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What the?
As Macy inspects my bike’s perfect lines and over-the-top chrome accents, I sling my eyes to Thane.
He shrugs as if to say it wasn’t me.
As a shadow above the stairs clears away, Macy says, “I’ll let them know there’s nothing to see here.” She hands me her half-demolished plate along with a business card. “If you can think of anything I might need to know, you can reach me at this number.” She sidesteps me, then enters the foyer of my home. “And either fix your landline or stop hoarding your cell phone number. I would have given you a heads-up that I was coming if I had access to either.” Her eyes stray to the shelf in my garage before returning to my face. “But I guess someone already did.”
After a second wink, she leaves as fast as she arrived.
20
HENLEY
“Calm the fuck down and take a breath.” When I do as instructed, Amelia asks, “Did she see you?”
I shake my head so fast I feel sick. “But this is still bad. I royally fucked up by wanting to spread my wings a little.”
“It could be worse.” When I stare at her through my phone screen, she laughs. “Brodie could be sitting in a cell with you.” She sounds amused. I have no clue why. “And when did you find the time between climbing down a rose bush and hurling up three ounces of vodka to buff out the scratches on his bike?” She clicks her fingers three times. “I also told you he gave off biker vibes. That man couldn’t be sexier if he were paid to be.”
Jealousy has me ignoring the last half of her reply. “I wouldn’t have gone anywhere if you hadn’t dared me.” I plop my ass on my bed, then flop back. “And I don’t remember buffing out the scratches. Everything is blank.”
“I said you could get another bottle if you weren’t scared to leave Brodie’s house unaccompanied. It wasn’t a dare.”
I cock a brow. “I was well past tipsy. It sounded like a dare.”
Amelia continues talking as if I never spoke. “And it isn’t necessarily bad that you can’t remember anything. You’re a shit liar. A memory lapse means you don’t have to fake forgetfulness.”
“Amelia…”
“Don’t Amelia me. I’m not the one causing all types of trouble hundreds of miles from home.” She lowers her voice so much that I doubt she wants me to hear her next sentence. “Though I wouldn’t mind a little more action. My life sucks.” As quickly as her self-pity party arrives, it vanishes. “Does Thane look as hot as he sounds?”
“I plead the fifth.” My voice is more playful than it has been all morning.
I glare at my phone screen when she murmurs, “I’ll take that as a yes.” She sits up. “Do you think you can take a sneaky pic for me?” Before I can deny her suggestion, she confesses, “I tried to convince him to FaceTime last night, but he said some crap about him sleeping in his niece’s bed because he’d never get hard again if he had to sleep in the bed Ms. Mitchell masturbated on or the one Lucy was conceived on.”
It’s lucky my stomach is empty. I might have vomited if it wasn’t. No one wants to imagine a sixty-seven-year-old lady masturbating.
“Hold on, how does Thane know Ms. Mitchell masturbated? Even at the start of her placement, she was old enough to be his grandmother.”
“From what he said, she was a bit of an over-sharer. She also flirted a lot.”
“He didn’t…”—I make a rude gesture with my hand—“right?”
Amelia rolls her eyes. “No. But Brodie might have. From what I’ve heard, he has a bit of a hankering for nanny fucking.”
If she were here, I’d strangle her. “You’re disturbing.”
“And you’re overreacting, but that seems to be your go-to coping mechanism these days.”
It hurts to hear, but she’s right. “It’s different this time. Lucy—"
“Is listening when she shouldn’t be.” My bedroom door pushes open before Lucy’s tiny body fills a small portion of the gap. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Come here.” I wave her into my room before focusing on my phone screen. “I’ll call you later.”
Amelia lifts her chin. “Just make sure it’s after you take a picture of Tha—”
I disconnect our chat before she can horrify Lucy more than I already have.
I didn’t think about my plan to leave thoroughly enough before attempting to implement it. I forgot she most likely has attachment issues like me. It is often the case when you lose a parent.
“I’m sorry I made you upset, Lucy-Lou. That was never my intention.”
“I know.” She sits on the end of my bed where I normally do her hair, so my fingers instinctively weave her glossy locks into two fishtail braids.
Once they’re secured with ties, she twists to face me. Her expression isn’t as hurt as it was earlier. “I shouldn’t have said what I did to Daddy. I was just angry that he won’t tell the truth. He likes you, Henley. He likes you a lot.”
