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She just needed to be patient.
And discreet.
* * *
Continued…
Nineteen Years Ago
Birdie enteredthe house through the front door, walking quietly past her father sitting in his recliner and reading the paper. The Wellborns didn’t believe in fancy tech gadgets, unless of course Maisie insisted on one. They preferred a good old-fashioned newspaper you could hold in your hands. Just as God intended. Her father’s head never popped over the top of the page to greet her or gift her with a smile.
She tiptoed upstairs and into the room she shared with Maisie and dumped her book bag on her bed.
Maisie was sitting on her pink ruffled bedspread with headphones over her ears, watching her every move and staring daggers at her.
Funny how her sister got the latest tech gadgets, while she had to forage for food at a neighbor’s house and wear thrift-store clothing.
While Maisie’s bed was every high school girl’s dream, her bedspread was an old brown chenille blanket.
Honestly, Birdie would gladly accept all of that if she didn’t have to share a bedroom with Maisie.
It was so stupid.
There was a guest bedroom down the hall one of them could have snagged. She had never known anyone to have visited their parents staying more than a few minutes, let alone spending the night. So keeping it available for their next overnight guest was certainly not an issue.
For some infuriating reason, Maisie wouldn’t hear of having her own room. Birdie had attempted to bring it up to Shelby on a few occasions, suggesting Maisie was getting older and probably preferred her privacy, rather than sharing a room with her sister.
Maisie would pout, begging her mother not to make her move as she was afraid to be alone at night. Shelby would cradle her in her arms, assuring her she’d do nothing of the sort, all while Maisie bestowed onto Birdie a maniacal grin.
What Birdie deduced was Maisie required unfettered access to her sister, making it easier to get her into trouble for the least infraction. Most of which were fabricated.
Conjuring up lies was more difficult to do when both of them were behind two sets of closed doors.
“Mom said it’s your night to do the dishes,” she spat.
“I didn’t eat dinner here.”
“She said that just because you chose to whore around with Lucas Santos doesn’t mean you’re no longer a member of this family.”
Birdie’s face burned red at the slight and turned toward Maisie, giving her an accusing glare. “Why would Mom say that?”
Maisie shrugged her shoulders. “Could have come from anyone.”
Fat chance.
Maisie removed the headphones, glaring back at Birdie. “The entire school is talking about how you’re both doing it. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know the only reason he spends so much time with you is because you put out. Makes everyone wonder what’s wrong with him.”
Birdie felt a mixture of rage and humiliation hit the back of her eyes. Lucas had always been well-liked, and thanks to him and her own efforts, her reputation was improving. Along with her social status.
She knew this was largely because of spending time with him. His good reputation had helped her poor one. What she didn’t consider was the possibility of the time he spent with her bringing him down. Affecting his reputation. In the opposite way.
“Mom’s pretty mad,” Maisie said with a gleam in her eye. “Thought I’d let you know.”
That wasn’t good. And likely an understatement knowing Shelby Wellborn.
Maisie returned the headphones over her ears, as if predicting the storm to come.
That very storm blew in, the door to their bedroom swinging open with so much force it bounced off the wall.
