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“She drew hearts next to her number.” I frown. “That’s stupid.”
My sister wastes no time in responding. “You’re stupid. Who cares if she drew hearts. So she likes hearts. You have something against heart doodles?” The veins in her temples pulse. I fight a smirk. Even at my age, riling up my sister just… it makes me a little happy.Can’t help it.
“I may have something against heart doodles, yeah,” I reply cooly, shoving the number into my pocket so I don’t have to look at it. Heart doodles are stupid.
“Hudson,” she starts, all the frustration and contention in her voice gone, leaving behind a softness full of guilt. For me, though, not her. “I want us to live our lives side by side. I want more for you than this.”
I grow prickly from her words. The truth makes me grouchy when I’m not looking to hear it. “I’m happy.”
Her hand on my forearm gives me pause. We aren’t touchy-feely. Everly isn’t even touchy-feely with Bear. It’s just not her style. Wasn’t our mom’s style either.
It was Tessa’s style. I always loved that about her the most. How warm and loving she was with small kids. I thought it was a sure sign she’d make a great mom.
But you gottastayto be a good mama.
“You’re happy with what you know. But the unknown holds so much more for you, Hud.” She lets go of my arm and steps away, turning to go meet up with Deuce. “Go out with her for me, okay?”
I glare at her, keeping my sight pinned to the back of her head as she trots to her fiancé, who is at the Gray Farms booth. I don’t want to go out with Tiffani, but I can’t deny what Ev is saying. And I don’t want her getting married, starting her new life, all the while worrying about me.
I’m the older brother. She shouldn’t worry about me. She’s done so much to help me in the last four years, she deserves her time.
I know then I’ll call the woman who likes heart doodles.
I’ll do it because I love my family, and I want them to be happy.
I just told EvI’mhappy. I’m not really.
I’m glad to have the market, and I’m glad to have the loyal people in this town. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy.
Bear comes crashing into me, his little hands damp, smelling like mint and rubbing alcohol. He holds up a tiny canvas, waving it in front of me. “Daddy! Look!”
I take the piece from him, holding it with both hands, the brim of my hat casting shade over it. Though it’s abstract due to the artist being four, I know just what it is. And I realize the guidance it took to get this painting to look like what it is. I look up, smiling at my son before my eyes go to Designed by Dolly, her hand-painted greeting card booth. But she’s not there.
“Dolly helped me! It’s the creek. Can you tell?” Bear asks, stepping onto my feet to gain a few inches, his hands gripping my forearm to steady himself. I sift my hand through his soft hair, sun-warmed to the touch.
“I love it. Did you tell Dolly thank you?” I ask, my eyes veering back to her booth. She’s still not there, but there are people around, sifting through cards in plastic sleeves, chatting with smiles on their faces. Up pops a head of jet-black hair, and a moment later, Ivy’s blue eyes are on mine. She smiles, then returns her focus to the customers.
Maybe Dolly popped out to get something to eat. I know she loves funnel cakes.
Why am I looking for a twenty-year-old girl right now?
“Daddy?” Bear calls from below. “Give it here,” he begs, reaching for the canvas.
I hand it to him. “Take that inside. Put it in your room. It’s too special to be out here.”
Bear sighs, staring dreamily at the painting. “Yeah, it’s too special.” He turns, headed toward the house with his creek painting.
I’d love to tell Dolly thank you, and I’d love to thank heragain for taking Bear at such short notice the other day. But as I glance back to her booth, feeling like a goddamn creep for checking in on a girl that,in theory, could be my daughter, I see that it’s still just Ivy.
I walk around the market for the next few hours, checking in with folks, catching up on people’s lives, tasting the food, and have a few beers. Eventually, I make it back to the Gray Farms booth, selling the last few bottles of flavored milk.
As the market wraps up, I shake hands with most of the town, waving them off as they head up the road. Still, I’m hyperaware that Dolly never came back today.
And even though I shouldn’t, I wonder where she went…and why.
seven
I’LL MAKE SURE OF IT.
