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Her mouth gaped and she smacked me with happiness. “Knew it!”
“I said it first!”
“Knew it again!”
“Now I have to figure out how to get him his dream fridge. He wants one with a water dispenser and ice maker, and those shits are expensive.” But I had an idea, and it had to do with Patrick Harris.
“We could sell lemonade or do a boat wash or something. Raise some money,” Karen suggested.
“See? This is why you’re family, Kare-bear. You give a fuck about Xavi’s dreams.”
She smiled. “He gives a fuck about mine, too. He made me pickles and cheese.”
Oh, I knew that.He’d been nervous about it, thinking it was a thing only her dad could do. But he cut precision pickles and bought four kinds of cheese and six kinds of crackers, and he was putting us in debt with toys and snacks, but I didn’t care. Karen was worth it. And so was that plug. After everything had been mostly moved out of the apartment at the back, Xavi made his snack board and then he and Karen ate it on the back dock while Karen turned him into a Swiftie. He talked about it in bed that night until two in the morning while singing“Shake it off.”I hoped that phase didn’t last, but it was fun to listen to him butcher it.
The front door of the shop opened, and Xavi walked in without a shirt or any shoes. “Karen, I need you to sweet-talk the truck if we’re going to get you home on time. The stubborn old girl is trying to keep you here.”
Karen laughed, helping me hide my bracelet making materials. “I’ll give her a good talking to.” She headed out front, and Xavi went with her.
Okay, so my skills in jewellery making weren’t awesome, but I was excited to finish it and give it to Xavi for our one month.
* * *
Over the next few weeks,life got awesome. I loved living at the park again, and since we’d sort of bonded with Evan, he started seeking our attention more. He wouldn’t knock on the door, but he did whatever he could to draw us outside.
The first time he tried, he stole my power washer and I foot-chased him through the whole park until he tripped on the cord and almost broke the damn thing, let alone his nose. Then he threw stones at the trailer to make us come outside, and I could tell he was hungry, so even though I was full on PB&Js, I acted like I was just about to make one for myself just to get him to eat one. Four sandwiches in one night was a bit much, but he ate it, so there was that.
He’d follow us around and pretend to randomly run into us. He hung around the park building where Seth worked, hoping to catch Xavi on his way for a visit. He even came to us one night when he saw Naomi heading for his dad’s trailer. God, she was pissing me off. She did great for a few days and then slipped. Same cycle over and over again, but Seth was on it. Protecting Maddox and Xavi from it.
But as I walked out of the trailer, ready to pick Xavi up from his parents’ place on our way to Redding, I saw Evan lurking around the yard. When I threw him the middle finger, he didn’t throw one back.
That was the first clue that something was off.
I pulled my shirt on and approached him, but he wouldn’t look at me. “What’s up?” I kept it casual because he spooked when anything got serious. Kid was terrified of his dad, and he did whatever he could to stay out of his way and avoid Children’s Aid because they usually failed to take him away, and all it bought him was a smack from his father.
He kept his hood up and didn’t say anything. I wanted to grab him, but he looked pretty sketchy, so instead, I nudged his shoulder and nodded at the truck.
“Your dad home?”
“Sleeping,” he mumbled.
“Then come on. He won’t notice if you’re gone for a bit.”
Evan followed me to the truck, and when he climbed in, I saw a split lip and a bruised cheek that hinted at a black eye. Rage came at me, but I knew he wouldn’t respond to that, so I clenched my teeth and tried to start the truck. He wouldn’t talk about his dad, but the general vibe of the situation was something along the lines of ‘he tells me to fuck off for a bit, so I do, and if I get in his way, he smacks me.’ I had a feeling his dad liked to party, didn’t want the kid around, whether that was to shield Evan from it or just to keep him out of his way, and didn’t really give a shit where Evan went as long as he wasn’t home and didn’t draw attention from the cops or CAS. Hadn’t met the guy, but figured he was pretty shit at parenting. That didn’t mean he was a terrible person, but now that I saw a busted lip and actual bruises on Evan, my thoughts were rearranging themselves into angry, judgy ones.
“What a piece of shit,” Evan grumped when the truck wouldn’t start.
I gasped, covering my truck’s ears. The vents. “How dare you talk about her like that. At least do it behind her back like we do.”
Evan smirked. Then scowled because he was trying to be moody.
The truck had a trick to get her going if I was lucky, so I hopped out and left the door open. “Can you turn the key when I tell you to?”
Evan slid over wordlessly. He was so easy to manipulate. I opened the hood, pretended to do something, and waited a few seconds for the ticking to stop. When it did, I knew if I waited too long, it wouldn’t go. So I shouted for Evan to start it and stuck my hands near the window washer fluid to look like I knew what I was doing.
“Now?”
“Now!”
