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Or… I could wait until the afternoon. Not show my fear to them, not scare them for no fucking reason at all.
So I go upstairs to check on Evan, for lack of something else to do. I could also make the bed, and unpack our things, while I’m at it.
But he’s awake, staring at the door, blinking when I appear at the opening. “I thought I heard some noise from downstairs,” he mutters, and sits up, wincing. “Got everything okay?”
“No problems.” I lean against the doorframe, fold my arms over my chest. “Anything you want me to do around the house? Things to fix or clean? Or maybe you need help for the shower? Do you wrap up the cast and the sling with plastic?”
“Yeah, it’s a mess.” He gives the sling a death glare not unlike his niece’s.
Which reminds me…
“What’s up with Melissa’s parents? Is her dad around at all?”
Evan sighs and rubs at his eyes with his good hand. “Let’s not talk about her dad.”
Damn. If he’s anything like Jasper at all, as he appears to be, then I’m fucking glad. “And her mom? Why the hell would she leave the girl with you when you’re the one who needs help?”
“She’s jobless, and a junkie. I wish Melissa would stay with me permanently, but she needs a mom. Any time she spends here is a gift.” He looks away. “For me.”
I wish I knew what to say to that, but I don’t.
Chapter Six
Octavia
Melissa takes cooking seriously, as it turns out. And she likes peeling potatoes and carrots.
Which suits me just fine. I chop up the veggies she passes me, while the onions and meat sizzle in oil. We throw everything in, add tomato sauce and spices, and cover the pot to let it simmer.
“Do you often help your mom cook?” I pour us both tall glasses of cranberry juice and stand at the window, looking outside at the overgrown garden.
“Mom doesn’t like cooking. She’s very busy,” she tells me, her voice serious, and comes to stand beside me, glass held in both her hands. “She isn’t home much.”
My heart clenches. “Who do you stay with, then? When she’s not there?”
“A neighbor. Or here, with Uncle Evan.”
“He loves you.”
“He’s awesome. He used to live close to us, but then he moved here.” Her voice goes low. “I miss him. I’m so sad he’s hurt.”
“He’ll be all right in no time. You’ll see.”
“And he’s lonely.”
I squat down to her level and tuck a flyway curl behind a small ear. “Oh, honey. I’m sure he has friends.”
She tucks her lower lip between her teeth. “Like you have Matt?”
Heat spreads on my cheeks. “Sure. Like me and Matt. What about you? Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”
She shakes her head. “Do you?”
“Yes. I have two, Merc and Gigi.” I frown. “No, actually I have three.”
“You don’t know how many you have?”
Ridiculous, right? I forgot about him. I wonder, does his own father remember him?
