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Verity’s jaw dropped.
“I understand you’re very pregnant. I understand you’re uncomfortable and might even be in a little bit of pain right now. I understand I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be pregnant at any point and have no right to judge you, but we are all trying to look after each other, run a farm and a business, and make sure that we have a good Christmas. The least you could do is help by not ringing your fucking bell like you’re a princess.”
Gramps looked between us.
“I’ve done your job with the grotto this year and you haven’t bothered to ask once how I am or how it’s going. You could have helped me find a Santa. You have a phone. You really could print the photos from your bed. You could come down and spend more time with Jazzy so Mom can breathe. You could even offer to sit comfortably behind the counter at the tree farm so Aunt Sarina can visit with Dad and give Mom a break for half an hour, but you’re only thinking about yourself, not the people who are running around like headless chickens for you.”
My sister opened her mouth, but she was so shocked at my outburst that nothing came out.
“So yes, this bell is mine. And I’m going to run it over with the tractor so it can never ring again.” I clutched it tightly. “And if you’re wondering, I put everyone’s presents that I bought for you in your closet while you were in the bath yesterday. I even got you gift bags so you don’t have to worry about wrapping anything, and all the cards are there, too, plus extras for Jazzy that I thought she might like. You owe me about eighty bucks, but I’d take you just not being a huge brat, honestly.”
She stood there and stared at me.
Gramps chuckled. “Well, this has brightened my morning.”
Verity gasped. “Are you not going to tell her to be quiet?”
“Why? If he does, you can’t tell everyone how horrible I am,” I shot back. “I’m going to get changed and go out. Some of us have things to do.”
Like not murder their sister.
If you asked me, that was a solid thing to add to the to-do list.
I took the bell and stormed off to my room, leaving Gramps chuckling and Verity complaining to him for letting me speak to her like that.
Honestly.
I couldn’t believe she was able to raise one child and grow another while still acting like one herself.
I shut my bedroom door and got changed, making sure to grab my makeup bag to throw into my purse to do later before the grotto opened. I had no idea where I was going to waste the next few hours, but I could at least head to the bakery first thing this morning and get something to eat and coffee…
And bug Erin while she baked.
I finished getting ready, grabbed all my stuff, and made my way back downstairs. It was much quieter now, but I didn’t dare poke my head into the living room to see if Verity and Gramps were still in there.
Instead, I headed outside and to my dad’s old truck. There was only the slightest dusting of new snow, and it looked as though someone had re-salted the drive, so it would be thankfully easy for me to get out.
I backed the truck up over the gravel space, thankful for the carport that kept most of the snow off the actual vehicles themselves. I was almost tempted to ram the truck into my sister’s shiny Range Rover, but you know.
I’d already rammed my attitude into her this morning, so there was no need to.
As much as I wanted to, of course.
What I hadn’t told her was that I’d caught my mom crying in the bathroom late last night. The stress of everything was getting to her, and someone, somewhere, in this family, had to step up to help her.
Nobody else was going to tell Verity that she wasn’t going to die if she moved from her bed to the sofa, so it was down to me.
As the bratty little sister, it was somewhat my prerogative to be a total bitch.
Especially when nobody else was willing to upset her.
I sighed and tapped my fingers at the steering wheel as I pulled up to a red light. It wasn’t that I was willing to upset her, because I wasn’t. I knew she was tired and uncomfortable, but as far as pregnancy went, she was fine. She was healthy. There were no doctors or nurses putting her on bedrest, and she was absolutely fine otherwise.
She just needed someone to tell her to buck her ideas up.
Maybe that made me a bitch. It was a fair thing to say—I hadn’t been nice to her, after all. I’d been downright horrible to her, really, but she wasn’t listening to anyone else who were making nice little comments that were little more than hints.
