AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know! I know. But she’s happy, Michelle. She hasn’t been this happy in years. I’ll fuck that up for her.”
“No.Hefucked that up.” Michelle pushed up, spun around and sat crisscross, facing Lyra. “Think of it like this,” she continued. “If he’s moving on his girlfriend’s daughter, in his girlfriend’s house, who is he moving on when the coast is clear? Would you want to be ignorant of info like that aboutyourguy? Tra-la-la-ing along thinking everything’s great when he’s making a total idiot out of you all over town?”
“I guess.” She knew, actually. Michelle was right. “I just don’t want to break her heart, and this will.”
Her mom had been the one to ask for the divorce, and overall she’d been happier on her own. There were no two people less compatible than grouchy, monosyllabic Ben Haddon and lighthearted, effervescent Melody Miller. They’d loved each other—Lyra thought they still loved each other—but Pop had a dominant, dour personality and a tempered-steel kind of stubbornness, and Mom’s light had been guttering out. Even as a kid, Lyra had seen that, and she hadn’t been surprised when Mom moved out. Devastated, but not surprised. Same with Reed. Only Pop had been surprised.
That was one of the main reasons Lyra had elected to stay with him: he’d been so lost on his own. Her father was a man who needed a woman in his life. He was also, it seemed, a man who loved only once. He’d shown absolutely no indication that he’d ever be interested in another relationship. She was pretty sure he picked up the occasional woman when he went out with his buddies, but he never brought them home or spoke of that part of his life at all.
He never would have intentionally smothered the happiness of the one woman he would ever love. He just had this enormous blind spot when it came to stepping out of his own shoes. He’d had the life he wanted and simply hadn’t noticed that not everyone in the family had the same. You had to grab him and shove the problem in his face. You could not be subtle—or, God forbid, passive-aggressive. If you said,Pop, you’re being an asshole and here’s why, he’d hear you, and maybe he’d decide to do something about that, but it wouldn’t come quick. To have any chance at all, you had to be exactly that direct.
Mom, who hated to deal with any kind of negativity, hadn’t, as far as Lyra knew, ever tried to yank him into understanding what she needed. She’d dealt with it until she couldn’t, and then she’d left.
Thus, Pop had been blindsided and rocked hard.
Mom hadn’t wanted to be married to Pop anymore, but she didn’t want to be alone, either. She wanted someone with whom she could shine. Laughlin was too small a town to support a robust field of likely candidates, especially of a certain age. This new guy—Wade was his name—was only the second serious relationship she’d had for eight years.
On paper, he seemed perfect. Handsome, fit, and well groomed; age-appropriate (more or less, he was about ten or so years younger); good manners; decent sense of humor; extroverted and interested in trying new things; solid job; dressed like a grownup. The works. The roving eye and busy hands sucked as a bonus feature, though.
“Heis breaking her heart, not you.” Michelle insisted.
“Yeah, but I’m like the hitman, the one pulling the trigger. We’re both to blame.”
Michelle’s eyes went wide with frustration. “Shit, Ly. Martyr complex much?”
“Fuck off!”
A bright red frisbee sailed over and hit Lyra’s arm. She flinched, whipped around, saw a boy of about five run toward her, then stop several feet off and not know what to do. This beach was crowded for a weekday; the comparative cool—only low 90s—had the moms and little kids out in force.
Lyra picked up the frisbee. “This yours?” she asked the boy. He nodded, still looking nervous. If he were a bit older, she might offer a brief lecture on being careful not to intrude on other people’s space, but instead she simply sent the disc back to him.
It was a good throw, aimed well but gently for the little kid, but the kid bobbled it. He grabbed it from the sand and ran back to his own space.
“It’s too fucking crowded,” Michelle grumbled. “Who told all these people they could come clog up our day?”
“We have not yet achieved our dream to own all the beaches, so I guess they don’t need our permission to be here.”
“Well, I’m opposed.” Michelle stretched out on her back and pushed her sunglasses into place. “And I’m not distracted. You need to talk to your mother.”
“Your opinion has been logged, okay? And I know you’re right. I just have to work out how to do it.”
“’Hi Mom, we need to talk. You know when you had that cookout a couple weeks ago? Well, when Wade and I went in to get the tablecloth and napkins, he sexually assaulted me.’ That’s how to do it.”
“It wasn’t sexual assault. Don’t be melodramatic.”
“You, Lyra Haddon, are an expert excuse-maker. For other people. Other people get all the benefits of doubt, and you take on all the blame. It gets you into trouble.”
They were reaching rocky terrain now. “Don’t go there, Chelle. Stop where you are.”
Looking like it caused her actual pain, Michelle did stop.
Then Lyra’s phone buzzed. She’d set it on the plastic container of grapes so she’d hear it vibrate.
It was her dad. When she answered, he said, “Hey, baby bear. Sorry to do this, but the job’s a mess, and I couldn’t raise Lonnie. We need you back.”
So much for a day of baskin’ and relaxin’. “Okay, Pop. We’re at the beach, so it’ll be an hour and a half, at least.”
“I know. This is a full-day job, especially on just the two of us, so we’ll be here—and damn glad to see you when you get here.”
