I’m not sure.
“Uncle Easton,” Lainey calls from inside the house.
“I’m on the veranda.”
When she comes out of the house carrying a milkshake, I remember I asked for one.
“Oh, hi, Sylvia,” Lainey greets her as she hands the milkshake to me.
“Hi.” Sylvia gives her a smile. “How are you doing, kiddo?”
Lainey shakes her head, and it looks like she’s about to cry. “Not good.”
“Oh no.” Sylvia takes hold of Lainey’s arm and pulls her into a hug. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”
I set the milkshake down on the ground beside the chair.
Lainey’s tearful eyes meet mine. “Nova saw magazines, and they all had the worst things printed on them about you and her.”
Fuck.
“I’m already dealing with them, but they’ll keep printing fake news as long as people keep buying them,” Sylvia replies.
Knowing Sylvia is comforting Lainey, I get up from my chair. “I’ll be right back,” I say before walking into the house. I glance around and see Nova standing by the glass table in the foyer.
Walking closer, I take in every inch of her face. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a frown line between her eyes, but other than that, she seems okay.
“Hey,” I murmur as I get close to her.
She glances at me quickly before looking down at the stems she’s cutting. “Hey.”
“Lainey told me what happened with the magazines.”
She doesn’t stop cutting the stems but instead works faster.
I come to a standstill beside her and lean my head down to try and catch her eyes.
She glances at me again, but then a flash of pain flits over her face, and she mutters, “Dammit!”
When the scissors drop on the glass table, my eyes flick down, and the moment I see the blood on Nova’s finger, I grab hold of her hand.
“It’s just a little cut,” she says, her voice strained. She yanks away from me and rushes to the guest restroom.
Setting after her, I follow her into the restroom, shutting the door behind us.
Nova shoves her finger under cold water and stares at the sink.
“Want to talk about it?” I ask.
She shakes her head, then her breath hitches, and her face crumbles. “They’re saying the meanest things about you.” A tear spirals down her cheek, and she looks heartbroken when her eyes meet mine. “The one headline said you dumped Rachel at hospice.” Her tears fall faster, each one taking a swing at my heart. “Why do they have to be so cruel?”
“It’s just a bunch of shit to make money.” I pull her against my chest and press a kiss to her hair. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”
She lets out a quivering breath, and when she pulls back, I reluctantly lower my arms.
I shut off the faucet and take a look at the tiny cut on the side of her finger. “It doesn’t look too bad.” I duck my head to catch her eyes again. “In the future, don’t look at any headlines or articles about me.”
She nods. “I’ll avoid the magazine aisle like the plague.”
