8. Melanie #3
“You betcha,” I agree easily. “Looks like Jamie is selling coffee, too, and you know it’s the best stuff in town.”
“No one makes good coffee,” he argues. “The stuff tastes like feet.”
I grin. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it, and you didn’t believe me.” I slip him some cash as Rosie catches sight of us approaching, nudging Nell. “There’s enough there for something for you and Nell. Got it?”
“Got it!” He sprints toward his friend, his smile already breaking out like a sun peeking through storm clouds. He and Nell crowd around the table, picking out what treats they might like. I sidle up to Rosie’s side.
“You came,” I say with some surprise. “I thought you’d avoid this place like a plague.”
The look she sends me is sour. “I’m being the bigger person. For Nell,” she stresses, before adding in a mutter, “And my mom told me I had to come.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Oakley has been in a mood all morning, and I was about to lose my patience.”
She slides a knowing look toward me. “Is it about the neighbor?”
“No. Yes.” I grimace. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Are you and him still—” She makes a circle with one hand and pokes a finger inside it. I shoot her a horrified look as I smack her hands down, making her chuckle.
“Stop that!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She leans closer, keeping her voice low. “I don’t blame you. The man is hot.”
Shut up, I mouth, glaring at her as the kids approach us, paper bags in their hands, and a wide grin carved across Oakley’s mouth. I focus on him, relieved that his mood has improved so drastically. “Did Jamie have your lemon bars?”
“Yep! And you gave me enough to get two, and Nell got two pieces of brownie.”
My eyebrows lift because I’m pretty sure I didn’t give him that much money. I catch Jamie’s expression over his shoulder, right as she gives me a helpless shrug.
“You’re a sucker,” I tell her.
“They have wonderful manners, and they love my baking,” she defends, her smile never falling. “They can have whatever they want.”
The employee working beside her laughs, teasing, “This is how you caught your husband, isn’t it?”
Jamie blushes a bright red, making the dusting of freckles on her nose stand out. “No. Knox has terrible manners.” She looks back at Rosie and me. “You two want a hot drink?”
With our paper takeaway cups in hand, we circle the rest of the bake sale before Oakley catches sight of some of his baseball friends, dragging Nell over to see them.
Rosie taps my arm, pointing toward a craft stall.
“They’re selling dream catchers, and Nell wants one for her bedroom. I’ll be right back.”
I nod, still meandering my way around. I’ve just paused at a stall selling homemade crochet animals when a hand wraps around my arm in a brutal grip, yanking me to the side. I gasp as coffee sloshes out of my cup and over my hand, searing my skin. “What the—”
“Shut up!”
I gape at Davis as he pulls me along, eyes flickering around to make sure no one’s watching as he drags me into the shadow of the school building.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, yanking free of his bruising grip when he comes to stop.
I rub the aching spot, glaring at him. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“I need to talk to you,” he says unrepentantly. “And I don’t need an audience.”
“You mean you don’t need your girlfriend seeing us,” I retort scathingly. “You know, this could have happened when you picked Oakley up for your weekend with him, except…Oh, that’s right, you never showed up.”
He stares at me coldly. “I told you, I had something come up.”
“You always have something come up!” I throw one hand in the air, aware of the coffee in my other hand and the way my skin is stinging. “What about Oakley? When does he come up for you? When does he matter?”
“He’s my son. Of course he matters.”
“You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it.”
Davis pinches the bridge of his nose, his other hand propped on his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me about the break-in?” he asks abruptly. “I have a right to be told—”
“What right?” I cry out. “It’s none of your damn business.”
“It is if my child is in danger,” he says, voice growing louder. “Look, Melanie, maybe that house—”
I know exactly where he’s going with this, and I slash a hand between us, cutting him off. “No. Whatever you’re going to say, keep it to your damn self.”
Before he even gets the chance to say another word, I turn and hustle back to the bake sale, pasting a smile on my face when I find Oakley and Nell exactly where I left them.
“Hey, Mom, can we get…” Oakley trails off as he comes to my side, his eyes on something over my shoulder. “It’s Dad—” He bites off his words abruptly, and I turn around just as Davis reaches Marcy, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, his grin dropping to Clarissa as the girl says something to him.
“Oakley…”
He doesn’t blink, his stare never moving off his father, his voice blank as he tells me, “I’d like to go home now.” He glances at me, unable to fully hide the hurt, his voice trembling as he adds, “Please.”