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“Did not.” He shoots his sister a dirty look, and I wink at Darby, pulling out my phone and taking a quick photo of his gap-toothed smile. He looks so damn proud.
“I hope you got lots of money from the tooth fairy?”
Straightening, I walk up to Darby and give her a side hug. She ducks her head when I try to ruffle her hair.
“I got a dollar. I put it in my piggy bank.”
“What are you guys doing out here?”
“Mom told us to play outside.” Darby rolls her eyes, clearly put out. “They’re talking about grown-up stuff.”
“She called Uncle Quinn a bad name.” Ethan’s eyes are big as he whispers the words to me. My sister doesn’t curse. As in, ever.
Alarm shoots through me, and I turn, quickly scanning the road, thinking I might have somehow missed his car parked on the curb. “Uncle Quinn’s here?”
“No, she was talking to Grandma.”
*****
After reassuring them that we’ll be out in a minute to get them, I walk inside, unsure of what’s waiting for me. Amelia isn’t the confrontational type, so whatever’s happened must be big for her to lose her cool. She’s four years older than me and has always been the level-headed one I could depend on to stay calm and give me unbiased advice.
It’s what I imagine a battlefield would look like. Amelia’s facing Mom—who has her arms folded across her chest—her back rigid. Gabriel’s scowling and Dad’s in his recliner, studiously ignoring everyone.
My smile dies as I warily take in the room. “What’s going on?”
“Yes, Mom. Tell Bailey what’s going on.”
Ooh, she’s using her Mom voice on Mom. Not good.
“For what it’s worth, I told her not to do it,” Dad pipes up unhelpfully, shrugging when Mom shoots him a look. “I warned you,” he mutters.
“Tell me what?”
Her mouth sets in a stubborn line, and she turns to the fridge, taking out a pitcher of sweet tea.
“What you’re doing isn’t right.” Amelia’s practically vibrating with anger, making my concern grow.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” I say in exasperation. Gabriel gives me an apologetic look, but I know I won’t get any answers from him. He knows better than to get in the middle of family arguments. Unless he feels Amelia is being slighted, then the gloves come off.
I hear a chorus of “Uncle Quinn” outside and freeze for a second before turning slowly to Mom.
“You didn’t.”
“He’s still part of the family, Bailey,” she says, every word dripping with defiance.
“We’re getting a divorce because he betrayed me. Another woman is having his child,” I say slowly, unable to believe that I have to explain this to her.
“Yes. I did all those things. And for that, I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life. I’ll do whatever I have to earn your forgiveness.”
Quinn’s voice is subdued, but I refuse to look at him. I can’t, so I keep looking at Mom, and that’s why I don’t miss the way her face softens when she looks at him.
The reminder of my place in this family is a punch to the gut. Amelia’s the firstborn, the child Mom’s always shown so much pride in. Cody is the spoiled baby, the one who’s currently off fighting for his country, and the one who can do no wrong. I’m the forgotten middle child, often left to my own devices. Grief shoots through me. I miss Gran and Gramps. The holidays I didn’t spend on the blueberry farm, I spent with them in the bookstore. They loved me how Mom was supposed to love me. And they’re not here anymore.
“He did. But we talked and—”
“You talked to him when you haven’t talked to me?”
Finally, I turn to Quinn. He looks like hell. “I don’t care if you’re feeling sorry. I don’t care if you want to earn my forgiveness. I told you we were done, and I meant it.”
