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“What? No. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Even more proof that I’m not fit for the job. I leave whenever I like. I might as well resign right now.”
“That isn’t what I mean.” He rubs at his forehead. “I just think we should talk. Go find Dot together. Clear this all up.”
Bile bubbles up the back of my throat at the notion of confronting Dot. Given my current state, I’m not so sure I can trust myself to be calm. I might pull out all her hair.
“This isn’t going to be easily resolved.” A dark snort sails past my lips. “I can’t leave. I won’t.” I sound harsher than I intend, but I’m also miffed that he’d even suggest such a thing. “We’ll talk later. I have to stay. If I have any chance of keeping this job, I can’t run at the first sign of trouble.”
We stare at each other, both determined to stand our ground, and thankfully, Oliver finally backs down. I steel my spine and watch him leave the library, resolved to finish the day.
Chapter24
Oliver
Hurricane Dot continues the next day, leaving devastation and destruction in her wake. The night before, I waited for Wren to come home. She was later than usual and I tried calling and texting, but she never answered.
Once she did get home, the evening was touch and go, rocky at best. We barely spoke, but at least we didn’t fully turn away from one another. After dinner, which both of us hardly ate, we went to bed where we found each other in the dark and made love.
It was feral and frenetic. Kisses bruising, far too much teeth. Nails biting, hands strong and groping. Strokes urgent and fast. Then we fell asleep with our bodies entwined. Even still, I’m filled with dread. Last night felt a lot like the beginning of the end, and I won’t accept that.
Eddie leans against the door to the Nest as I stroll up the walkway, coffee in one hand and keys dangling from my fingers. I give him a quick nod; that’s all the greeting I can muster. There’s no point in asking if he too has heard all the wonderful things about me and the woman I love. He has. It’s written on the deep, downturned lines marring his brow and the grim line of his mouth.
Silently, he follows me inside and watches me place my phone on the desk, hit a button to dial into my work voicemail, and then press speaker so I can continue setting up for the day.
Out of the tiny phone, I pause at the first bitter voice that vomits into my workspace. There are at least a dozen messages like that from clients, old and new. Most are outraged and disgusted with me.
Word has spread fast and wide about my supposed infidelity and how I’m shirking my responsibilities as a father. Some of the calls are even from a few who live beyond the Winslow Grove town line. All of them demand I do the right thing.
The final message is from a long-standing and repeat customer, Mr. Goodrow, his thunderous parting words a low blow that makes my legs weaken. “I thought we were finally rid of the Winslow scoundrel when your father died. Although, unlike with him, where my hands were tied, I’ll have nothing to do with you. That old saying is true. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. You’ve everything like Merrick Winslow. Such a shame.”
My brother catches my flinch as the message ends. Clearly there are still some people around that were very aware of my father’s true colors.
Eddie’s features harden as he stares me down. “Don’t fucking listen to him. You’re nothing like him. Don’t let these assholes run you out of business. What are you going to do about this? Everything you’ve worked for is now on the line. Dot's dangerous.”
He’s trying to light a fire under me, and yet, I feel like all the light has gone out. Well, except for Wren. Thank fuck for Wren.
Eddie glares expectantly, having no patience for my silence, and I snap, fingers balling into fists, tendons in my neck taut.
“What do you want me to do? What? I’ve got to clear my name, and I can’t see a way in doing that. If you’ve got any bright ideas, now would be a good time to share.”
“Hey, relax. You gotta do what needs to be done to make this go away.”
My scathing grunt causes him to bristle, and some of my anger drains from me. “I freaking created this crap.”
He folds his arms, eyes pinned to me, and stays silent. I know him well. He isn’t backing down or letting me off the hook. His gaze bores into me, clearly conveying everything I already know.
This thing with Dot, call it a war or whatever, won’t end until there is a victor. Dot is out for blood, to win at all costs, and for me to even stand a chance of walking away with something, I need to keep fighting. Everything I was taught not to do from my father.
My father, the fucking hypocrite. He claimed to live under a halo of virtue, and my mess is nothing compared to his. Or is it?
That doesn’t matter. I am not my father. Never have been and I won’t let the people of Winslow Grove think that I am.
After Wren and I talked yesterday, I tried to deal with this discreetly, to find Dot and talk to her. I called, texted, and even went to the house, but nothing. She wasn’t responding, and at the house, I couldn’t go inside to see if she was hiding in there, even if I wanted to. She changed the locks.
I spent the late afternoon searching town for her, checking out her usual haunts. No one had seen her, though I suspect no one would’ve told me even if they knew where she was.
I received a chilly reception, at best, from everyone I talked to. Then I switched tactics and tried to find Kellen. I planned to make him talk, to explain why he was talking to Dot the day Wren saw them. It turns out, Kellen’s left town.
The front door slaps against the wall and Mr. Levine barges in. “Oliver, cancel my order.” He brandishes his finger like a weapon.
