Chapter 17 August - You big softy
“These guys are fucking morons, Sawyer,” I tell my best friend for probably the sixth time just this morning. It may be redundant, but it’s the truth. I swipe my hand down my face in exhaustion from watching the shitshow unfolding in front of me.
When Sawyer got all of the plans approved to add an extension to one of the cottages, we both quickly realized it wasn’t a two-man job if we wanted to have it done by the time the twins finished cooking, especially with the winter creeping up on us and with our actual work at Rivers River.
So, we outsourced. Got a small local construction crew that’s, sure, fine.
They’re not half bad. If your version of half bad is taking a goddamn fifteen minute break every hour, dropping every tool and two-by-four you pick up, and bitching about just about anything and everything under the sun all while listening to the worst EDM house music you could find at full fucking blast.
Sawyer sighs, hands on his hips, head hung. “As long as they can manage to frame this out before the first snowfall, I don’t really care.”
“I care,” I grumble. “We could’ve—”
“No, we couldn’t have. That’s why they’re here. I realize they’re lazy. I know they’re nothing like us, but this is a situation where more hands on deck matter. You bitching about their bitching isn’t gonna fix shit.”
“Alright!” I bark. “I get it!”
Sawyer stalks off to check in with one of the guys manning the sawzall.
I really need to stop pressing Sawyer’s buttons. His patience has run thin with taking care of Margot and worrying about if they’re gonna have a solid place to take their newborns home to by her due date. Or earlier, since apparently that’s more than likely with twins.
I now have way too much knowledge I never planned on gathering on how pregnancy and childbirth and newborns work, thanks to Sawyer. He has a constant flow of information spouting out of him—I think out of nerves—and I’ve been the recipient of it all.
It feels like a waste, seeing as how I’ll never use any of it. But if it helps Sawyer out in any way to talk it through, I’ll listen. I owe him.
I pull out my phone and see two notifications. Both are Daisy-related, and nothing feels weirder than being excited to see that.
@riversriverco posted a new story!
Daisy Darling
I just stopped by Red’s. Penelope’s home sick today so they’re not sure if plans are still a-go for tomorrow :/
I ignore the Instagram notification, quickly typing a response to Daisy.
Shit, P’s not feeling good? A wave of worry crashes into me. I’m at least four times the size of Penelope, and when I’m sick, I’m down for the count. What happens when a person that little gets a cold? Or the flu? Or worse?
Me
Is she okay? What’s wrong?
Thankfully, Daisy answers almost instantly.
Daisy Darling
Chill, Uncle Gussy. Just a regular ole stomach bug. Those things get passed around the elementary school like candy. Miller’s home with her. I just wanted to give you a heads up.
Me
Poor kid.
Daisy Darling
I’m gonna tell everyone you’re actually just a huge teddy bear.
Me
Not funny.
I blow out a breath and swipe into my text thread with Miller.
Me
How’s lil P? Does she need anything?
He doesn’t answer, and I tell myself it’s because he’s busy being a dad or napping with P. Everything’s fine, just like Daisy said. I pocket my phone to resume monitoring the construction, seeing if there’s anywhere I can lend a hand to move this along.
I replay last night, just like I have about six hundred times over already.
I forgot how addictive it is to hear Daisy laugh. She doesn’t offer the sound often, usually never in my vicinity. And she cares so much about her brothers. It’s…Well, it’s beautiful, honestly.
And maybe she doesn’t see it because it’s hard when there’s so much on your plate, but they respect the hell out of her.
I’m sure I didn’t get the full picture after only spending a few hours with them, but to me, it was clear that there was a level of trust and love among all three that couldn’t be dismantled.
I feel lucky to be a part of it, even if only for a short time. I could see us doing it again. I was serious when I offered, too.
They say there’s a fine line between love and hate.
I’ve been walking that line with Daisy Stiles for so long I don’t know how to stop or which way to lean.
Maybe it’s all been an act. Maybe I’ve just been some variation of in love with this girl for the better part of my life, and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it.
Wait—not in love. I’m not a romantic, in love, touchy-feely-gooey kind of guy. Never have been, never will be.
But I can be into the idea of spending as much time as I can with Daisy until she’s ready to commit to her escape.
Because she will get out one day. I won’t be the reason to make her stay somewhere she doesn’t want to be.
Miller never texted me back.
I’m now standing on Red’s front porch with a six-pack of yellow Gatorade and an open bag of Sour Patch Kids with only the red ones remaining, because those are Penelope’s favorite.
Daisy said P had a stomach bug, so she might not be up for sweets right now, but when she’s better, she will be. Right?
I don’t know shit about fuck when it comes to kids or taking care of them, but P hasn’t left my mind all day.
I don’t want to picture her down for the count, weak on the couch, pale in the face.
She’s Penelope fuckin’ Caswell, everyone’s favorite little spitfire.
She deserves to be running around, cracking jokes, and just generally messing with everyone like she always does.
I just need to get eyes on her. As soon as I know she’s okay, I won’t bother anyone further. Jesus, Beth’s rubbing off on me.
“It’s me—Gus!” I yell as I knock three times.
I pretend I don’t count the minutes it takes for Miller to make his way to the front of the house and open the door.
It was two and a half.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Miller greets me. Their family cat, Ladybug, weaves between his legs.
“Where’s P? How is she?” I ask, skipping formalities.
“Uh…” Miller leans back to peer into the living room.
Penelope, dressed in a nightgown with princess crowns all over it, comes barreling into Miller’s legs, wrapping her arms around his torso.
“Gus? I got to skip school today!” she exclaims. She releases her dad to face me.
A mixture of relief and confusion washes over me in a wave.
“P!” I squat down to get on her level. “I heard you were sick. I wanted to check on you, but you, uh, you seem fine?”
“Oh, yeah. I threw up three times. Gross.” She shudders. “But I’m all better now! Daddy stayed home with me and we watched all of the Halloweentown movies and ate Mom’s lemon chicken soup and—”
“Hold on, P. Slow down. You’re okay? You’re not sick anymore?”
Penelope gives me a classic eyeroll. “I just said that, Gussy. Whatcha got there?” She points to the plastic shopping bag dangling from my hand.
“Oh.” I hold it out for her. “Got this stuff for you. Just like—”
“Red Sour Patch!” Penelope screeches when she peers into the bag. She throws her arms around my neck. “Thanks!” She releases me, snatches the bag, and trots back into the living room, goodies in tow.
“Damn. Thanks, Gus. You didn’t have to do that. Wait, hold up. How did you know P was sick?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to weave some sort of tale that won’t end with me admitting I got my intel from Daze.
“You know Merrymount. News travels fast,” I offer.
Miller eyes me skeptically, but then shakes it off. “Penelope projectile vomited down the entire staircase this morning after Gwen left for work. I’ve just decided I don’t have the energy to figure out why you’re being weird as fuck. And I’d invite you in but…”
“Nah, I get it. I just wanted to make sure the rugrat was okay.” I wave him off.
I really am glad Penelope doesn’t seem to be suffering from the bubonic plague or some shit, but I’m also not trying to get whatever germs ran through her system.
“It’s nice you stopped by, though. You probably made her whole day,” Miller says.
I scoff. “It’s nothing. I’m gonna take off.” I step back and offer a wave. “Text the group, or whatever, about tomorrow?”
Miller assures me he will before closing the door. I’m just about back to my truck when Red’s Mini Cooper flies into the driveway like a bat out of hell.
When she emerges from her driver’s seat, I greet her. “Anyone ever tell you to slow it down?”
“Shove it, Gus,” Red snaps. “I’ve been trying to escape the café for like, two hours now with no luck. All I wanted to do was get home to my sick kid, but everyone and their goddamn brother was up my ass. Chris called out,” she explains.
“Where’s Margot?” I ask.
“I sent her home. Chris has the same bug P has, so it must be going around. I don’t want Margot sick on top of everything else she has going on. Wait, hold up—What’re you doing here?”
“Checking on your sick kid,” I say.
This gets Red to stop in her tracks, and her face softens instantly. “Really?”
I’m not even able to acknowledge her question before Red throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug.
“You big softy.” She releases me and tears shine in her eyes.
I didn’t sign up for some emotional moment. I literally was just here to assure myself Penelope was alive and well.
“Anyway, she’s fine. I’m going home before I contract whatever nastiness you got floating around your house.” I open my door and hop into the truck, starting her up.
I crank the window down to wave bye to Red when she stops me again.
“August.” A raised eyebrow has me thinking I screwed up. I’m not sure how, seeing as she was just embracing me like I pulled a kitten from a burning building.
“Yeah?” I urge.
“I told Daisy about Penelope. Only Daisy.”
I try to skirt around admitting anything. “And?”
Red’s eyes narrow.
“Bye, Gus.” She pivots and marches up the porch steps.
I brush the interaction off. Red’s running her mouth based on a hunch, and I won’t fuel that fire.