“And what?”
“Dad!” Oscar intervenes like he’s the adult.
I swivel my head in his direction and see Henri next to him, frozen in spot, her eyes wide in shock.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Brody sucks in a breath as he eyes the kids. Then he turns his back and puts distance between us.
“Sorry,” I say to Henri. I might come home looking like I’ve been attacked by a lion, but I’ve never let the violence touch her. My dad believed a good spanking and a lot of yelling would stop me from misbehaving. It never worked, which meant there was a whole lot of punishment until he and mom split.
I wasn’t exactly traumatized by my childhood, but still, the day I found out I was pregnant I knew I’d never raise a hand against my kid.
Henri sidles close to me as she catches Oscar’s eye. “You’re dad’s as mean as you are.”
Brody turns and faces me. “I’m not like that, Fleming. I wouldn’t have hit you.” His voice sounds shaky.
I scrub my face because I was about to punch him. I’d be a hypocrite if I said otherwise. “It’s over and done with.”
“Yeah. It is.” To Oscar and Henri, he says. “Get those tents set up. Stop screwing around. Selkie and I’ll get some lunch on.”
Who put you in charge? I think but don’t say because I do have some survival instincts.
Oscar’s dead eyes move between Brody and me before settling on Henri. “Let’s go,” he says grimly.
Henri tenses but keeps her mouth shut, turns and stalks towards the tents. I’m proud of her constraint. And me too, for not telling both Brodys to fuck off.
Brody and I watch them for a moment as they pick up the tent and start working together, then I turn to him. “That was stupid. I don’t do that in front of my kid.”
“Yeah,” he says as starts setting up the barbecue.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned Oscar’s mother. Not in front of him.” I’m curious though about Brody’s reaction. “What happened to her?”
“None of your fucking business,” he says coldly without looking at me.
I’m hurt by his response, then remind myself that men do that. They hurt you. You start to like them and they treat you like you’re optional in their lives. I think of our fight. What he and I did in front of our 12-year-olds. No wonder they treat each other like shit.
We continue the set-up with clipped words and brevity. But it gets done. Tents are up, lunch is served, then we all go our separate ways. Henri and Oscar aren’t really interacting but they’re keeping their distance from Brody and me. Brambles runs back and forth between them, then jumps in the bed of the truck.
Henri jumps in with him.
Oscar picks up some sticks and heads toward the shallow creek. Maybe he’s planning to build a dam.
I feel Brody at my shoulder, too close, but I can’t step away or I lose. “At least they’re getting along now. In solidarity I guess,” he says, extending the olive branch.
I think about taking it, trying to make peace with him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Then I’d start to want Brody and me to be a thing. And we can’t be a thing. It’s too risky for my heart.
Chapter Seven
Eight
Selkie and I seem to have solved the problem between Henri and Oscar. I’m not proud of how we did it, but at the same time, the quiet of the evening is a relief to my sensory overload. I like life simple and uncomplicated. None of this bullshit is simple and uncomplicated.
We’re all stiffly polite when we say goodnight and crawl into our respective tents.
“I can’t deal with this,” Oscar says grimly as he tosses and turns in his sleeping bag, then abruptly sits up. “They’re both too much.” He raises his hands to his head and explodes his fingers outwards.
“Yeah,” I say because he’s right, but at the same time, my behavior today left a lot to be desired. “I lost my temper. Shouldn’t have.”
