“Lexi, I said you need to leave. Get off my property.”
“You are delusional. I’ve been here this entire time, and you’re kicking me aside because of Eden?” She says her name as if disgusted. “You’ll never fit in with her and—”
“This has nothing to do with anyone. I told you not to talk to me in public and—”
“Oh, so the fuck what? What’s wrong if people find out about us?” she yells. I live on the sparse side of town. I don’t have to worry about anyone hearing her. “You had no problem with me those times I sucked your dick. Do you think Eden will let you try to put it up her ass or tie her up like you did me? You think she’ll let you come on her tits? That little uppity bitchis—”
“I said shut up!” I yell so loud she jumps back. “You have three seconds to get in your fucking car and leave, or I’m going to take it back.” It’s an empty threat. I bought it outright, and it’s in her name. When all she does is stand there, I say, “One.”
That does the trick because she runs to her car and backs out of my driveway.
I remain outside until I no longer see the lights of her car. I stomp into my house, slam the door, and wonder how the hell my night went sideways so quickly.
Chapter 12
Eden
It was like dèjá vu waking up this morning, except I was on that uncomfortable, lumpy ass bed my parents had kept in the apartment since before I was born.
The girls were on the couch when Cori woke up, freaking out about her car. But when we checked outside, her Explorer was parked in my driveway.
We all stared at each other but didn’t say a word about it. Everyone was hungover, and I was out of bottled water in my apartment. I looked like too much of a disaster to go to the main house to get some.
Cori and Selene left minutes after waking up, promising to see me soon.
A few hours later, I’ve managed to pull myself together enough to shower and dress, but my head pounds. It’s a brisk late March morning, and after putting on something suitable for today’s events, I slide on a pair of slippers and carry my heels in my hand.
I walk into the main house and find my dad in the kitchen. He puts a finger to his lips while he swipes a piece of bacon.
“Are you stealing, Sheriff?” I tease as I wrap my arms around him.
He kisses my head like he did when I was a little girl. Randall Rose might be well over six feet tall, broad, and stern-looking, but he will always be the daddy who helped me pick dandelions in the summer and put band-aids on my booboos after falling off my bike. He will also always be the mediator between my sister and me.
“Don’t tell your mom. You look pretty,” he says. He always says that no matter what I wear. “Your breakfast is in the microwave. Eat fast. You know how your sister gets when we’re late.”
I roll my eyes, but I grab a bottle of water and down it in record time before I inhale the bacon, eggs, and toast that were left for me. I’m done and reapplying the lipstick sample I got at the mall when Mom walks into the kitchen, looking stunning in a gray pantsuit.
“Hey, baby,” my mom says. She blows me a kiss and pours herself a cup of coffee. “You look good.”
I glance down at the navy blue, modest wrap-around dress I’m wearing. It is what it is. I don’t love wearing dresses, but it’s the least I can do since I’m attending my nephew’s christening today.
We leave soon after, and once I climb in the back of my dad’s Chevy Suburban, I put on my shoes and relax.
I’m not going to think about him today, and I’m relieved there was no rose on my door when I stepped outside this morning. I’ve decided to use the new phone. My old one will no longer turn on, and I can’t afford a new one. There’s no scenario where I can ask my parents for the money since I’ve been lying to them about my finances.
“Have you started looking for a place yet, Dandy?” my dad asks from the driver’s seat, calling me by my childhood nickname.
My mom looks in his direction and wipes a smudge from his cheek.
He playfully pushes her hand away. “Stop putting your spit on me, woman.”
“Um, not yet.”
“What about a car?”
I mull my words. “I want to save a bit more money for the down payment for both.” That’s technically true. What they don’t know is that I can’t even afford a down payment on a second-hand jalopy.
“You can move into the big house, babe,” my mom says. “Take your old bedroom.”
