Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
dexter
FEbrUARY
Before my parents moved to Cape Elizabeth, the Sadler household was a second home. It still is.
Ted and Claire Sadler treated me like one of their own. My friendship first started with Patrick. We spent most weekends sleeping over at one another’s houses and summers wiping out on our bikes. Johanna followed not long after. She was a given, considering her relationship with Pat.
Family dinners with my best friend and his family are a part of my routine, something I rarely pass up. However, for the past three dinners, I’ve given lame excuses. Claire is a hard woman to turn down for a fourth time, especially as tonight is Jo and Pat’s engagement dinner.
Which is why I’m stuffed into my designated seat with a steaming slice of chicken pot pie in front of me.
It probably smells delicious.
The only scent I’m aware of is coconut, intoxicatingly sweet, assaulting my senses every time Florence shifts in her chair.
Because her seat has always been directly on my left.
She was the last to arrive, swatting off comments from her brothers about her tardiness. Everyone’s attention was on the newly engaged couple after that, listening to them recap the proposal. No one noticed my rigid posture or how Florence and I stopped breathing any time our elbows brushed.
We’d bumped into each other twice in the last month but never this close or for so long.
I must’ve been a real prick in a previous life, because as I reach for the salt, so does she.
Electricity shoots up my arm, and the shaker crashes to the table, both of us jerking away.
All attention snaps our way.
“Uncle Dex has butter fingers,” Lottie, Patrick’s five-year-old daughter, announces. He and Lottie’s mom are fantastic co-parents, and Jo absolutely adores the little girl as her own.
As much as she’s to blame—though she’s completely unaware—Flo appears unaffected. She snorts at her niece’s comment.
“Thanks for that, kiddo,” I say flatly and shoot the little girl a menacing stare. She doesn’t flinch, sticking her tongue out at me.
“Florence, sweetheart, how’s the job hunt going?” Claire asks from across the table.
Flo’s forkful of chicken and gravy stops an inch from her mouth. “Umm, it’s going…”
“Aly said she saw you at the grocery store in Jacob’s Blu—Ow!” Booth’s words are cut off, and he throws daggers at Aly. “What was that for?”
Claire’s hopeful gaze bounces around the table. “The grocery store? But how will you get there? Maybe it’s time to get your license. I’m sure one of your brothers—”
“Mom, don’t get excited,” Florence interrupts, lips flat. “They weren’t hiring.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay. I love having you here.” Claire smiles reassuringly. “Something will come up.”
Patrick clears his throat and unhooks his arm from Jo’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take some hours at the restaurant? The job is right there.”
It’s clear from the faraway look in her eyes that she’s trying to come up with a response. Hidden by the tablecloth, she fidgets restlessly, pinching and tugging at the skin between her fingers. No one notices she’s close to unraveling.
I’m not about to gallop in on my horse, armor shining, but sitting here while discomfort radiates off her isn’t an option either.
“No business talk. We’re interested in the wedding.” I steer the conversation elsewhere. “You said a summer wedding?”
Excited replies echo around when Jo mentions a few dates in July. I nod, pretending to follow along as my hand slinks under the table, searching for Florence’s.
It’s the last thing I should be doing.
When my fingers brush hers, there’s no thinking. I simply weave them together. She freezes, gaze forward, but then after a beat her grip tightens, pulsing once. Twice.
Thank you, she says wordlessly.
I squeeze in return. I got you.
We remain that way until dinner ends and we migrate into the living room.
She sits with the girls on the other side of the room.
Every so often, our eyes meet. Every time, she gives me a smile I haven’t seen since she was splayed out on my living room floor, glowing under the firelight, filling my solitary home with laughter.
Don’t fucking go there. She’s not for you.