tucked it between my legs. The
silence was worse than him lighting into me and getting it over with. He held
the door while I maneuvered myself up the steps and into the kitchen.
Olivia brewed a pot of coffee, clicking her
fingernails against the stainless steel sink as she stared out the window.
Sunday morning tag team--two against one--would begin as soon as they were both
armed with caffeine.
I chewed on a hangnail and gazed up the stairs,
wondering how fast I could carry my ass up to my bedroom. On crutches? Not fast
enough.
Dad broke the silence by scraping a chair across
the scarred kitchen floor. "Have a seat, Claire."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and did as I was
told.
Olivia poured two cups of coffee and leaned
against the counter. "Where is my car?" she asked.
"It's in the ditch somewhere on the way to
Trevor Mills' house," I said while focused on the dried spots of blood on
my blue jeans. "Alistair Anderson ran me off the road."
"How much did you have to drink?" Dad
asked.
"I had maybe two beers, three at the
most." I looked him in the eye when I answered. The reason the car went
down the ravine had nothing to do with my being drunk or sober, and everything
to do with that fucker Alistair.
"Why didn't you call the sheriff and report
it?" He sat forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him.
I shrugged. "What's the use? It would just be
Alistair's word against mine."
"How bad is my car?" Olivia asked.
"Olivia, let me handle this, please? You can
talk to your sister later," he said, putting an end to the two against one
attack.
She huffed and said, "Fine," before
stomping out of the room.
I knew Olivia was pissed about her car, but it
would have been nice if she'd shown me an ounce of sisterly love.
Apparently my dad was out of questions and ready
to hand down my sentencing. "You will get a job this summer. Every dime
you earn will go to your sister to help her either repair her car or find a
suitable replacement vehicle."
Okay. I could live with that. I was planning to
get a job at the bakery anyway. "Yes, sir."
"I'm going to speak with Jeb Sayer. You can
work at his bait shop. I will see that you get to work each morning, and if I
can't pick you up at the end of the day, I'll make sure you have a ride home.
You'll get paid once a week and hand that paycheck over to me to put into a
bank account for Olivia."
Fuck me. Was he kidding me right now? Sayer's Bait
and Tackle? Handling worms and other assorted live bait all day long? It
smelled like dead fish in there and the building was always as hot as an oven
inside. "I already told Belle I'd work for her at the bakery," I
managed to choke out.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Call her and
tell her that due to unforeseen circumstances your plans have changed. You'll
report to Sayer's Bait and Tackle first thing Monday morning. I'll make sure Jeb
gets a stool for you to sit on behind the cash register until you're able to
get around without crutches."
I gritted my teeth and kept my mouth shut. There were
so many things I wanted to say to him, none of them pleasant. Yes, I was
eighteen and capable of making my own decisions, but I had to go along with him
for the time being. If I got too cocky, I'd be out on my ass and looking for another
place to live.
"Now, call Hensteeth Towing and get your
sister's car pulled out of the ditch," he said before leaving me to feel
sorry for myself over the shitty hand I'd been dealt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Braden
Sayer
"That's where Claire and her family
live," Uncle Jeb pointed out as we drove past.
I craned my neck to get a good look, but the only
things visible were the trees lining a long, rutted lane that disappeared into
nothingness. My breath hitched and I nodded. I knew she lived near Uncle Jeb, I
just didn't remember how close it was until we were pulling into the marina.
He reached over and gave my shoulder a friendly
squeeze. "Come on, let's get you situated."
I smiled in spite of the
silence was worse than him lighting into me and getting it over with. He held
the door while I maneuvered myself up the steps and into the kitchen.
Olivia brewed a pot of coffee, clicking her
fingernails against the stainless steel sink as she stared out the window.
Sunday morning tag team--two against one--would begin as soon as they were both
armed with caffeine.
I chewed on a hangnail and gazed up the stairs,
wondering how fast I could carry my ass up to my bedroom. On crutches? Not fast
enough.
Dad broke the silence by scraping a chair across
the scarred kitchen floor. "Have a seat, Claire."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and did as I was
told.
Olivia poured two cups of coffee and leaned
against the counter. "Where is my car?" she asked.
"It's in the ditch somewhere on the way to
Trevor Mills' house," I said while focused on the dried spots of blood on
my blue jeans. "Alistair Anderson ran me off the road."
"How much did you have to drink?" Dad
asked.
"I had maybe two beers, three at the
most." I looked him in the eye when I answered. The reason the car went
down the ravine had nothing to do with my being drunk or sober, and everything
to do with that fucker Alistair.
"Why didn't you call the sheriff and report
it?" He sat forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him.
I shrugged. "What's the use? It would just be
Alistair's word against mine."
"How bad is my car?" Olivia asked.
"Olivia, let me handle this, please? You can
talk to your sister later," he said, putting an end to the two against one
attack.
She huffed and said, "Fine," before
stomping out of the room.
I knew Olivia was pissed about her car, but it
would have been nice if she'd shown me an ounce of sisterly love.
Apparently my dad was out of questions and ready
to hand down my sentencing. "You will get a job this summer. Every dime
you earn will go to your sister to help her either repair her car or find a
suitable replacement vehicle."
Okay. I could live with that. I was planning to
get a job at the bakery anyway. "Yes, sir."
"I'm going to speak with Jeb Sayer. You can
work at his bait shop. I will see that you get to work each morning, and if I
can't pick you up at the end of the day, I'll make sure you have a ride home.
You'll get paid once a week and hand that paycheck over to me to put into a
bank account for Olivia."
Fuck me. Was he kidding me right now? Sayer's Bait
and Tackle? Handling worms and other assorted live bait all day long? It
smelled like dead fish in there and the building was always as hot as an oven
inside. "I already told Belle I'd work for her at the bakery," I
managed to choke out.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Call her and
tell her that due to unforeseen circumstances your plans have changed. You'll
report to Sayer's Bait and Tackle first thing Monday morning. I'll make sure Jeb
gets a stool for you to sit on behind the cash register until you're able to
get around without crutches."
I gritted my teeth and kept my mouth shut. There were
so many things I wanted to say to him, none of them pleasant. Yes, I was
eighteen and capable of making my own decisions, but I had to go along with him
for the time being. If I got too cocky, I'd be out on my ass and looking for another
place to live.
"Now, call Hensteeth Towing and get your
sister's car pulled out of the ditch," he said before leaving me to feel
sorry for myself over the shitty hand I'd been dealt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Braden
Sayer
"That's where Claire and her family
live," Uncle Jeb pointed out as we drove past.
I craned my neck to get a good look, but the only
things visible were the trees lining a long, rutted lane that disappeared into
nothingness. My breath hitched and I nodded. I knew she lived near Uncle Jeb, I
just didn't remember how close it was until we were pulling into the marina.
He reached over and gave my shoulder a friendly
squeeze. "Come on, let's get you situated."
I smiled in spite of the
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