Chapter 28
Daisy Darling
Talk tomorrow? I’m exhausted.
I’m so sick of rereading the text Daisy sent two fucking days ago.
I pocket my phone after checking it for the twenty-third time and continue painting one of our smaller canoes a bright shade of pink.
It’s another project for another one of these rugrats I’ve come to love so much.
The rocking chair I just finished restoring to its glory is gonna look mint in the twins’ nursery, now that it’s almost complete.
Penelope might have mentioned the other day that a pink canoe would be cool. I might have found some paint lying around and had a few minutes of spare time today to see if it was something I could make happen to surprise her with.
And by all that, I mean I marched my ass down to the hardware store, scoured the paint samples until I found the right shade of pink, grabbed some new brushes, and told everyone at the riverside to not fucking bother me for a few hours.
I’m giving Daisy space. I’m being totally fucking cool about the fact that I’m ready to lay it all out there and put my fucking heart on the line, and Daisy’s avoiding me like the newest damn plague.
Some would say not enough time has passed to consider her radio silence as avoidant. But I know I’m not wrong.
“What’s got you lost in your head, boy?” Beth calls while walking towards me with her breath puffing clouds and her hands stuffed in her front pockets, snapping me back out of my head.
I think about how Beth has let me and Daisy trot through Merrymount for months now, not mentioning a single thing about our current situation, and I realize she’s been waiting. Like a fucking lionness in the tall grass, waiting for the best possible second to pounce. This is her time to shine.
And while lying is a viable option, it’s not the one I’m taking today.
“I’m gonna tell you that you were right, so we can skip that part,” I say, laying the paint brush down.
“Ah,” Beth muses. She grabs the folding chair laid against the building and opens it to sit next to the workstation I set up for myself. “So, we’re doing this.”
“I’m out of options,” I admit.
Beth tips her nose up. “I’m always your first call. Don’t get it twisted, my boy.”
Damn, how’d she know?
“I see and know everything,” she says, reading my mind like a wise old owl we all love.
“Then you wanna cut me some slack and tell me what to do?”
“Oh, August,” Beth sighs. “You and Daisy have always been one of my most sensitive cases.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. We’re trouble. We fuck everything up. Not the first time I’ve heard it, probably won’t be the last.”
“If you’re asking for my help, you’re gonna stand there and listen. I’m not here for a sob story. I can leave.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, lowering my head in shame.
“I’m gonna ask you this once, and I don’t want you to get defensive. Hear me?”
I nod.
“Does Daisy know about the night of your arrest?”
Fuck me.
It’s the root of every problem Daisy and I have ever had. The running clock on her time in this little town doesn’t even hold a candle to how badly I dismantled everything good between us in one single night.
“No,” I answer honestly.
“This will never work then.” Beth folds her hands on her lap. “You can fuck ‘till kingdom come—”
I grimace. “Beth, please.”
“Grow up. You can do whatever the hell this is for however long, but it’s a bandaid. If you can’t address what you did and how Daisy reacted, it’ll never be anything more.”
My phone lights up with a call coming in. Hunter’s name flashes across the screen, and I’m answering it within two seconds. “Hunter?”
“Hey, Gus.” Hunter sounds out of breath on the other end of the call. “You know how you gave us your number in case of emergencies? Is there any way you’re not busy right now?”
“What the fuck’s going on, Hunter?” I ask aggressively. Didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but if this kid is calling, something’s wrong.
Beth stands abruptly, concerned etched on her face already.
“Hunter,” I repeat when he doesn’t immediately answer.
“It’s…It’s our mom. She forgot to pick us up, and I tried to call her. But she sounded funny and told us to just walk home. And we are but—”
“You’re what?”
“We didn’t make it far. Chase stopped walking and refused to move. He’s right here. All he does is hold up his phone with your number on the screen. I was going to call Daisy, but she’s been sick, and I know she just would have gotten into a fight with Mom. I’m sorry I called.”
“Send me your location right now. I’m on my way.” I end the call and start quickly gathering up the shit I have laid out.
“Go, Gus.” Beth’s hand covers my own frantic one. “I’ll get this cleaned up.”
I’m already hightailing it to my truck when I respond, “Thanks, Beth!”
“Do not under any circumstance start anything with that nasty woman! Don’t get into trouble. Just bring the boys here!” she calls.
I don’t make any promises I can’t keep because if I lay eyes on Mary Jane Stiles at any point in the near future, there’s no way I’m holding back.
Hunter and Chase are both situated in the living room with one of my old gaming systems hooked up, boxes of George’s pizza laid out on the coffee table in front of them, when I hear Daisy’s car pull up the driveway.
“I’m gonna go meet your sister outside, okay?”
Neither boy takes his face away from the screen, but both nod their acknowledgment.
I calmed myself down before I got to Hunter and Chase sitting on the side of the road, knowing they didn’t need any stress added to their already hellish day. But seeing the anguish on Daisy’s face when she flies out of her car has all of my pent up anger flooding back in at full force.
She shouldn’t be this worked up all of the time. Daisy shouldn’t be handling all of this responsibility on her own. She still looks worn down, and I know this situation won’t do anything to help that.
“Where are they?” she asks as a greeting when she barrels up the porch steps.
“Inside, perfectly fine. Hold on. Lemme talk to you.” I open my arms, and thank fuck, she immediately steps into them so I can wrap myself around her. “I haven’t seen you in days.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just had some stuff going on.” There’s a shiftiness to her voice that I’m not used to.
“Has anyone ever told you that you don’t need to take all of this on on your own?” I ask earnestly.
“No,” Daisy answers immediately.
“Why?” Seriously, why?
The way Daisy loves these boys is obvious and beautiful and unconditional.
But they’re her brothers. She should get to love them the way a sister would, not the way someone stepping in as a mother has to.
This isn’t her job. It’s not her responsibility.
There are others who could take on some of the burden, help.
“Because I’ve never told anyone,” Daisy admits softly.
“But your grandmother…She’s still…” I start and hesitate, worried I just put my foot in my mouth.
“In perfect health and still living two towns over, completely oblivious to the failures that are her daughter and son-in-law.”
“Why?” I repeat, pulling back to look at her. My hands find hers.
“Because the can of worms that would open if even a hint of the truth of the last eighteen years came out. I’d assume she’d have a freaking heart attack and drop dead on me.”
“Daisy, are you telling me she knows nothing?”
She exhales, and it’s all the answer I need, but she continues anyway.
“August—” A pause and a fidget of her fingers in mine.
She releases my grasp, and I already know her physically pulling back is just as much of a mental one.
“I thrive on control. It’s obviously borderline unhealthy, and I don’t know how to let some of those reins go, but my story is mine to tell.
And I’m extremely selective, because well, when I did talk, it landed on deaf ears.
My parents,” Daisy’s voice cracks, “didn’t believe me.
It almost killed me. I love my grandmother.
I want to be able to remember her in that light.
And as for Mary Jane’s drinking and the boys…
Well, Gram is older, in her late seventies now. This is something I can handle.”
I get it, I really do. All of it. But it’s not right, and it’s not fair.
“But Daze, you’re killing yourself staying in that house. You’re letting yourself be a barricade and punching bag.”
She twists her head like I just slapped her.
“You don’t understand,” she accuses, the mean undertone of her voice creeping in.
“Understand what?”
“Sacrifice. Giving up everything for someone else.”
“Don’t,” I snap.
“No,” she throws back at me. “At one point in our lives, we were the same. I’m not saying your upbringing wasn’t tragic or wrong. It was. But you got out.”
I push back. “You don’t get to tell me where I’ve been or what I’ve done. I’m thankful every fucking day for Sawyer and Beth. They did save me. But I gave up everything.”
Fresh tears shine in Daisy’s eyes, and I have a feeling we’re really starting to cross that invisible line we’ve created for ourselves.
“What does that even mean?” she asks.
“I let you go,” I say those four words so low they’re barely audible. “I need—I need a minute.”
And then I walk into the woods, not bothering to wait or care if Daisy follows.
Because I’ve spent over ten years holding back exactly how I feel and have always felt about Daisy Stiles, and I have no plans on letting my admissions go any further.