Chapter 17
Trevor
Trevor
Did you get things figured out with security?
Titus
All handled. Get back to whatever you were doing.
Or whoever.
Trevor
Fuck you.
Titus
I’m serious. You deserve to take some time for yourself. Turns out it’s not as world ending as I thought it was.
Istare at my brother’s words in the shadowy darkness of my car. At one point in time, Titus and I worked similar hours.
All of them.
But since Mariah came into his life, bringing along their twins for the ride, that’s changed.
He’s no longer always online, or forgoing sleep in favor of endlessly staring at his computer.
I’m happy for him. Glad he was able to find the sort of happiness that was ripped from him at such an early age.
The sort of happiness I’ve never even come close to possessing.
I thought that meant I wouldn’t want it. That since I’d never had a taste of what it could be like, I’d never crave a bite of my own.
I was clearly wrong. So wrong, I’m spending yet another night sitting in my car, barely dozing, as I watch over Maren and Zara.
I decide not to respond to Titus’s final text.
I don’t know what I would say anyway. Instead, I open the browser and look up the animal Zara requested.
I assumed it was something cute and cuddly and furry, with big eyes and a fluffy tail.
At least, that’s what I figured most little girls would find so adorably cute they’d want one.
I was wrong.
It looks like a giant groundhog with resting bitch face.
The semi-aquatic rodent isn’t ugly, but it’s also not the kind of thing I’d imagine Zara would want to snuggle up on the couch with. It’s also not cut out for Wyoming winters, so I’m not seeing one in Maren’s little sister’s future.
Miniature cows on the other hand…
By the time my lids start to get heavy, I’ve found a handful of breeders within driving distance who sell the shaggy, stupidly cute animals. Makes sense why Titus offered to get one for Mariah.
Rubbing my burning eyes, I set my phone on the console and tilt back the seat, staying just upright enough I still have a line of sight to Maren’s trailer.
I’m just drifting off when the chime alerting me to movement outside has me jerking awake, blinking hard as I try to clear the haze of sleep from my eyes.
I lean forward, peering across the distance between us until I find the culprit.
A man is walking his dog, and the mutt decided Maren’s front yard was the perfect place to drop a load.
I watch, glaring in anticipation as I wait for the animal to finish. If that asshole doesn’t clean up his dog’s mess, I swear to God—
The pup finishes and the guy pulls out a baggie. Crouching, he scoops up the shit and ties off the opening, carrying it with him as they continue on.
Good. I’m relatively comfortable and would have been pissed as hell if I had to leave the warmth of my vehicle to kick someone’s ass in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, even though no ass-kicking was required, I’m still amped up and can’t fall back asleep, so I grab my phone and start scrolling.
This time in search of a place to order dinner from tomorrow.
“Seriously?” Maren looks at the bag clutched in my hands, brows lifting as her eyes come to my face. “You know she would have gone apeshit over chicken nuggets and fries, right?”
I smile. “Who says there aren’t fries in here?”
I get that bringing food from the nicest steakhouse in the area might be a little much, but I’m willing to bet every penny I have Maren would never splurge on something like this.
And while beans on toast was shockingly delicious—and something I will be eating again—tonight, we’re getting a little fancier.
I pass Maren as she continues frowning, carrying the giant shopping bag holding our dinners to the small table where Zara is already parked, surrounded by piles of thread and beads.
I look over the mess, trying to make sense of what she’s doing. “Are you sewing?”
Zara cackles like I’m a fucking idiot who just said the dumbest thing she’s ever heard. “No, silly. I’m making bracelets for my friends at school.”
“Really?” I set the bag down, my eyes catching on a collection of beads twisted together into a small circle. “You can make bracelets?”
I don’t have any experience with kids outside of the twins—who aren’t even a year old yet—and Birdie, who’s not quite two. While Birdie can talk and says more and more words every day, she’s not to the point where she can construct anything on her own.
Besides a shit that will peel the paint off the walls.
“What else can you make?” I separate the sides of the bag, popping the brown paper loose from the staples sealing in the heat.
“I can paint and draw, and Maren said if I don’t get in trouble for talking at school again, she’ll get me a pottery wheel.” Zara is so excited about the possibility, she’s bouncing in her seat.
“A pottery wheel?” I glance at Maren as she comes to stand beside me, looking over everything I’m pulling from the bag. “Aren’t those pretty big?”
“She just wants one of the little ones they sell as a kit.” Maren pops open the lid of a container marked with S/A Dip. She gasps a little at the sight of a perfectly baked portion of spinach and artichoke dip. “You got an appetizer too?”
“I got two appetizers.” I shrug when she narrows her eyes at me. “Didn’t know what you guys liked.” I pass over the container of roasted Brussels sprouts topped with a sweet and savory drizzle. “Plus, I figured you would want to be sure Zara had at least a little bit of vegetable.”
It’s something my mother has always been hyperfixated on. Making sure we don’t just eat enough, but that we also get the right things. That’s not to say there wasn’t room for dessert.
Because I also got that.
Maren wrinkles her nose at the Brussels sprouts. “I think I might have to take a hard pass on those.”
That surprises me. “Really?” Brussels sprouts are sort of having a moment right now, and I figured Maren would be thrilled I brought them.
Her grimace deepens. “They aren’t my favorite.”
“Maren only likes cucumbers, peas, and salad.” Zara reaches out, grabbing the container I set down. “But I like them.”
I’m thrilled Zara is happy with my choice, but completely fucking confused to discover Maren’s pallet is so limited. “The only vegetables you eat are cucumber, peas, and lettuce?”
“She didn’t say I don’t eat them.” Maren grabs the bag I’ve stopped unpacking. “She said I don’t like them.”
I watch Zara happily plowing through the crisp, but tender sprouts, even more impressed with Maren than I was five minutes ago.
She’s clearly put in the effort to make sure her little sister doesn’t have the same preferences she does.
Probably going so far as to eat things she doesn’t enjoy just to make sure her sister tries them.
But I’m still shocked Maren’s taste buds are so limited. “Has it always been that way?”
Maren pops the lid off a container, peering in at one of the steak and baked potato meals. “Has what always been that way?”
I take the container from her hands since it holds the larger portion of steak I selected for myself. “Have you always not liked vegetables?”
Maren pulls another meal free, finding one of the four ounce fillets, this one with fries. “I don’t know. I didn’t really have them as a kid.”
I chuckle, imagining my mother’s reaction if I’d told her I wasn’t eating vegetables as a kid. “I’m surprised you got away with that. My mother would have throttled me.”
Maren goes to the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors from the drawer before returning. There’s an odd expression on her face. One I can’t quite make sense of. Combined with her sudden silence, I have to think I’ve said something wrong.
Except she’s not trying to shank me with the scissors, so maybe I don’t understand what’s happening after all.
Maren uses the scissors to cut the steak up into manageable pieces for Zara, then passes it over, her silence dragging out as she goes back into the kitchen.
This time I follow her, cornering her at the far end.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” I’m admittedly not fantastic at this sort of thing, and when Maren’s eyes flash, I take a deep breath before amending. “Please.”
Maren’s gaze holds mine, and for a second I think she’s going to give me what I want.
But then she steps around me, planting an elbow in my ribs as she goes. It’s more of a nudge than a jab, so maybe she’s not as upset as I think.
“This is really yummy.” Zara’s mouth is as full as she can get it, crammed with what appears to be a combination of Brussels sprouts, fries, and steak. “You should make dinner tomorrow too.”
“Deal.”
I don’t hesitate. Not just because I like making sure Maren and Zara are well fed, and not because it’s more fun being in here with them than sitting in my car, but because I don’t like the lingering look of sadness on Maren’s face.
And it’s clearly going to take me some time to figure out why it’s there.
“Trevor doesn’t have time to be feeding us every night.” Maren takes her seat at the table, expression stern.
I take my own chair, matching the look on her face. “Yes, he does.”
I don’t know if it’s technically the truth. Obviously I should have been at the office last night instead of parked outside Maren’s house. But everything worked out, so it shouldn’t hurt anything for me to stop by again tomorrow. And maybe the next day.
Maren slams both hands on the table, sighing loudly as she looks across at me. “You can’t keep sleeping in your car every night.”
I give her a smile as I lift a bite of steak to my mouth, “Are you inviting me to stay inside?”
Maren scoffs. “Absolutely not.” She shovels up a pile of loaded baked potato. “I’m telling you to go home.”
“What does your house look like?” Zara interrupts from where she sits, hoarding her meal and both appetizers. “Do you have two bathrooms?”