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Authors: Lorrie Thomson
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“Troy, Aidan Walsh, our new tenant.”
Aidan nodded. “Nice to meet you, Troy.” Aidan put down a box and shook Troy’s hand.
“Finn, friend of Aidan,” Finn said, but Troy’s gaze lingered on Aidan.
“So where’re you putting the desk?” Troy asked, and Aidan exchanged a glance with her mother.
“I asked Aidan to put it out in the shed,” Mom said. “But we could find a place for it in the house, if you’d prefer.”
Troy cleared his throat. “The house would work,” he said, but his voice didn’t return to normal. Troy stared after Aidan as the two men carried Aidan’s guitar and moving boxes into the studio.
“I just—I don’t get it,” Troy said. “You never do stuff without telling me and Darcy first. You don’t like to surprise us.” Surprises were Daddy’s specialty. Mom, they could predict.
Mom pressed her lips together and lowered her voice. She held her arms against the cold. “Troy, I asked you months ago, and you were okay with it.”
Troy looked right at Mom. “Well, I’m not okay with it now,” he said, and Darcy found herself nodding in agreement with her little brother.
Shivering, she trudged back into the house and sat at Mom’s desk. Cold banded her chest. Elle’s and Maggie’s annoying voices carried from the living room. Footsteps, Drew’s and Aidan’s, sounded from behind the closed door of Daddy’s studio.
She couldn’t pretend anymore Daddy was home, safe and sound, writing away. She couldn’t trick herself into thinking any second now he’d open the door and wrap his arms around her, so she could bury her nose in his citrus-musk scent. She couldn’t—
Darcy dug her nails into her thigh. The flesh gave, and she inhaled sharply.
She vaguely remembered Mom asking her and Troy for permission to rent out Daddy’s studio. Something about unused space, and money that Mom insisted wasn’t crucial. Yeah, right. Darcy might’ve even said she couldn’t care less.
It wasn’t fair.
That was before Darcy had realized she cared a lot, before she understood Daddy’s studio without Daddy’s things killed her father double dead.
Chapter 5
O ther than Aidan, what kind of guy would whistle off to work, psyched to head to the emergency room, her mother’s least favorite destination?
For the past few weeks, Darcy had tried convincing Mom something was very wrong with a man who couldn’t wait to mess around elbow deep in blood and guts, when most men would faint. Last time Darcy ran into Aidan, he’d told her about popping some guy’s dislocated shoulder back into place, complete with sound effects, and she’d nearly gagged. Yet Mom wondered why she’d refused to step inside Daddy’s studio since Aidan had taken it over.
Come to think of it, she might gag today.
On the other side of the kitchen table, Troy was busy eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios in the most disgusting way humanly possible. Little brother had it down to a science. Scoop milk and cereal, slurp milk from spoon, and then munch the O s. Darcy’s bowl of cereal sat untouched. She pushed the bowl away from her and kicked at the overflowing laundry basket by her feet.
Sunday was laundry day, her laundry day. But when she’d come downstairs this morning, the washing machine was already humming with Aidan-the-weirdo’s wash. The dryer churned with Aidan’s clothes, too, making Darcy think of how she’d made out with Nick against the dryer. Of what she’d let him do in there. Of what she hadn’t let him do since.
Not that he hadn’t tried. But whenever Nick came over to her house, Mom lurked. Whenever they parked at the lake, Cam and Heather came along. Darcy made sure of it. And she always had a ready excuse why she couldn’t hang out at his grandmother’s house, where nobody was home. Better to lie than admit she was scared to be alone with him. She’d learned from experience—juniors wouldn’t go out with a virgin for long. The washing machine beeped, but no weirdo emerged
Aidan nodded. “Nice to meet you, Troy.” Aidan put down a box and shook Troy’s hand.
“Finn, friend of Aidan,” Finn said, but Troy’s gaze lingered on Aidan.
“So where’re you putting the desk?” Troy asked, and Aidan exchanged a glance with her mother.
“I asked Aidan to put it out in the shed,” Mom said. “But we could find a place for it in the house, if you’d prefer.”
Troy cleared his throat. “The house would work,” he said, but his voice didn’t return to normal. Troy stared after Aidan as the two men carried Aidan’s guitar and moving boxes into the studio.
“I just—I don’t get it,” Troy said. “You never do stuff without telling me and Darcy first. You don’t like to surprise us.” Surprises were Daddy’s specialty. Mom, they could predict.
Mom pressed her lips together and lowered her voice. She held her arms against the cold. “Troy, I asked you months ago, and you were okay with it.”
Troy looked right at Mom. “Well, I’m not okay with it now,” he said, and Darcy found herself nodding in agreement with her little brother.
Shivering, she trudged back into the house and sat at Mom’s desk. Cold banded her chest. Elle’s and Maggie’s annoying voices carried from the living room. Footsteps, Drew’s and Aidan’s, sounded from behind the closed door of Daddy’s studio.
She couldn’t pretend anymore Daddy was home, safe and sound, writing away. She couldn’t trick herself into thinking any second now he’d open the door and wrap his arms around her, so she could bury her nose in his citrus-musk scent. She couldn’t—
Darcy dug her nails into her thigh. The flesh gave, and she inhaled sharply.
She vaguely remembered Mom asking her and Troy for permission to rent out Daddy’s studio. Something about unused space, and money that Mom insisted wasn’t crucial. Yeah, right. Darcy might’ve even said she couldn’t care less.
It wasn’t fair.
That was before Darcy had realized she cared a lot, before she understood Daddy’s studio without Daddy’s things killed her father double dead.
Chapter 5
O ther than Aidan, what kind of guy would whistle off to work, psyched to head to the emergency room, her mother’s least favorite destination?
For the past few weeks, Darcy had tried convincing Mom something was very wrong with a man who couldn’t wait to mess around elbow deep in blood and guts, when most men would faint. Last time Darcy ran into Aidan, he’d told her about popping some guy’s dislocated shoulder back into place, complete with sound effects, and she’d nearly gagged. Yet Mom wondered why she’d refused to step inside Daddy’s studio since Aidan had taken it over.
Come to think of it, she might gag today.
On the other side of the kitchen table, Troy was busy eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios in the most disgusting way humanly possible. Little brother had it down to a science. Scoop milk and cereal, slurp milk from spoon, and then munch the O s. Darcy’s bowl of cereal sat untouched. She pushed the bowl away from her and kicked at the overflowing laundry basket by her feet.
Sunday was laundry day, her laundry day. But when she’d come downstairs this morning, the washing machine was already humming with Aidan-the-weirdo’s wash. The dryer churned with Aidan’s clothes, too, making Darcy think of how she’d made out with Nick against the dryer. Of what she’d let him do in there. Of what she hadn’t let him do since.
Not that he hadn’t tried. But whenever Nick came over to her house, Mom lurked. Whenever they parked at the lake, Cam and Heather came along. Darcy made sure of it. And she always had a ready excuse why she couldn’t hang out at his grandmother’s house, where nobody was home. Better to lie than admit she was scared to be alone with him. She’d learned from experience—juniors wouldn’t go out with a virgin for long. The washing machine beeped, but no weirdo emerged
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