Page 106 of What About Us

IVY

“Welcome back,” Tucker says with a grin. He came to the airport to pick us up, and I have to admit, it’s nice to be back in Montana. “I hear it was a successful party.”

“It was incredibly successful,” I gush before Xander can reply. Instead, he smiles down at me. “It raised so much money for those kids, and Xander was charming and the perfect date. I’m proud of your brother.”

“I’m proud of him too,” Tucker says with a smile, and we all climb into the car. “I’m glad to hear you had a good time. There’s not much going on here. Dad had a little snafu with his blood sugar yesterday, but it’s straightened out now.”

“Did he go to the doctor?” Xander asks.

“Yeah, it was really low. He’s fine.”

“This shit always happens when I’m not around and can’t do anything to help.” I can hear the frustration in Xander’s voice. “You should have called me.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Tucker replies with a shrug. “He wasn’t admitted to the hospital or anything. Just needed some help to get leveled out.”

I know that Greg has had issues with his diabetes over the past couple of years, and all the siblings help out where they can. And one of the challenges for Xander has been that he lives so far away most of the time and isn’t here to help out more.

Xander checks his phone and frowns.

“Hey, Red, I think we should head into town real quick so you can have a look at your house.”

“I’m down for that,” Tucker agrees, and I frown at both of them.

“We literally just got off a plane.”

“It’s early,” Xander says. “Not even noon. We can knock that errand out, then head home and get some work done.”

I was really looking forward to a hot shower, since planes always make me feel grimy, and I have stuff to do. Plus, I want to see my cat. And don’t even get me started on the fact that it has to reek of cigarettes in my house and that I’d have to see the evidence of what my own mother did to the place.

But I guess it’s not a big deal to run into town so I can make a list of things to tackle and maybe pick both Tucker’s and Xander’s brains on who to call for cleanup. Because it’s best for my own mental health if I don’t try to do it myself.

I’m lost in my own mind, scrolling through social media and chatting with the WAG group, when Tucker’s vehicle comes to a stop, and when I look up, I immediately frown.

There’s a huge dumpster parked in my driveway, and several work trucks are out here too.

A tall, muscular man waves from the porch, and I get out of the car and walk right over to him.

“Walker Hayes,” I say with a frown. “Did you break into my house?”

Just like the Hendrix family, I’ve known the Hayes boys most of my life. Walker was a year ahead of us in school.

“Uh, no,” Walker replies without cracking a smile. “Xander hired me. Go on in and have a look around.”

I glance back and see that Xander’s on the phone and Tucker’s talking to another guy on the sidewalk, so I go inside alone and feel like I’ve walked into an alternate universe.

Everything is gone. Well, likely out in that dumpster in the driveway. The ruined couch and blankets, all my destroyed artwork: gone. Even the carpet has been torn out. There’s a hole in the drywall that I didn’t notice before. It’s the size of Brenda’s fist.

Moving into the kitchen, I see that most of it is untouched, but all the dishes that were in the sink are gone and it’s been cleaned up.

My bedroom is empty. The shredded clothes and destroyed bed have been taken away. Anything that Brenda touched is gone.

And when I take a breath, I don’t smell smoke and urine.

When I return to the living room, Walker’s waiting for me.

“The plan is to patch that drywall, get some new hardwood in here, and paint. Shouldn’t take too long, depending on the flooring you choose and how long that takes to get here.”

I frown up at him.