Page 114

“Mabel.” I’m under no delusion as to who ate her crust. “If Duke pukes, you’re helping me clean it.”

She grins. “Okay, Mommy.”

“I’m serious Mabel. Not cool.” I’m already on my way to the couch where Duke is chowing down on the crust. I can tell the bites up until the crust are human, so I don’t protest as my little demoness in training slides her sugary treat onto her plate.

I snatch the crust from Duke before lifting him into my arms. I toss him outside to puke up whatever he’s going to puke up—hopefully. Then I wash my hands.

I’m turning to my pizza when my bloody doorbell rings again. This time, I blurt it loud for everyone to hear. “What the fuck?”

“Mom!” Mabel scolds. “That’s a bad word.”

“Says the girl who just lied to me.” I hold up a finger and stomp to the door. I’m not just a mess. I’m frazzled in a not great way and it’s starting to show. “Not now, Mabel.”

I hear Tanner ask Holt, “Bet you’re looking forward to the day you get to ditch again, eh?”

I swing open the door to see Mom and Dad standing close, beaming bright and curiously. I don’t hear Holt’s reply, even though I wish I had.

The knots in my belly are cinched too tightly.

“You’re back,” I say to my parents. I feel like I’ve run a marathon. I probably don’t look much better.

“We just got in.” Mom peers nosily around me. “You’ve got trucks in your driveway.”

I peer around her. “It would appear that I do.”

“Manly trucks.” There’s a discomfiting kind of excitement in Mom’s voice that has prickles of anxiety rising to spill from my pores.

I force a smile. “Women drive trucks, too, Mom.”

Dad pushes his way inside. “I smell pizza.”

I deflate and swing my door wider. “Come in.”

Mom gasps a sharp inhale. “Oh, Holt.”

She hurries toward him, and I wince at the sharp sting in my heart when she moves in close, and he gathers her in his arms. His eyes connect with mine as he hugs my mom. I feel emotionally and physically bludgeoned as she says shakily, “I missed you, Holt Wilder.”

There’s none of the boy I used to know in Holt’s rough reply. “I missed you all, too.”

19

GOING TO HELL

MAY 2023 – PRESENT DAY

When I arrive at the office Monday morning there’s a cup from Cherry’s sitting on my desk. Next to it is a gooey glazed croissant drizzled in chocolate atop a napkin.

I can hear Holt in the back office. He’s on the phone. I’m pretty sure he’s arranging to have a basement poured, but I tune him out as I settle behind my desk. Then I glare at the coffee and treat. One, if I keep indulging in Cherry’s croissants, I’m going to need to add another thirty minutes to my morning workout. Two, WTF?

The man has been tense, and borderline irate with me since he returned to oversee Wilder Builds and Reno’s while Herman recovered. Now he’s bringing me my favorite latte and treat, like it’s nothing. Normal.

It’s not.

I power on my laptop. I obviously have very little willpower, because as the laptop is doing its thing, I nab the cup and take a generous sip.

Oh, my goodness sooooo good.

I log in to the company email, opening the titled Kepler Residence. I scan the images and smile. This was Elise’s idea, implemented years ago. Before and after a project is complete, photos are sent to the company email. It’s fun to see the transformations.