Page 83 of Where I Should’ve Been

I don’t move, clinging desperately to the table instead. “What if we don’t and say we did?”

“Come on, Breeze, don’t go soft on me now. Time to woman up.”

“I’m scared, Norah.” The words are as quiet as air.

“Oh honey, I know. But I promise…scary as it is—and it is terrifying—being a mother is the best thing that could ever happen to you.”

I nod. “Let me go brush my teeth really quickly.”

Norah nods. “Take your time. We’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

“Funny thing about being ready when it comes to this—I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Norah’s wink is comforting in the strangest way. I can’t explain it, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. “Then, honey…you’re right on schedule.”

33

Tad

Snow still blankets most of Red Bridge, but Bennett Bishop apparently took that as an invitation to start an outdoor bonfire like it’s the Fourth of July.

“We’ve got a problem,” I say, circling the old, rusted barrel he’s using as a burn pit and watching as the flames lick dangerously high. He’s already tossed in a pile of cardboard, a busted chair leg, and—God help us—a splash of gasoline from a red can that may be on the back deck but is still way too close for comfort.

The snow around the barrel is melting fast, revealing patches of muddy grass and steam rising in ghostly curls. I dig my heel into the slush, dragging a line of dirt between the blaze and the nearest pine tree like it might somehow stop Bennett Bishop from burning down half of Red Bridge.

“Yeah,” Logan agrees. “We do, Ted. And it’s your attitude.”

“You don’t call him Ted,” Bennett sings, bouncing Autumn from hip to hip while she laughs. “I call him Ted.”

“You don’t own the name,” Logan asserts, his smile as brittle as Bennett’s high notes.

“How about the two of you call me Tad since that’s my name,” I suggest. “And I’m not the problem. The three of us being dismissed to the outdoors without any answers or resolution to why the heck you were shouting down the whole world while Breezy cried in the first place is the problem.” I sigh. “Not to mention, this burn barrel is getting a little wild.”

“Zip it, Ted,” they say in unison, making me sigh.

Autumn is still on Bennett’s hip, and he hands her a piece of cardboard, which she tosses into the fire hazard burn barrel with glee. “Burns! Poof!” she exclaims in glee, making her little pigtails bounce up and down.

Bennett looks over at me, and whatever he sees on my face makes him chuckle like a real asshole. “Don’t get your panties in a twist over the barrel, Ted,” he says. “There’s too much snow to start a forest fire. And trust me, if I wanted to blow up your farm, I would’ve done it a long fu—effin’ time ago.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Bennett—and that dickhead Logan too, frankly—to fuck off, but being responsible for one toddler-repeated f-bomb is enough on my conscience for the day.

“You know, Ted, I am curious, though. Why are you still here? In fact, why are you here at all?” Bennett asks, his eyes moving back to me as his gaze searches my face closely. “Even though Logan isn’t welcome here, I know why he showed up like an uninvited di—dummy. But you? I don’t—”

Before he can finish that thought, Norah and Breezy bust out of the house.

“We’ll be back!” Norah calls out, making pointed eye contact with Bennett as she leads the way by holding open the door and ushering Breezy through.

“Where are you going? When will you be back?” Bennett asks, and Norah doesn’t hesitate to answer with straight-up sass.

“None of your business. And we’ll be back when we get home.” No doubt, she’s still ticked off about the scuffle that just occurred in her house.

“Love you, Nore,” Bennett says, the man clearly trying to gauge just how pissed his wife is.

“Love you too, you big dummy!”

Bennett just chuckles, still holding Autumn on his hip, and the two of them wave bye to Norah and Breezy.

I fight to meet Breezy’s eyes the entire time, but she clutches her purse and takes great interest in the ground. So much so, I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew the count of every blade of grass.