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“Head on in, Al. We’ll be there in a second,” Bruce tells me, his voice cold and his eyes on Bobby.
I climb out and walk in front of the vehicle. I pause, seeing their matching clenched teeth. I can’t leave them like this. I have to try. “Hey, guys, can we just agree to not kill each other? Or even harm or maim each other? That’d be a great line in the proverbial sand. Agreed?”
There’s a growl in the air, but I’m not sure which man it’s coming from. “Okay, then. I’ll take that as a no.” And like a fucking coward, I skedaddle into the house.
It feels like I’m running for safety, right up until the second the screen door closes behind me and a whole bunch of eyes turn to me. Frozen bug, pinned to the pine floor . . . yep, that’s me.
My hands clench and unfurl, tapping fingers to my thumb as I wilt under the weight of the stares, some curious and at least one unfriendly. Brody gets up in my face again.
“What’s wrong.” It should be a question. It’s definitely not.
I look behind me, worried. “Bobby hates me. I think they’re fighting it out?”
I can hear the waver in my own voice. The fear of violence so close by and that I might be the cause of it makes me feel guilty, even though on some level, I know it’s not really my fault. But it’s all so mixed-up in my head.
“Fuck,” Brody hisses, shoving past me. Three other men do the same, harsh looks on their faces and blonde instead of the Tannens’ dark hair, and I realize that these must be the grown-up versions of the Bennett boys. I knew of them in school, but I don’t know if I would’ve recognized them on Main Street if I passed them now. But in this context, there’s no way they’re anyone else.
Suddenly, I’m alone with Shayanne, two other women I don’t know, Mama Louise who everyone knows, and Cooper.
Mama Louise smiles serenely, like this is nothing more than a regular Saturday evening around here. Maybe it is? “No worries, dear. They’ll get it sorted.”
The other women are looking at me with deep interest. Thankfully, Cooper runs to me, hugging me around the waist. “Mom?”
There’s a fear there I promised myself he would never know. I run my fingers across his head before patting his back. “It’s fine, honey. Bruce and Bobby are just talking. Tell me about your day. Did you see the pig?”
He doesn’t want the redirection, but Shayanne jumps in to save the day. “He sure did. He held Bacon Seed like a pro, supporting her round little body. He even fed her.” Shayanne holds her hand up and Cooper hesitatingly slaps it with his own.
It’s working, though. Cooper’s shoulders are dropping back into place, and he steps back, quoting. “Only one cookie treat per day. And they’re not really cookies like you and me eat. They’re special pig formula cookies and taste gross. So gross.” He sticks his tongue out and his nose crinkles.
“You ate a pig cookie?” I ask, horrified.
I marvel at how resilient he is and how he can jump focus as Shay and him giggle like they’re sharing a special joke with zero thoughts about what’s happening outside. “All natural, nontoxic, safe to eat. Just yucky, I promise,” Shayanne says. “It’s good to know what you’re feeding your animals.”
“Speaking of feeding our animals, there’s work to be done,” Mama Louise says, her meaning quite clear to everyone.
The two women I don’t know move over to the counter, where it looks like they’re making a salad, but their prying eyes still bore into me. Shayanne heads to the stove, Cooper trailing along after her. I look to Mama Louise for an assignment, and she nods, obviously pleased at my willingness to jump right in. “Allyson, dear, could you set the table, please? Plates, glasses, silverware,” she says, pointing around the kitchen.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, doing her bidding.
It occurs to me that she knows my name already. From Bruce? From Cooper? From high school? From Brody and Bobby telling them all about me today?
I feel like an interloper. They’ve accepted Cooper, but he’s a kid and ridiculously adorable. But me? They’re looking at me like a freak show, the woman who broke Bruce’s heart and is setting him up to fall again, especially if they’ve been listening to Brody and Bobby.
I’m not, or at least I don’t think I am, but I don’t think for one second that they’d believe that.
“I’m Allyson, by the way,” I tell the two salad-makers. They have the manners to look slightly chagrined.
“I’m Sophie,” a pretty woman with a country air says, though she doesn’t have that same drawl Shayanne does. “James’s wife, and that butter ball over there is Cindy Lou, our daughter.”
