Page 59 of I Wish You Were Mine

Katie nods enthusiastically as she shoves a forkful of sweet potatoes into her mouth. “Yummy, Daddy.”

But Maren takes one bite and drops her fork. The creases in her forehead deepen as she puts a hand on her stomach. “Y’all mind if I skip dinner? I’m not feeling so great.”

Jen looks at me. Why does she keep doing that?

“Of course,” I say, anxiety unfurling in the pit of my stomach. Something is wrong. “I got some Pepto if you need it?”

Maren shakes her head. “Thanks, but I think I just need to lie down. Sorry to bail in the middle of dinner, y’all.”

“No apology necessary.” Jen rubs her arm. “Let us know if you need anything, okay?”

Katie frowns. “Mare, are you sick?”

Maren rises and tucks Katie’s hair behind her ear. “A little bit, Katie Bear, but I’ll be okay.”

“Poor thing,” my sister says as Maren disappears down the stairs. “Stomach bug going around at school?”

“Not that I know of.” The anxiety is gnawing at my insides. “But something gross is always going around Katie’s class, so maybe.”

Jen insists on clearing the table and doing the dishes, so I sit with Katie and open a dinosaur stamp kit Dad brought last time he was here.

The kit is cute, and Katie is engrossed in stamping purple stegosauruses all over herself and her piece ofconstruction paper. But I keep glancing out the window at the crofter.

My stomach flips when I see one of my golf carts backing out of the driveway. Maren is driving it. I can’t see her face, but it’s obvious she’s in a rush.

My immediate reaction is to find out what’s going on. Do I call her? Text? Or maybe she wants to be alone. I told her to reach out if she needed anything.

I hold my phone in a death grip for ten minutes. Twenty. Maren returns, parking the cart in the driveway. Where the hell did she go? It’s none of my business, but I’m still dying to go out there. Talk to her.

Touch her.

“Daddy, look!” Katie points to the back of my hand, where she’s stamped a blue triceratops. “Do you love it?”

“Iloveit. But it’s time to clean up and do bath time, okay?”

Only I’m so distracted wondering what’s up with Maren that I end up filling the tub with cold water. I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Really wrong.

Jen pats me on the shoulder. “I think you need a break. Why don’t you go lie down? Watch some TV?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

But I just pace in the kitchen, watching the crofter through the windows. No sign of Maren. Did she leave again?

I can’t take it. I gotta check in on her.

Keeping my footfalls as light as possible—I don’t want my sister knowing what I’m up to—I head downstairs and out onto the deck. Into the garage. Up those stairs.

I knock. No response.

I text. No response.

I call. She doesn’t pick up.

I know I keep trespassing. Yeah, the crofter is technically my property. But Maren lives here. Me walking in uninvited is an egregious invasion of her privacy.

I head inside anyway, cursing when I discover the door is unlocked yet again.

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