. “She is. And seriously, if you’d like to come to her party, I’d be more than happy to take you.”
“Oh, that’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Xander shook his head. “I don’t think you quite understand.
Believe it or not, that little girl is actually really shy.
Like still-doesn’t-make-eye-contact-with-adults-she’s-known-for-a-long-time kind of shy.
Aside from her stepdad and me, I’ve never seen her warm up so fast to anyone.
I mean, not to pat myself on the back or anything. ”
She grinned. “Of course not.”
“I’m serious, though,” he said, rising from the table. He glanced over at Daisy, who was drying her hands. “She’d be thrilled if you came.”
Freya mulled the idea over in her mind for a moment.
To have the chance to hang out with the sweet little girl again would be fun.
Chocolate cupcakes just so happened to be her favorite, and who didn’t like rainbow sprinkles, unicorns, and ice cream?
Daisy’s birthday party sounded more and more appealing . . .
She rose and slipped her jacket on. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s not an imposition, I’ll check my schedule.”
Daisy raced toward them, halting in front of Xander. He crouched down and helped the little girl into her coat. Freya’s stomach flipped at the sight. The tall, uber-masculine guy—man bun and all—carefully zipping up Daisy’s coat and then handing over Mr. Slothy? Uh, yeah . . .
Who was she kidding? Seeing Xander again? Sign me up.
“Not an imposition at all, Freya,” he said, standing. “Now, who wants chicken nuggets and french fries?”
Daisy’s hand shot in the air. “Me!”
He chuckled, took Daisy’s hand, and gave Freya a hopeful smile. “You’re more than welcome to join us, if you’d like.”
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t ignore her buzzing phone for much longer.
“Unfortunately, I can’t.” Biting her lower lip, she waved her phone.
She glanced at her phone’s display and nearly groaned.
Fifty-seven awaiting text messages. Excellent.
“I should probably call my brothers back before they send out the cavalry.”
“Rain check, then,” he said, heading toward the door.
They called their thank-yous to the woman behind the counter and spilled out onto the street. The crisp air had her shivering. However, she wasn’t quite sure if it was actually due to the temperature or the man beside her.
As they neared Ray’s Diner, she said, “Well, Daisy, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for inviting me to join you guys for ice cream.”
“It was fun!” Daisy said, swinging her stuffed animal in her free hand.
Xander reached for the diner’s front door and then paused to crouch down and meet Daisy’s gaze. “I want you to walk to the counter and say hi to Miss Martha. I’ll be right in, okay?”
Daisy nodded. “Okay. Bye, Faya!”
“Bye!” she called out, watching the little girl hustle through the diner. The waitresses seemed to greet Daisy by name, and then she was engulfed in a hug by the older woman standing at the counter.
“Daisy’s mom works here,” Xander said, tracking Daisy through the diner. “I wanted to ask you if this Friday works for that rain check?”
Surprise had her stammering. “Uh, what . . .”
“Rain check. Me and you. Dinner. Like friends do.” He shot her a lopsided smirk that had a flush heating her cheeks.
Good God, what was this handsome man doing to her?
His gaze swung to inside the diner and the woman behind the counter waving at him. “Ah, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you.” He quickly leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks for hanging out and being cool with Daisy.”
Before she could blink, before she could remember to breathe, he was gone. Her heart raced in her chest, and her forehead tingled. What just happened?
Tucked in her coat pocket, her phone buzzed again. Letting out a breath, she turned down the street and began the short, two-block walk to her apartment.
First things first. She wanted to call Janie to see how she was doing after Hazel’s interview. Second, she needed to check in with Miriam. Third, she’d get her brothers off her back.
Then she could fall down the overanalyzing rabbit hole.
Because holy crap. She was going to go out with Xander.
As friends, sure, which was absolutely fine, because she wasn’t ready to hop into any sort of relationship.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be giddy about going out with her smoking hot and surprisingly sweet new friend, right?
Two hours later, Freya held her phone away from her ear and mentally cursed her life. She’d called her brother Finn, since she was closest to him. He was five years her senior—while her other brothers were even older—and she thought he’d be the most reasonable of the bunch.
She’d been wrong.
He ranted about why she hadn’t been honest about how close she’d been to the shooting, and she tuned him out and thought back to the earlier conversation she’d had with Janie.
The woman had been rightfully upset, had felt betrayed that Hazel had told the reporter things she’d revealed to them in confidence. But what killed Freya was that Janie had blamed herself for confiding in virtual strangers in the first place.
Freya had tried to reassure the other woman that the blame lay solely with Hazel, but she wasn’t quite sure Janie believed her. They were meeting up for breakfast tomorrow with Claire to talk some more.
“Are you even listening to me, Frey?” Finn groaned.
She jerked and put the phone back against her ear. Nope. She hadn’t heard a single thing he’d said. “Sorry, you were breaking up. Reception is really spotty over here.”
“Sure.” His tone implied he didn’t believe her.
Even though he was correct, she still bristled. Because, well, brothers. She really wondered how different her life would’ve been had she been an only child.
“For the third time, Freya, what day are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”
She frowned. The holiday was three weeks away, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Especially now. Yes, she missed her nieces, but being the youngest of five—with brothers who were five, eight, and ten years older than her—was a lot.
Their parents had passed away when she was thirteen, so her brothers were understandably protective.
They’d all basically raised her. But there was hovering. And hovering hovering.
And then there were her brothers.
“I’m not sure. I talked to my boss right before I called you, and she said in light of what happened with the shooting, she’s working on redoing the schedule for the month. She wants to meet tomorrow, so I should have a better idea after that.”
“Do not skip out on Thanksgiving, Freya Hansen. Promise me.”
She heaved a sigh. “I won’t.”
“Promise. Me.”
She swore she could feel his glare through the phone. “I. Promise. Besides, I miss the girls. I just don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay. The resort is booked solid over the holiday, but both the spa and salon are closed on Thanksgiving Day.”
“At least there’s that. Have you called any of the others yet?”
“No. And you know what, oh favorite brother of mine?” He muttered a curse, but she continued. “I’d really appreciate it if you could call them for me. Let them know I’m fine and that I’ll be home for Thanksgiving Day for sure.”
“Frey . . .”
She heard the exasperation in his voice. She was so familiar with it, along with his disappointment and frustration, but she still couldn’t help but wince. “I’ll see them at Thanksgiving.”
“You can’t keep hiding from them. You know they love you, right? They just have a hard time with the whole communication thing.”
“No kidding,” she mumbled and then sighed. “I love them too, but they just . . . yell.” And criticize. And made her feel like an idiot who couldn’t get her shit together. It didn’t matter that she worked at a world-renowned resort, that people paid hundreds of dollars for her to do their hair.
Nothing was ever good enough. Especially not with Axel. He was the oldest and was truly more father than brother, and more asshole than not. His only saving grace were his twin daughters.
Her twin brothers, Oscar and Jasper, not only successfully ran their late father’s construction company, but they’d expanded it over the years and now had a waitlist that was months long. Their success equated to them thinking everything she did was subpar.
Yes, she’d worked at three different salons over the last few years. It had taken her a while to find the right fit, but they didn’t see it that way. Instead, they thought it was her being flakey and unable to commit.
Maybe she was being defensive. Maybe not. But Finn wasn’t wrong—she and her oldest brothers had a communication problem. She and Axel especially. It was a problem that didn’t look like it was going to resolve itself anytime soon.
Finn was the only one who didn’t treat her like a child all the time. Only sometimes, like now . . . which was probably fair and deserved since her brothers had the ability to make her revert to a snappy, distrustful, and salty teenager.
“I get that, Frey. I do. But you need to cut them some slack.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why is it always me having to bend to what they want? Why can’t they meet me in the middle too? I’ve tried to compromise with them. You know that. But it’s always their way or nothing at all.”
“I know.” He sighed, and she could picture him running his hands over his face. “This is why you didn’t tell us, isn’t it?”
She shrugged even though her brother couldn’t see it.
“I knew if I told you guys that I was right in the middle of the shooting, the conversation would just devolve into them questioning my decision-making. It would be the whole you-can’t-take-care-of-yourself argument we always end up having.
” Why subject herself to that? Especially when she’d had zero control of what had happened.
“Everything was fine. The man was arrested. No one was seriously hurt. It was a freak occurrence, but you and I both know they wouldn’t see it that way. ”
Her brother heaved another sigh. “Fine, you may have a point. I’ll talk to them, okay? But promise me you’ll stay through Thanksgiving weekend if you don’t have to go right back to work. You can even stay with me from the get-go if that would help.”
It was always expected that when she went home to Blanchard Bay, she’d stay with Axel.
He was raising his twin girls in their childhood home, and of all her brothers, he had the most extra space.
But without fail—adorable nieces or not—the two of them ended up bickering until she stormed off to stay with Finn.
Maybe it would be better if she and Axel gave themselves some space.
God knows, it wouldn’t hurt. “I’ll take you up on that. ”
“Good. I’ll even run the vacuum before you show up.” He chuckled. “Well, maybe.”
“Wow, red-carpet treatment,” she said, deadpan.
“You know it, sis. Now, aside from some asshole shooting up your salon, what else is going on? How are the new digs?”
Her gaze shot around her small apartment, and she grinned, until her eyes caught on the white envelope she’d dumped onto her coffee table with the rest of the junk mail when she’d gotten home earlier that afternoon.
Unease stirred in her stomach, but she pushed it down.
Slapping a smile on her face, she hoped it would inject some levity into her voice, though she felt none.
“My place is cozy and perfect. It’s right downtown and above the cutest knitting shop.
But have I told you about the post office drama I’m having? ”