Chapter 19 Phoebe
NINETEEN
Phoebe
I hung onto Mouse for a few minutes longer.
Intellectually I knew something must have happened to him to make him so suspicious of people, but in my heart it hurt that he still thought I could do anything to harm him.
“You know what? Fuck him.” I mumbled into Mouse’s fur. “Fuck him.”
After he just fucked me senseless and left me floating somewhere in the rafters of my freaking studio he has to pull that bullshit. I sniffled and blinked away the tears that wanted to come. He didn’t deserve my tears. I was not going to cry over him.
The sound of a rumbling engine had me straightening.
“Shit.” I dashed away the tears that made it through.
My little sister’s Jeep came bounding down the road.
The ridiculously oversized tires looked out of place here, but worked for the forest trails and marshy areas around the lake.
Mud splattered over her door. It was barely forty degrees but she already had her hardtop and doors off.
Only a seatbelt kept her safe as she hung out the side.
“How’s my favorite sister?”
I laughed. “What are you doing over here?”
Liberty pulled up into my driveway and hopped out, her perpetually crooked ponytail sliding to the side of her head. “Well, I was over here releasing a barn owl and I thought you might have a little lunch for me?”
“I just got home, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”
She ran over to Mouse who practically leaped into her arms. Animals never could resist her. “Aren’t you the bestest and prettiest of all the boys?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t get the first hug?”
She gave Mouse a hard rub down and he hummed in ecstasy before she clomped over to me, her boots caked in what I hoped was only mud and hauled me into a hug.
I hugged her back a little longer than I should have and she pushed me back, narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“That face doesn’t say nothing.” She tipped my chin up. “And that beard burn says...well, hello.” Her attention averted over my shoulder.
I turned and swallowed down a sigh. Dutch slipped out of my studio, his gaze lowered to the ground. He jammed his hands into his pockets looking guilty as hell. Geez, his flannel was half tucked into his jeans. I widened my eyes at him and cleared my throat.
He glanced up frowning.
I stared at his zipper.
He looked down and flipped out the tail of his shirt. “Uh, hi.”
“Is this Dutch?”
He scrubbed his hands down his thighs, unclenching his fingers and shaking them out.
Liberty moved around me to look him over, then back a broad grin splitting her face. “Was I interrupting?”
“No, you were not,” I said tightly.
She instantly went from delighted to mama bear. “Or should I be kicking his ass?” She took a step toward Dutch, her fingers balling into fists.
I grabbed her arm. “Okay, throttle it back there Pikachu.”
Liberty sneered at me. “I hate when you call me that.”
“Better than Porkie,” Dutch muttered.
I snickered. The laughter breaking some of the annoyed sadness.
Liberty arched a brow at him, then to me. “Do I want to know?”
“It’s nothing. Dutch just did a very good impression of a porcupine when I first met him.” I crossed my arms under my boobs. “Now he’s just giving a cactus a run for its money.”
He winced. “I deserved that.”
“You did. Now I’m going to go hang out with my sister and talk shit about you. Go away.”
He closed his eyes and tipped back his head. “Phoebe.”
I wanted to hold onto my mad. Being a people pleaser was a pain in the ass. “Mouse, go with Dutch.”
Mouse slunk over to me, knowing something was up between us. He leaned on me for a few pets then went over to Dutch and leaned hard against his leg.
Dutch sighed and sunk his fingers into the dog’s fur. They’d both soothe each other.
Before I could cave, I turned on my heel and climbed the incline of my driveway to the side door of my house.
“I’m watching you, buddy.” Liberty clomped after me. “What did I interrupt? I’m here for the shit talking, by the way. You never gripe about anyone. It’s not natural to be so nice. Glad to see it.”
I grabbed my bag out of my truck and tossed my sister my keys. “Take off those boots before you track God knows what into my house.”
“Fine.” She attacked her laces, toeing off the work boots and knocking them into the side of my steps. Flakes of mud immediately crumbled away and flaked all over the stoop.
I sighed. At least it wasn’t inside.
She left them on the stoop and hurried inside. “You didn’t tell me the new neighbor was fine.”
“I didn’t tell you anything about him.”
“Which is why I should have been suspish.” She yelled over her shoulder.
By the time I got in the house she already had her head in my fridge.
“Go. I don’t need you burning something.”
She leaned back, a piece of deli meat already in her mouth. “What? I can just make a sandwich.”
I shooed her away. “I have tomatoes to use up. How about grilled ham and cheese with tomato?”
“I won’t say no, but I’m starving already!”
I pushed her out of the way and took a chunk of leftover mozzarella out of the fridge along with the balsamic glaze I’d made for pizza the other day with Dutch. “Sit down.”
“Fine.” She went around the kitchen island and plopped into one of the stools. “So tell me about the coffeehouse-poet-looking dude.”
I laughed. “You haven’t heard about him by now?”
“I’ve been busy with a bat rescue.” Her face brightened when I slid a plate of food in front of her. “Awesome, thanks.” She groaned. “How do you make this taste so good?”
“It’s called seasonings. You’re just used to Lunchables.”
“Don’t knock them. They hit the spot when you’re on the move.”
I sliced thick pieces of sourdough from the remaining loaf I made before I went out of town. It was stale, but I soaked it in a bit of water and revived it enough to toast it slightly before slathering it in butter and a dash of spicy mayo.
The building of the food soothed the rough edges. I’d been doing it with Dutch for weeks now. Cooking was our thing and I was cognizant of the fact that it did the same for him. We were so alike, but in wildly different ways.
“So, how long have you been hitting that?”
I dropped a slice of tomato on the floor.
“Guess that answers that.” Lib’s smug voice brought the annoyance back to the front burner.
“That’s not why I’m pissed at him. The sex part is damn good. Maybe too good.”
“Okay, bragger.”
I huffed out a laugh as I tossed the tomato into the trash before hurrying back to the stove to flip the sandwich before it went from crispy to black. “What happened to Scott?”
“He’s not worth talking about. Your guy is way more interesting.”
I turned around to snag one of the slices of mozzarella before she ate them all. Too late. “Damn, Lib.”
“Sorry. I was starving.”
“I don’t know where you put it.”
She slapped her butt. “Right there. Haven’t had any complaints though.” She winked at me.
One thing my little sister never lacked in was confidence. “Now, quit changing the subject. You were all ready to rip. What happened.”
I sighed. “What’s it going to change?”
“That’s not the point of venting.”
I plated her food and added a handful of Fritos and a pickle spear, then slid it across the island to her.
“Man, you are better than Mom times a million.”
My eyes prickled again. “She just didn’t pay attention to cooking a real meal.”
“She didn’t pay attention period. You’d think she would grab a clue now that hockey isn’t the focus of the world, and yet nope.” She crunched down on a Frito. “We can crap on Mom another day. Talk.”
“Dutch is...”
“What?”
“Hey’s carrying something.”
“Oh, don’t start that nonsense. Men are always carrying some crap and we’re supposed to just forgive it and work around it.”
“No, it’s not something like mommy issues. It’s something heavier. Something that’s literally done something to change him on a cellular level.” I didn’t know how to explain it.
“He’s not Spiderman,” she said around a bite of her sandwich.
I laughed. “No, but I don’t think he was like this even a year ago.”
“Bad breakup?” She guessed.
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” It wasn’t like he actually talked to me about his past. He seemed to want to stay in the present. The only things in the past we spoke of were the children’s history on the lake.
“Did you think about, oh…just asking him?”
“Of course I have.”
“And did you?” She chomped down on her pickle.
I sighed. “No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I can just feel that he can’t handle the question.”
She crossed her eyes. “Not the vibes thing again.”
“Hey, you have it when it comes to animals. I just happen to have it with humans.”
“It’s a far cry from knowing how to wrangle a bat and make it eat and knowing what people are feeling.”
“Don’t underplay your gifts, Lib.”
She gave me a soft smile. “You’re good for the ego.” She reached across the counter. “But it’s not your job to heal everyone. Or to put what you need on hold for a guy.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t. I mean, yes it started out as just...” I cleared my throat. I wasn’t shy about talking about sex with my sister. We were only a few years apart, but it wasn’t just sex when it came to Dutch.
Was I just seeing it through my romantic lenses?
Liberty squeezed my hand. “What happened before I showed up?”
I sighed. “He’s got trust issues. Like, borderline paranoia.”
“Maybe he got cheated on.” She peeled off the crust of the grilled cheese and wrapped it around what was left of the pickle and bit down on it. She crossed her eyes and moaned. “I don’t know what you put in bread.”
“Love. And Rosie likes to show off.”
Liberty snickered. “Only you would name your sourdough.”
“My starter.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Look it up on social media. I’m not the only one. Even Taylor Swift named hers.”
She snorted. “Of course she did. But don’t derail me. You are a master at it.”
Leave it to my sister to act like a dog with a bone. “Okay, I don’t know if you’ve heard that much about our new resident.”