Chapter 18
The house was quiet when I let myself in; the door clicking shut behind me. I kicked off my shoes, still buzzing from a head full of plans for the rink fundraiser.
“Ty?” I said, looking in the kitchen for him.
I was quickly discovering he was a man who thrived on routine.
Each night after Junie went to bed, he cleaned the kitchen, started the laundry, then sat on the couch to watch sports.
Some nights it was baseball, others tennis, or soccer, or golf.
From what I could tell, he liked anything with a scorecard.
He didn’t answer, and the kitchen was empty, save for a note stuck to the air-fryer on the counter.
Thought you might want this.
Curiosity got me, and I opened the small appliance to find a cheeseburger waiting inside. It was still warm, cheese melted over the sides, and I couldn’t help but grin. As if this weren’t thoughtful enough, when I grabbed the plate he’d left nearby, there was a small packet of mayo on top.
My heart felt lighter than it had any reason to, given the circumstances, the longer I looked at the stupid little burger.
But this seemed to encapsulate everything I liked about Ty.
He wasn’t loud with his affections. He wasn’t flashy or demanding. He was constant.
And with each passing day, I was coming to realize just how special that was.
I put the burger on the plate, then spread the mayo over the top, thinking about that first night.
Rowdy’s head poked out of Junie’s bedroom door as I crept down the hall. “Hey, handsome.” I crouched to ruffle the fur around his neck. “Where’s everybody hiding?”
He huffed, then limped back into the bedroom.
I followed him, my steps soft on the wooden floor and a smile already tugging up at the corners before I saw them.
Ty lay stretched across the top of Junie’s bed, one arm thrown protectively over her small frame. Junie was out cold, her constellation light throwing slow-moving stars across the ceiling.
Like this, he looked peaceful. The hard edges I expected were gone, softened by sleep. He shifted just enough that I saw his hand wrapped around Junie’s, and the sight undid me.
Not the mustache.
Not the messy hair.
Not the body.
But that.
The tenderness of it. The way this man—who didn’t owe her a damn thing—had become her anchor in a storm I could barely stand in myself. He looked so solid, so heartbreakingly gentle, holding my niece as if she were his own.
Needing to preserve this moment, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture. It was just a quick shot—the stars, Junie’s little hand, the curve of Ty’s arm around her.
Before I thought about what I was doing, I opened my messages.
Daisy
brB just died of cuteness overload
The second I hit send, the truth hit like a gut punch.
I’d sent it to Violet.
My chest tightened. My vision blurred.
I locked my phone and pressed it to my chest, swallowing the lump in my throat. Rowdy nosed my hand, sensing the shift.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I know.”
I turned off the hallway light and backed out, closing Junie’s door with care. My phone buzzed in my palm, but I knew it wasn’t Violet, and that was the only person I wanted to talk to tonight.
In my room, I sank down on the edge of the bed and let the silence hit me. The laughter from girls’ night. The fundraiser plans. The way I’d smiled and pretended the world wasn’t falling apart.
But it was.
And it had.
Everything I’d been avoiding for a week all pressed down at once, heavy and unrelenting.
Violet wasn’t coming back.
Junie needed me.
Ty was… I didn’t even know anymore.
And tonight, I couldn’t ignore any of it.
The doorbell woke me up the next morning after a terrible night’s sleep.
Rowdy barked from down the hall, and I groaned, shoving tangled hair out of my face. The house was otherwise quiet, and I blinked against the harsh morning light streaming through my blinds.
When the doorbell rang again, I dropped my feet to the floor.
“Okay okay, I’m coming,” I sighed, already tugging on Ty’s sweatshirt as I padded toward the entryway.
A delivery driver waited on the porch, holding a clipboard and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Delivery for Daisy Winslow?”
I signed, rubbing a sleeve over my face after a night of the worst sleep I’d had in weeks. “That’s me.”
With too much pep in his step for this early in the morning, the driver jogged back to his truck, then wheeled two boxes up the walk. They were taped tight and stacked like the world’s least sentimental monument.
When the truck drove off, I stood there, the sound of the engine fading down the gravel drive while chilly air rushed around my bare legs.
Two boxes. That was it.
Two boxes to hold everything from the apartment I’d shared with Lauren.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered to myself as I inspected the boxes. Each one had D. Winslow scrawled in black ink, handwriting I didn’t recognize.
I hadn’t heard from my horrible ex-roommate since I’d left Chicago a little over a week ago, which was now hitting me in full force. Sure, I’d trusted her to get me my things like any decent human, but maybe I’d given her too much credit.
Even if whoever had packed these boxes was a Tetris master, there was no way my closet, let alone my bookshelves, would fit in two boxes. The furniture had come with the room, so I wasn’t worried about that, but where was the rest of it?
With a deep sigh that hinted at the rage bubbling up in my chest, I stormed back down the hall into my room to grab my phone.
My hands shook as I stabbed Lauren’s name, then stomped back to the foyer, slid on my shoes, and closed the front door behind me. It went to voicemail, so I hung up and dialed again. She didn’t wake until well after noon most days, but I was beyond caring if I disrupted her beauty sleep.
“Daisy?” Lauren answered after the fourth phone call. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck?” I nearly screamed into the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Where’s the rest of my stuff?”
“Did you not get your boxes?”
“I got two boxes, yes. But where’s the rest of it, Lauren?”
I ripped the tape off the first box only to find a picture frame lying on top, the glass cracked over a picture of Violet, Junie, and me.
A bitter laugh tore through me, my skin buzzing with energy.
“Your clothes were all so ratty, I told the maid to take them. It was time for a new wardrobe, Daisy. You’re welcome.”
My hands tightened on my phone, my teeth near cracking I held my jaw so tight. “You—you donated all of it?”
“No one should wear clothes that old. I did you a favor.”
My pulse hammered in my veins as I ripped open the second box, glancing inside at the throw pillows from my bed… and nothing else.
“Where are my books?”
“Daisy, calm down—”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! You had Daddy get me fired because you were too much of a coward to see me at any of your little events! To be reminded that you are an awful human.”
“You think I’m awful?” Lauren squawked. “You didn’t even try to pack your stuff! You just left an address and skipped town. I had to hire someone to come do it for you—which I’ll be charging you for, by the way—and had to postpone my party!”
“Because my sister died!” I screamed, sharp and broken.
It was the first time I’d said those words aloud, and they ripped the last of my denial straight out of me.
“She’s dead, and I can’t bring myself to go pick up her ashes, let alone breathe.
But yes, tell me about how much I’ve inconvenienced you. ”
“I didn’t know—”
I paced across the porch as Rowdy barked at my tone. “Excuse me for ever expecting you’d be nice just because. I don’t know why I expected anything more. You are, quite literally, the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“Jesus, Daisy. You don’t have to be so rude.”
A clatter from the driveway made me glance over—a hen had escaped the coop again, flapping and squawking like she was cheering me on. Cluck Norris strutted out behind her, chest puffed and ready for a fight.
“Don’t test me,” I hissed, pointing at him. “Not today, Satan.”
“Who the hell are you talking to?” Lauren asked.
“The devil incarnate!” I shouted. “You’d get along great.”
“Daisy—”
I hung up. Hard.
My pulse throbbed in my ears. I stood in the middle of the porch, paralyzed by the anger bubbling up in me, struggling to pull oxygen in and out of my lungs.
Ty’s old truck turned into the driveway, driving toward me. Dust flew up behind his tires until he stopped by the porch and walked toward me.
“What?” I barked as he studied me a beat too long.
With a shake of his head, he walked by. Before anger for his callous judgment could even surface in me, he came out again with a pair of work gloves, a mask, and safety glasses.
I blinked at him, more than a little confused.
He held them out to me. “Maybe it’s time to break some shit.”
I stared. “You’re serious?”
“You look like you’re about to explode.”
Cluck Norris crowed again, probably loving the sound of chaos and destruction.
Ty jerked his head toward Violet’s house. “Junie’s with Stevie and the kids at the library this morning. We have a few hours.”
I exhaled shakily. “Oh.”
“Ready?”
No.
Not even kind of.
But this energy bubbling inside me needed somewhere to go. I was too wired, too angry, too tired of trying to hold everything inside.
The walk down to Violet’s house felt longer than usual. My breath came out in short bursts, my chest feeling like it was about to crack. By the time we reached the refinished porch, I trembled with more than a morning chill.
Ty stopped beside me. “Do you want me to come inside with you?”
“No,” I said, but that was a lie. “Yes.”
The key turned with a familiar click. I hesitated, then shoved the door open, the hinges groaning in protest.
The house looked the same as it had the last time I’d been here—half-finished, half-forgotten. Violet’s death lingered in every corner, daring me to face it.
Ty followed me inside, silent but steady.