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“Maisie. This looks amazing. You made all of this?”
“I did. I like to cook. It helps me think.”
“Pfft. Lucky you. I’m a disaster in the kitchen, so I avoid it at all costs.” She loads a couple of fajitas on her plate before snapping a picture. When I raise a questioning brow, she says, “So I can tease the guys in the family group chat later.”
“You all seem close.”
Family group chats. Brunches as a group. Them showing up to the hospital when their brother calls, or helping me move my things from my camper to this place. The Calhoun family is tightly knit from all appearances and what I’ve experienced from them.
“Yeah. We like to razz each other a lot, but I know that if I ever needed them, they’d be there — that’s what family is supposed to be about I think.”
The way she phrased that has me asking, “Was your family not the same?”
She lets out a mirthless chuckle. “No. Not at all. My mother did the bare minimum for me until I graduated high school. Never knew my dad. I have a distant aunt that lives somewhere in Florida, but we’re not close. I didn’t have anyone that I was super close with until I moved to Felt. My friend group there is — was my family until Boone and I got together.”
“That’s really nice. Not that you didn’t have it growing up, but that you have your friends and Boone’s family now.”
“What about you? Where’s your family?”
“My mom left when I was a kid. I grew up with my dad, but he passed away my senior year in high school. So it’s just me now.”
“I’m sorry. That’s rough.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. I met Sean when he came to campus for a criminal justice thing.” I focus on my plate and pushing around the black beans and rice as I give her the broad strokes of our relationship, the abuse, the fear and then the running when I found out I was pregnant.
“Maisie.” Jem’s watery voice pulls my gaze away from my plate. Tears are tracking down her cheeks, her own food forgotten in front of her. “Oh god. I’m so sorry. That’s…”
“It’s okay. I got out,” I say as I pass her a paper towel and then keep one for myself for the wetness dripping down my own face.
“Please tell me that son of a bitch is rotting in prison somewhere,” she says.
I shake my head and take a sip of wine to clear the tightness in my throat. “No. Unfortunately not.”
“Does he know about…” Her gaze goes to Audra who’s conked out in her high chair.
“No. And he never will.” My daughter’s chest shifts slightly with her breath. She always looks so peaceful in sleep.
I take a bite of my, now cold, red rice. “Sorry for ruining dinner.”
A spark of something comes into Jem’s eyes, and I don’t know her well enough yet to pinpoint what it means.
“You didn’t ruin anything. Stop apologizing. Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with your story. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that I want to find him and rip his dick off to shove down his throat right now.”
Temper. That’s what that spark was. Jem was mad for me. For something that happened to me, and that has affection for the bubbly brunette warming my heart.
“Trust me. I’ve thought about it myself.”
“Well between Harlan and Boone if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’d be those two.” Jem laughs, breaking the heavy tension.
I chuckle. “Somehow I don’t think that conversation would go over well.”
Jem raises a brow. “You’d be surprised. Harlan has it bad for you.”
It takes a second for her meaning to penetrate, and when it does, I can’t stop the heat from exploding across my cheeks. “What?” I ask dumbly.
“Harlan Calhoun? The stern town sheriff? The one that watches you like a hawk when you two are in the same room? The one that moved you into his apartment after — I don’t know — about three seconds? The guy that had his brothers at the hospital while you were knocked out? That same guy? He’s got little heart emojis floating around his head and stars in his eyes whenever you’re around.”
“No...that’s just… He’s just being kind and helping until I get back on my feet.”
