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There’s rawness in her voice under all the anger.
Yeah, I get it.
She talks like she hates Sierra, but it’s not hard to see she feels betrayed by someone she loves, no matter what went sour.
“Hey,” I say. “Maybe you can still talk some sense into Sierra’s head. It’s not impossible that she’ll come around. Hell, Blake and I used to not get along, either. We’re talking brawls in the streets, pissed off, mortal enemies. He tried to kick me out of town when I came back.”
“I heard the rumors,” she whispers.
“You heard right, lady. He hated me so much he was willing to believe I was the idiot out there setting fires, burning places down just so I’d get the jobs to rebuild them.”
She lets out one of her sharp, quick laughs. “Yeahhh, that sounds like the kinda crackpot theory Blake would come up with. Do you listen to his radio show? I swear he’s the dumbest smart guy I’ve ever met, but plenty brave, too.”
“That’s Blake for you. He’s my brother, though. We worked things out in the end.” I shrug, idly running my fingers through Plath’s mane. “So maybe there’s a chance you and Sierra can, too.”
“Maybe.” But she doesn’t sound like she really believes it. And I can tell she’s deflecting, diverting, when she glances at me and asks, “How come I didn’t see you around more growing up? You’re not that many centuries older than me.”
“Shit. I’m only forty.”
She smirks, lofting both brows. “And I’m twenty-seven. So get those dirty ideas out of your head.”
I splutter. “We’re not that far apart!”
That just makes her smirk widen.
“So you just confirmed you have been having dirty ideas.”
“Sweetheart,” I growl, “I’m not the one fixated on my crotch.”
“No, but you haven’t stopped staring at my chest ever since we set out.”
I grin, practically baring my teeth. “What can I say? I’ve got a thing for color contrasts.”
She blinks, looking puzzled, then looks down at her own cleavage, the tan lines.
Libby lets out a flustered gasp and glares daggers at me. “Asshole, will you just answer the question?”
That’s enough to slap the dirt out of my head.
I grimace. “Ma moved us to Coeur d’Alene after Blake went into the army.”
It’s hard to keep going. I don’t like thinking about Ma much. She wasn’t right in the head, made this huge rift between me and Blake just for the hell of it, to feel like she was in control of something.
“And?” Libby spits.
“And then she got sick, and we needed healthcare. I signed up for the Air Force myself to help pay the bills.”
That’s all I feel like giving.
She just watches me discerningly under her hat, those ice-blue eyes seeming to see far more than I want them to.
“Is your mother okay?” she asks after a few tentative moments, and I wince.
“Nah. It was a couple of years ago, but…you know.”
I shrug.
No need to finish.
Let’s just say I know too damn well how she feels, even if my ma wasn’t as sainted and well respected as her daddy and things were a lot more complicated.
You don’t have to be sure how you feel about your ma for it to hurt when she dies.
“So what happened then?” she prompts gently.
I’m grateful for the chance to move on.
Tilting my head back, I squint up at the clear blue summer sky, just letting myself remember, nice and slow.
“I wandered around Spokane after the military for a while, looking for something to do for a big boy career. Tried my hand at construction management, found out I liked it, started up my own gig,” I say, letting a touch of pride creep into my voice. “Then I took that gig to New York City.”
“But you didn’t stay?” That’s all she asks, thank fuck.
“My family’s been out here for as long as I can remember. Plus, the market’s more competitive there, too. After hearing about all the craziness going down in Heart’s Edge, I decided to head home and help rebuild, reconnecting with kin along the way.”
Libby half-smiles. “Tell the truth. You couldn’t handle the city, could you?”
“Sweetheart, the city couldn’t handle me,” I shoot back, smirking. “I turned New York City on its head, drained it dry, and then left for greener pastures.”
“Uh-huh. Sounds like the pastures here were already sour on you a long time ago,” she says mildly. “What’s this I hear about married women?”
Oh, fuck.
“Listen.” I make a guttural sound in the back of my throat. “That was a long time ago. I was practically a kid. Only two of them were married. And I didn’t know they were married when we went at it because they sure as shit didn’t tell me!”
“How do you come from Heart’s Edge and not know who’s married to who, who everyone’s second cousin is twice removed, and who touched whose hand too long at the checkout counter?” she mocks, and I laugh.
