“But guess who isnotnew to this town?The MacLaines.We settled this area in 1865 and built this town.There would be no Sweetbriar without the MacLaines, no elementary school.So, the next time you even think about opening your mouth to Emma to say something nasty, you need to picture in your mind that you’re speaking tome.Maybe that will help you keep your trap shut.Thanks for your time.”
The room is silent.I hear the rustle of people turning back around in their chairs now, looking at me again.I’m ashamed, completely humiliated.
IknowI’m going to puke.
Now I’m sure that Finn sees me as a helpless, powerless victim who needs to be saved.Not his partner.Not his equal.He’s not here to tell the world that he loves me.He only wants them to know that I’m a pathetic victim under his protection.
I cannot wait to get out of this room.I hear Finn’s boots pound on the tile, exit the classroom, and head into the hallway.I know he's waiting for me in the lobby or on the sidewalk or next to the SUV I drove to school this afternoon.
But I can't talk to him.I can't face him.Not now.Not ever.
I’ve changed my mind about the crispy treats and being on snack duty.I plan on being the last adult here.It’ll be hours until I return to the ranch.
“Well, then,” Tammy says, her voice abnormally chipper.“Face painting, balloon animals, and tacos it is!Thank you, everyone, for showing up today.Really appreciate it.Now let's all get out there and play some cornhole!”
CHAPTER 70
Finn
“Sonofabitch!”
“Daddy!You sound like Uncle Declan again!”
“Sorry, sweetie.”
I grab a dish towel and try to retrieve the prime rib from the floor.I’ve burned the hell out of my hand.Smoke curls up from the oven.
“Maybe I’ll eat chicken nuggets,” Jasmine says, looking at the floor.
I can’t blame her.My dinner has literally exploded.There are mashed potatoes on the ceiling.Declan and Evander deserted me when they got an eyeful of what was happening in the kitchen, and when they heard that Emma was still at Dad’s and that her cooking was not on the menu tonight.
In the horse world, we call it “food-motivated” behavior.
Jasmine and Special K stayed, though, and I’m glad.
My brother’s sitting at the island counter with his hands steepled, patient as a Buddha.I manage to get the prime rib off the floor, and I drop it on the counter.
“You better not be taunting me,” I tell him.“Because I’m not in the mood to be mocked.Why aren’t you over at Dad’s like everyone else?Aren’t you afraid of my cooking?That you’ll get botulism or something?Don’t you think I’m helpless without Emma?”
“Hey, man.Meat’s meat.I came for meat.You have meat.I don’t do drama, and Dad’s house is drama.Is the meat almost ready?”
“Knock yourself out.”I gesture toward the prime rib and hand him the carving knife.
K cuts himself several thick, rare slices, arranges them on a plate, and then carries the plate to the island.He sits.He snarfs it down.
Jasmine eyes the whole scene with her mouth turned down.“I’ll put the chicken nuggets in the microwave.You don’t have to help me, Daddy.But I’ll have some of the mashed potatoes that aren’t on the ceiling.”
Two hours later, Special K has taken the leftovers home, and I’ve finally finished cleaning up the disaster in the kitchen.Emma is still at my father’s, and I assume she’s going to stay there.She’s probably already looking for another job.
I take an armful of kitchen towels into the laundry room.I throw them in the washer, choose a setting, and add everything that needs to be added.
I don’t need Emma.Not to wash the kitchen towels anyway.
For every other thing, yes.I want her here with me.
I need her with me.
I fight the urge to pick up something else and break it.Special K had to fish the bistro chair out of the deep end.He also cleaned up the broken pottery.
