24. Ember
TWENTY-FOUR
EMBER
There was an argument happening two floors below. Jack’s voice boomed through the house, the words muffled. Darby’s was shrill and angry.
Sleep made my thoughts hazy as I struggled to claw myself to wakefulness.
For a moment, I froze. My body remembered my father’s rage.
The cruel things he’d shout at me when I’d disappointed him by simply being myself.
The way he’d made me feel small. Like I would forever be a burden to him—to everyone.
Then I woke fully, and I told myself that he was dead. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. I forced myself to swing my legs off the bed. My whole body ached from yesterday’s action, but I still crept to my bedroom door and cracked it open.
“I said no, Darby.”
“Dad! It’s not fair!”
“Life isn’t fair,” he snarled. “Deal with it. I need to go to work.”
The door slammed, and I heard a sob.
Oh my god.
We were back at the house. We’d picked Darby up from Gideon’s apartment last night and come here.
Jack had asked me if I minded hanging out with Darby this morning since he had to do some work for the whole Blanchard/Spider/Reaper mess, and of course I’d said I was happy to.
We still didn’t know who had paid Spider to target Jack and his company, and this wouldn’t be over until we found out.
Looking after Darby was an easy way for me to help.
I loved spending time with her…but I hadn’t thought it would start like this.
Wrapping a robe around myself, I hurried downstairs. I peeked in the living room, glancing at the plywood covering the window opening, and didn’t see her. Finally, I found Darby curled in a dining chair, her face in her hands. Her body shook with sobs.
For a second, I was disgusted with Jack. Then I went to Darby.
“Hey,” I said, dragging another chair next to hers. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“He won’t let me go to Vikki’s party,” she wailed. “He wants me to play that stupid recital.”
“Oh,” I said, wrapping my arms around her trembling body. “Oh, Darby.”
“I hate playing piano! I hate it.” She threw herself at me and sobbed on my shoulder, her arms clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. My heart shattered for her.
It was terrible timing. Jack was under so much pressure, and I could understand him dismissing Darby’s concerns.
Yes, it was just her friend’s birthday party, and in the grand scheme of things, missing it wasn’t the worst thing that could or would happen in her life.
But she was a thirteen-year-old girl, and this was her world.
Missing the party was a huge deal, especially when the reason she was missing it was a recital for an instrument she hated playing.
I remembered being made to feel small and powerless. I remembered feeling like my life was meaningless and my desires weren’t worth considering.
Jack didn’t berate and insult his daughter the way my father had done to me—he didn’t torment her and shatter her spirit the way I’d endured—but with this, he’d hurt her deeply.
I wondered if he realized. I wondered if, once the dust settled, he’d try to repair this rupture, or if he’d just push her aside once again.
Darby straightened and wiped her cheeks. She looked miserable. Like her little heart was crushed to a pulp.
The only thing that helped me when I felt like that was either working or eating something delicious. I didn’t think Darby would find it funny if I suggested she do her algebra homework, so I said, “You want to go get a hot chocolate at Knead More Bread?”
She blinked at me with big, glassy eyes. “We’re not allowed to go in there because Caroline hates my uncle Knox.”
I smiled. “We’re allowed now.”
Her brows arched. “Really? Why?”
I squeezed her shoulders. “Because I’m really, really good at trivia.”
Knead More Bread smelled like sugar, fresh bread, and coffee.
It was heaven in an aroma. My shoulders softened, and some of the stress from yesterday finally began to leak out of me.
Darby looked around with big eyes, like we were entering a dreamland.
Caroline stood behind the espresso machine, and she glanced up from the jug of milk in her hands to smile at us.
“Morning,” she said. Her eyes slid to Darby. “Hey, girl.”
Darby stood straighter and glared at her, all teenage bravado. “Ember says we’re allowed in here because she’s really good at trivia.”
Caroline laughed, and it transformed her from intimidating to magnetic.
I couldn’t help but smile in response, arching my brows at my new friend.
Caroline rolled her eyes, but she was clearly still amused.
“Fine, fine,” she grumbled. “You do one good deed for a woman who likes matcha and now the whole place is overrun with Marses.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what the matcha comment was about, but I thought it might have to do with Gideon and Sadie. They were the only Marses who were exempt from Caroline’s ban. Well, they used to be the only ones. Now there was me and Darby.
“They grow on you,” I said, thinking of the way my feelings for Jack and Darby had ballooned over the past month.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Caroline grumbled. “They’re like mold.”
I laughed and nodded at the cashier. “We’ll have one pot of black tea, one hot chocolate, and half a dozen assorted donuts. Oh, and one of those cinnamon rolls too. And maybe a loaf of that sourdough.” I glanced at Darby. “I think we’re out of bread.”
Was I eating my feelings? Sure. But Caroline’s donuts were really good, and I was an adult with a good job who could afford to buy too many pastries when I needed to eat my feelings.
“Sure,” the cashier chirped. “What size for the hot chocolate?”
I looked at Darby. Darby looked at me. “Large?” she said hopefully.
Shrugging, I said, “Whatever you want.”
Darby gave me a tiny, pleased smile, and we stood to the side while they prepared our order.
I was pretty sure I was modeling unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I didn’t care.
I really wanted a donut. I tucked the bread into my bag and nodded my thanks at the box of pastries, and then we claimed a table in the front corner of the space to enjoy our treats.
The first sip of my tea was divine. I wiggled my fingers over the box of donuts and chose a Boston cream.
Darby went for classic chocolate glazed.
We each took a bite and looked at each other with bright eyes.
Yum. Darby’s shoulders eased, and I waited until she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied groan before I spoke.
Half the donuts were gone, and our drinks were down to the dregs.
“Tell me about the piano thing,” I said. I couldn’t solve the mystery of who had hired Spider, but maybe I could solve this.
Darby scowled. “It’s boring.”
“But your dad wants you to play?”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s so annoying about it. But he makes me do it, and it just makes me hate it more.”
“Did you try speaking to him?”
“He wouldn’t listen!”
I nodded.
She looked at me, blue-eyed and wounded. She reminded me so much of myself. “I don’t want to play piano anymore, Ember.”
“Why not?”
“I never wanted to! I’m not that good at it, and I have to spend so much time practicing when I could be doing other things. He makes me do all these theory tests, and they’re so boring and hard.”
I wanted to give Jack the benefit of the doubt, so I said, “Sometimes doing hard things is worth it.”
“Not this,” she answered, vehement. “I like basketball and that’s hard. I run cross-country and that’s really hard. I even like math now that it makes a little more sense, and you know how hard that was for me.”
She was right. I did know. I’d spent hours sitting at that kitchen table beside her while she struggled through algebra.
“Well,” I said slowly, pursing my lips, “you don’t have to play piano if you don’t want to.
” She squinted at me, and I shrugged. “You’re old enough to make some decisions for yourself.
” When I was thirteen, I would’ve killed for a little agency over my own life.
I’d buried myself in schoolwork and chased the perfect report card just to feel like I could control something—and to avoid the barrage of criticism that would come my way if I slipped.
It had been a crushing, thankless amount of pressure.
It had made me retreat into myself and push people away when I should have been making friends and learning how to interact with people.
Sure, a perfect GPA had gotten me into college with a partial scholarship.
Now I had a good job. But what else did I have?
A clean apartment and a decent emergency fund?
Until I’d come to Marswood Harbor, I hadn’t even had a single friend. My grand plan had been to give a middle finger to my dead father by taking his money. How pathetic was that? What kind of motivation was that for a life?
It hadn’t been happiness, or fulfillment, or family, or community, or good of any kind. I’d just wanted to have one single win over the old man who’d made my childhood a lonely, isolated hell.
He was gone now. Why did he still have so much control over my life?
Darby had her face mashed up against her hand as she slumped over the table. She sighed. “My dad will lose it if I refuse to play.”
“Maybe it’s time he learns that you’re growing up and you have a mind of your own,” I told her.
The door to the bakery opened, and in shuffled Ivan Popov, the antiques dealer. His eyes cut to me and Darby, and he scowled. “Left you alone to take care of his kid, did he?” He scoffed. “I’m not surprised. That man will do anything to avoid doing what’s right.”
I straightened. I’d had just about enough of this old man. I’d never done a thing to him, and he’d been nothing but rude to me. Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “Who peed in your cereal this morning?”
Darby snorted.
I didn’t like the way Ivan glared at her, so I said, “I asked you a question.”