Page 20 of Passion in Bloom

“Around.”

“What have you been doing?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? Back off. Can’t you see that I don’t feel good?”

Can’t you tell that I’m asking because I care?

I debated the wisdom of caring, though. It seemed she’d never heard of the phrase of not biting the hand that feeds, but I simply didn’t have the energy to get into this with her.

Why can’t anyone just be honest anymore?

“I’m going to shower,” she mumbled when I held in my temper and watched her for a long moment instead of replying.

I thought back to all the welfare programs I’d looked up for her. Links to applications for government assistance. Job searching advice. All the ways I’d wanted to help her redirect the sorry, sad path of life she was taking.

For her own safety and well-being, she couldn’t go on like this. But I didn’t understand why I’d be so deluded to think she’d listen or care.

This was like striking out. Twice in too short of a time.

Heather was stubbornly against letting anyone in to help her be safe from David.

Nevaeh had been born to argue with any productive suggestion I could tell her.

“What?” she snapped, eyeing me with a defensive glare when she stood and headed to the bathroom.

“If you look at any of the programs I tell you about, if you check out the welfare options, you wouldn’t have to stagger through town with a damn bike to take a shower. You’d have a job, your own place—”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m sick of the idea of ‘welfare’ crap. They don’t care about me. I’m just a number.” As she walked slowly, giving me her back, she added, “I’ll take care of myself as I see fit.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I didn’t follow her. “From my standpoint, you’re not taking care of yourself at all.”

“I’m not a child, Roarke,” she whined.

“All I see is that you have the time and money to color your hair.”

She shook her head, mumbling something as she moved further away.

At a complete loss of what to say, how to feel, and what I could do, I gave up. For this moment, I had to. I couldn’t keep going at her like this. It was like talking to a freaking wall.

“The water’s been acting a little funny lately,” I warned her, resigned to let her have a moment to clean up. Maybe once she was warmed up, she’d feel better and might listen.

Yeah, right.

I rolled my eyes, sitting in my chair and letting the familiar anger simmer.

It seemed that karma wasn’t done with playing the most epic prank on me.

All I’d wanted was to enjoy the peace of no drama, and here I was, wedged in place between two sources of it from the niece who’d never listen and the woman who pushed me away.