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“Yes, ma’am. I wish we could’ve stayed longer, but you know.”
“Oh, of course, all the work to be done around here. You Steels are never idle.”
“That’s no lie.” This from Donny from the couch.
Mom means well, but I wish she’d shut up. She has no idea what Callie and I are going through, let alone what the Steels are going through.
It’s not really something I can tell her.Oh, Mom, by the way, when I was in high school, I got drugged, and someone took photos of me in very compromising positions.
Yeah. Not happening.
Small talk.
It’s going to be twenty minutes of small talk before dinner.
Then more small talkatdinner.
Why did I agree to this?
Brock is a trouper though. He engages my mother, asking her questions and answering all of hers. He’s so good at conversation that I don’t have to say a word.
So I don’t, until someone says the word—
“…fire.”
Who said that? Who brought up the damned fire?
I glance at each person’s face, and I zero in on the regretful expression in my father’s eyes. It was him, but why? I’ve been so taken with Brock and his ease with my mother that I wasn’t listening to anything else.
“You know,” Donny says, “anything you need. Just ask.”
“Your father and uncles have already told us that,” Dad says. “We’re doing just fine. But thank you so much for offering. We appreciate it.”
My dad is rigid, tense. It flows off him in waves. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, his shoulders slumped downward. He’s the one who mentioned the fire, so he brought this on himself. He knows that.
My father will never take a nickel from the Steels. He’s too proud.
And again, I want to pummel Pat Lamone for ever calling us gold diggers.
We arenotgold diggers. If we were, my dad would take the Steels up on their offer.
Mom stands. “I think dinner’s ready. Frank, get everyone settled at the table, and I’ll bring it in.”
“I’ll help you, Mom,” I say.
“Oh no, you show Brock to the table. Callie can help me.”
Callie gives me her patentedwhat the fuck?look. I shrug. What can I do? Mom wants me focused on Brock. Callie already snagged her Steel.
Fine. She wants me focused on Brock? I’ll be focused on Brock.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BROCK
Rory takes my hand, squeezes it, and then pulls me up from my place on the love seat. She gently nudges me out of the room and toward the dining area.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
