10. Ambrose—present day
Ambrose—present day
S tale air greets me as I open the door, successfully closing it behind me on the first try.
I ignore the urge to do it twice more by focusing on the rancid stench that has been here since my return home all those weeks ago.
No matter how many windows I open during the day, the smell is still here the next day, along with new scribbles on my walls.
The local fuckwits need better hobbies than writing lies between patches of black mold and peeling paint.
I’d have painted over it all by now if I didn’t think more words would be there tomorrow. It’s happened twice already.
God, my mother would be wallowing in devastation right now if she weren’t six feet under and could see this place.
I can almost hear her voice, each word wavering and becoming higher pitched like it always did when something upset her.
Her voice continues in my head, rambling on about how this house—her pride and joy—has all but fallen to ruin. She’d hate it and hate the scribbles that said I was too close to one family member, too.
My sweet Dollie.
Those people weren’t wrong in thinking I was a little too close to her.
They just couldn’t fucking know exactly what feelings we shared. She didn’t even know.
So how could they know what we’d been to each other.
A lifeline.
Maybe that’s why, without her, I want to fucking die.
The low hum of her voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I take the first step into the reading room and head to the kitchen, pulled along by her odd tune.
Dust and wood shavings line the soles of my boots as one foot continues in front of the other.
I fucking hate mess, but yesterday afternoon, after returning home from Mrs. Bannadosi’s house and replacing the window—the pane and glass—I’d been too tired to spend the next god knows how many hours trying to get the house to my level of clean.
So, I’d left it to fester on the floor and in my mind. It’s been fucking torture.
More and more assumptions on the wall greet me as I get deeper into the room.
Ambrose La’Darragh fucked his sister and killed his parents because they caught him pinning her down and didn’t approve.
Local scum murdered his parents because they wouldn’t let him rape his sister.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen these lies. No new ones have been written for a good twelve hours, but fuck, the words still sting almost as much as the truth. I guess the bastards went in for the kill this time.
But it never happened like that. I never ended my parents’ lives because they caught me defiling my little sister. I never touched Dollie like that.
Dollie, who is here in this house, only two rooms away from me.
I drift into the dining room—a space I hate because it screams of family time.
Quiet steps take me through the room, my boots avoiding the creakier boards as I continue toward her voice.
Each step makes my heart ache more, and my nervous fingers rub it away.
Am I happy she’s home? Should I be?
A wall separates me from the girl who ignored all my letters. Who saw that I needed someone more than ever and turned her back.
The pain she caused haunts me… until I see her, and everything, the past, the anger, the hurt, it all melts into a blur around her.
Messy hair and a pink apron, with frosting on her nose, bring a smile to my lips. She looks the same, but older, curvier, beautiful, and kinda like Mom.
And she’s home.
I knew it last night. The strong scent of chocolate and roses that is perfectly Dollie was the dead giveaway.
I’d wanted nothing more than to stalk through this house and find her. To tell her I was here, too. To demand to know how the fuck she could just cut ties like I meant nothing to her when she was still my everything.
I’d found her at the door, take-out food overpowering her sweeter scent.
But I’d chickened the fuck out.
Memories attacked me, those letters and inked struggles that never got a reply.
She’d given up on me years ago, and there I was, lurking in the shadows with a still-bleeding arm, desperate to see her.
Nothing would have made me feel better about that, and I didn’t have the strength to drop to my knees and beg her to talk to me when I don’t even talk because it would only make me feel worse if she turned her back on me again.
The whole thing made me sour. So, instead, I disappeared back into the darkness before she could see me.
Exhausted from the emotions fighting inside me, I’d trailed back to my room, ignoring all the bloodstains and memories that haunted the second floor, and I went to bed with a plan of getting up early to face my fucking fears.
I thought I’d be fine after a few hours of sleep.
Of course, I couldn’t fucking sleep with too many thoughts of her on my mind, finally closing my eyes around six-thirty-five. Twenty-five minutes before my alarm went off, it was buzzing too close to my ear to ignore.
Dollie had already made her own disappearing act by then. So, I went out, too, out to fix a stuffed animal who is about to play mediator for our reunion.
And now that that’s done, I’m here, standing in this room with a chest full of anxiety and Dollie’s favorite possession tucked under my arm, restuffed and dressed in a new yellow tie for her sensory pleasure.
“Do not do that.” Her fake, people-pleasing laugh drifts through the house and into my ears. It rids me of all feelings of animosity.
The dependent thing, it has to go. We should be able to live separately.
But I can’t help my feelings.
“I wanna take these into town. Hand them out to locals. Maybe it can drum up some business.” She lifts a baking tray of colorful cupcakes, all of which look and smell incredible.
Pressure in my throat rises. Is that what she does now? Makes cupcakes.
“I’m still in awe that the oven here works.”
Is she talking to me?
“You’ve eaten two of them. Stop.”
My eyebrows dip with the weight of new emotions when I hear his voice. Shane. She’s still with that weird kid from her teens.
No fucking way.
I glance down, expecting to see my actual heart slowly ceasing to beat on the floor because I feel it drop.
“They are actually quite nice.”
Quite nice? God, he always knew how to give a half-hearted compliment. It’s one of the reasons I hate him.
“If you’re giving them away, I don’t think anyone would toss them.”
I blink at his stupidity, staring around the frame of the door. The kitchen is covered in cupcake supplies.
“I’m shocked about the oven, too, and that someone put food in the cupboards.”
“There’s probably been squatters. Maybe we should call someone to check upstairs?”
“I can look.”
“No. You can’t leave me here by myself.”
“For fuck’s sake, Lancie. I’d only be going upstairs.” Shane picks up another cupcake, and before he takes it to his lips, his waistband judges him for it. He unbuttons his pants, and that’s my cue to put my eyes back on Dollie.
Hopefully, he’s just relaxing his overfilled stomach and has no plans to defile her on the kitchen counter.
If his dick comes out in my kitchen, I don’t think I’ll ever eat in there again. I relax. The sound of him chewing is confirmation that no additional dicks are about to be loose in my house. Still, only him.
He’s enough.
That feeling of relaxation slips away, replaced by a random thought that she’s seen that part of him.
It’s been ten fucking years.
She’s probably seen all parts of him.
Done all sorts of things with him.
They could be married.
They could have kids.
I find myself looking around to see anything that would hint at their lives.
There are no toys around, but there is nothing unusual around.
The minimal shit here is mine.
Fear crawls inside me. That can’t be her life. The cruel voice in my head forgets the mess and taunts that it is.
“I definitely don’t think anyone would turn these down for free.” He finishes up the third cupcake.
“Shane.” There’s pain in her voice as she pulls me back to her. “I worked on these for two hours.”
“I know. I took you to get the stuff, and I’ve had to stay here the whole time because you’re afraid to be left alone in case the ghosts get you.” He looms over her, hands in the air as if that makes him look spooky.
Dollie cowers but still pushes at his chest for a little distance.
She hates crowding.
How the fuck could he not know that?
The space between them stays the same, as he doesn’t budge, and it straightens my spine.
What the fuck is he doing? Trying to intimidate her?
Why do that to a girl? Use your strength to bring protection, not fear.
“A little space, please.”
“God, what’s your problem?” He looms that little bit closer, then closer until she jumps. Finally, he backs off before my teeth grind to dust.
“I told you that in confidence,” she whispers.
“Why are you whispering? Are you afraid they’ll hear you?” He stuffs another chocolate-frosted cake into his mouth.
The look of deflation on her face could kill me if I stared at her long enough.
They can’t be married. They can’t share children.
She isn’t fucking his.
“Look,” he talks with a full mouth, and a sickly taste fills my mouth.
My nostrils flare as I see the spit and all it carries flying out.
“I know coming back here was rough. The stuff on the walls in here, in there, the nightmares last night after sleeping on that shitty sofa.”
What the fuck is wrong with my sofa?
“The worry of having to face your freak brother.”
My mouth dries at those words.
She’s worried about seeing me? The only person with whom she ever felt comfortable. That doesn’t even make sense.
Anxiety bubbles up my throat, but I swallow it down to listen to whatever else this dipshit has to say.
“But forget him for now. We’ll go to the prison and talk to him together and have this place sold before he even gets out.”
Oh, so they haven’t heard I’m home two years early for good behavior, under the condition that I meet weekly with my shrink and probation officer.
The quick kiss he gives her, with the slobber of wet chocolate-covered lips, rings in my ears. But her turning her head away sends a thrill up my spine.
I step back, avoiding her line of sight.
“I don’t want kisses right now.”
Good girl. You don’t want his kisses.
His lip print on her cheek makes me cringe.
“You just ate half of my cupcakes.”
“I took four.”
“And basically, told me they were average.”
“Lancie, don’t do this. I said they were fine. I know you find it difficult being back, but don’t take it out on me. You have way more than half left. Don’t be so spoiled.”
Her dipped shoulders and downcast gaze have my anger boiling.
“Maybe I am. I’m sorry.”
She isn’t spoiled. Her feelings are justified. So, why the fuck is she sorry?
My anger continues to boil.
I fucking hate Shane and would love an actual reason to waltz into the kitchen and hit him until his teeth ping out and roll under the cabinets.
But that wouldn’t please Dollie, who doesn’t want to see me for whatever reason, or my probation officer.
“It is hard being here.” Tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, Dollie showcases an engagement ring but no wedding band.
A wave of relief washes through me after my stomach takes a quick dive.
It could be worse.
I hate Shane slightly less because nothing between them is legally binding. Not much, but slightly.
“Are you still okay to drive me back into town?” she asks him.
“Sure,” he shrugs.
“And you’ll ask people to try the cupcakes?”
He pauses and raises a questioning eyebrow.
“I just struggle with new people. You know that.” She doesn’t make eye contact with him.
I suppose neither of us has grown out of our struggles. Dad was wrong in saying we would.
“You struggle with all people. You’ve known this town for twenty years.”
“Will you do it, please?” Dollie begs. Actually begs.
“Fine,” he agrees. But he isn’t happy about it.
“But you’re gonna have to build your confidence at some point.
And I don’t mean to talk to estate agents or your brother to sign the house over, because even I’m hoping that maybe you won’t have to talk to him, and that’ll take the pressure off a little and allow you to not be so on edge?
Hmm? Who knows, maybe my mom was right, and he lost his rights when he shoved that blade into your mom’s throat and dad’s stomach. ”
No, I didn’t, and I won’t be signing shit.
“That would be better for you, right? I mean, you don’t want to see him after what he put you through?”
“I don’t wanna see him.” She sniffles. “I can’t see him. But I do wanna go to town now.”
The damp air attacks my lungs as I suck in big breaths through flared nostrils, attempting to forget the crawling sensation on my skin and the heat rolling down my cheeks as my anger now clouds my senses. I squeeze Duggan until his stitching almost pops.
Shit… I check him over, and he’s fine. Thank God because I can’t be the one to break Dollie’s heart, and that would do it.
She wouldn’t understand my reasons for abusing the poor toy.
Shane is the reason. The reason Dollie doesn’t speak to me. The reason she turned her back on me is because of him.
She’s brainwashed.
She doesn’t even realize that he says things a certain way just to see the pretty sheen of tears gloss her eyes.
I would never.
Stepping away, I move back through the reading room, not waiting to hear the wobble in her voice if she says something else.
The floorboards creak under my weight because I don’t give a shit about who hears what right now.
I pause in the foyer.
The music room would be a fine place to leave Duggan, and I contemplate it as I stare down at the stuffed toy in my hands.
Dollie lost and found him there many times when we were kids.
But she won’t today.
I climb the stairs with him in hand because I need him more.