He lifted a brow. “You’re in a good mood.”
I shot him a look before I deposited a bottle of mustard on the counter. “That a problem?”
He held up his hands. “Nope.” Then he muttered, “Just suspicious.”
Wes and I had grown up next door to each other in our hometown, about an hour from Canyon. My sister and I moved around a bit after we entered the foster care system when I was five. Temporary homes were all we knew until an older couple, Ray and Cecile Rusk, were brought into our lives. They never had children, and after a few months of fostering, they officially adopted me and Olivia.
It only took a few weeks to meet the boy next door, and we’d been like brothers ever since. Even through college. Even when we went our separate ways, and I ended up drafted to the Panthers, while he had to set aside his football dream toget married and become a dad. His choice to go the coaching route instead of playing professionally worked out for the best when Kassidy bailed. By pure luck, I landed this job after my injury. But the only bad thing about sharing our history was that heknewme. And apparently, he could tell I was still reeling from my innocent grocery store conversation. Which meant I needed to tone that shit down. The last thing I wanted was more questions.
“Maybe you should focus on the shit staining your face.” I tossed a tomato at him, which he caught with quick hands.
“Fuck off.”
With a laugh, I glanced at the small blue box, flashes of auburn hair tracing my memory. Shockingly, the only thing I wanted to do was run into her again.
4
Trinity
All the groceries had been put away, and I had just started to sweep the floor when a knock sounded at the front door. I wiped my hands along my jean shorts before I twisted the lock and opened the door.
“Sweetheart.”
My father stood stoically in the frame. His hair wasn’t as brown as it was the last time I’d seen him. Gray weaved at his temples, and his beard matched, the silver strands gleaming against the setting sun.
“Come on in.” I waved an arm, motioning him to come inside.
When he stepped past the threshold, I peered out onto the porch to see if he was alone.
He passed me with tense shoulders, his leather shoes slapping against the wooden floor as his hands dove into the pockets of his slacks.
He must have seen my reaction.
“Jodie stayed home with the twins.” He cleared his throat, then turned, frowning at the broom in my hand. “I had acleaning crew come in earlier this week. Was it not done properly?” He already had his phone out.
“Oh.” I laughed awkwardly. “The floor just gathered some dust on my trips in and out from the U-Haul.”
His expression softened. “I told you I’d hire movers, Trinity. You didn’t have to unload all of your things.”
My knuckles whitened as I gripped the broom handle. I appreciated his concern, but it was the Rodney Maxwell way to toss money at you.Pay for this, pay for that.I didn’t want his money now, just like I didn’t as a kid. I wanted his time. His attention. His love.
“It was no problem. I didn’t have that much, considering this place was furnished.”
He dipped his chin, the tension between us pulling my skintight. I hated it.
“The security system should be ready to go. I’ll show you the code. This neighborhood is one of the safest.” He strode toward the front door, to the small white box mounted on the wall. “Code is 2005.” He tapped his fingers on the lit screen. “It’s easy to use and will alert the police within two minutes if triggered.”
“Am I going to need the police?” I asked, my arms crossing.
A light chuckle left his lips. “I highly doubt it. Plus”—he tilted his head at the window— “one of my coaches lives across the street. He can keep an eye out and if you need anything in an emergency, you can give him a call.”
I nodded, unsure where to lead the conversation next, so I just settled for, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He gave a small smile. “I’m really glad you decided to come, Trin. I’m looking forward to spending some time with you. Jodie and the twins would love to get to know you too.”
A twinge of jealousy sparked in my chest, but I pushed it away. It wasn’t the twins’ fault. They did nothing wrong, and it wasirrational to blame two five-year-olds for my insecurities and his mistakes. But the fact he was there every night for dinner and for bedtime routines for them when he was rarely even in the same state for me stung.
“I am too,” I answered, forcing a smile.
