“Thank you.” I groan as he finally gives in.
“Two peas in a pod,” he grumbles and starts cooking. I wait at the entrance of the kitchen, watching everyone move around the bar. People usually arrive a little earlier for dinner unless they’re planning on staying for when the Hollow becomes a true pub with loud music and louder drunks.This is my favorite part of the day—the calm before the storm.
I close my eyes just for a second, trying to rearrange all the thoughts flying around in my mind, but all I find is the familiar darkness—proof of how unstable I still am.
“Here,” Boone breaks the silence and holds out a plate and a can of Sprite. “Oh,” he says, turning away and popping open a fridge, “take these.” He drops two small closed containers in my hand, both full of jalapeños. “She likes extra.”
I nod, trying not to react to how much it pisses me off thatheknows that about her, closing my hand around them and wandering up the stairs to the apartment. I lock the door behind me with a spare finger and can instantly hear the music pouring from the crack beneath her door and smell a soft lavender scent moving through the apartment that makes my jaw clench.
I knock once, waiting to hear proof of life. Nothing. So I twist the knob and ease the door open. Daisy is sitting at her desk with her phone in front of her, doing homework.
“Is that a quesadilla?” she asks, her nose betraying whatever she’s angry about.
“Yeah,” I say. “Extra jalapeños.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I know she sees through it all.
“Boone sent them up,” I confess.
“I know.” She confirms as I set the plate down on her desk.
“Where did you get that?” I point to the candle lit on her desk.
“Uncle Ryan and C get me one every birthday, from Auntie,” she says, and I stare at the light purple candle.Of course they do.
Riona’s brother is Ryan Cody. Coach of the Harbor Hornets, and Cael Cody’s father. The family from hell. The only person in that family that ever treated me like one, was Lorraine. Cael's mother, but a lot has changed since she died and I don't think even she would look at me in the same light. I swallow hard at the thought, angry any everyone but myself for a moment but I can never let her see that rage toward them because they treat Daisy like gold and that’sallthat matters.
“Smells nice,” I manage. I back away—clearly uninvited—as she pops the tab on her Sprite and turns away from me. “Hey Daisy,” I say to her, stopping before I leave her alone completely.
“Yeah, Dad?” She doesn’t look at me, but at least she responds.
“Is something going on?” I ask her. “Anything I can—”
“No,” she’s quick to shut me down.
“Are you sure?” I wait, watching her pull apart her food and load it up.
“I’m fine. I have homework to do,” she clips, and I take my leave, shutting the door behind me.
Something is wrong, I can feel it, but without her cooperation, there’s so little I can do short of calling her mother or asking Rhea for information; she teaches her art… she might know something. But that just makes me a busybody and breaks what fickle trust Daisy does have in me.
Speaking of, as I come back into the kitchen, Rhea comes through the front door, drops her duffel, and kicks off her shoes. She’s got her headphones in and is singing at the top of her lungs like the world can’t touch her. I cross my arms and lean against the archway to watch her spin around the kitchen in her socks with a smile on her face.The worst part?A smile creeps onto my mouth, and I can’t stop it.
She jumps out of her skin as she turns to see me watching her, and the headphones get tugged from her ears roughly. “Hi.” She says, completely out of breath.
“Hi.” I shake my head and brush off the amusement to get ready to open the Hollow for the evening, but I stop at the door. “Do you know if anything’s going on with Daisy?” I ask, despite my better judgment. “She seems to talk to Sunday more than me, and she’s been a little off lately.”
Rhea’s eyes flicker to the hall and back to me. “Not that I know of? Maybe it’s just teenage hormones?” She smiles.
“Yeah, maybe…” I take her answer, but it doesn’t do anything to soothe how I’m feeling.
“What the hell is this?” I slap my phone down on the steel counter, and Boone turns to look at the screen with both hands in the air, covered in seasonings. It’s been two weeks of Daisy sulking around like someone kicked her dog, and she still won’t talk to me. It’s been so bad that my finger gets itchy over her mother's number, but then I chicken out because I’m not ready to have that fight.
“Uh,” Boone’s face scrunches up as he reads, “can you… Can you get my glasses?” he asks, and I reach over to the top of the sink and flick the tortoise shell frames open and slide them onto his nose. “It’s an email from Daze’s homeroom teacher. She wants you to come into the school at your earliest convenience for a conversation…”
“I know that Boone,” I snap. “What the fuck does it mean?”
“Means you need to go to the school, Bri,” he scowls, “if you’re gonna be a dickhead, stop asking for advice.” He turns away from me and goesback to the chicken he was messing with for lunch rush. “Go to the school, I’ll be here,” he says when I don’t move.
