“He thinks I forgive his mistakes too easily.He asked, if my dad came back, would I forgive him just as easily.”
Carefully, Gran asked, “Would you?”
“No.”I didn’t even have to think about it.“No, I wouldn’t forgive him.My entire life, I’ve struggled with feelin’ good enough.It affected the way I see myself.Like, with friends.I wanted them to like me.I was desperate for them to like me.But when they did, it was me who let the friendship fade.Because I didn’t feel good enough to have them as a friend.I tell myself they’re better off without me.”
“Honey, I didn’t know you felt like that.”
I shrugged.“You and Mama had enough on your plates.I didn’t want to make you worry, and I guess I’ve always felt like my feelings didn’t matter as much as other people’s.And that’s exactly why I wouldn’t forgive my father, even if he came crawling back on his hands and knees.
“No kid deserves to feel like they don’t matter.”
“You matter to me,” Gran said.“I love you.You’re important in my life.There’s not a minute of my day that I’m not thinkin’ about you or wishin’ good things for you.”
Hugging her again, I said, “I know, Gran.I love you too.And maybe if I hadn’t known how much you and Mama loved me, things would’ve been darker for me.Thankfully, we’ll never have to find out.”
Gran nodded again.She picked up the duster and shook it in the air.Dust motes floated down all around her.“Well, that’s that.I’ve said what I wanted to about Dixon.Now, thatCodyis another story.Don’t think he’s done with you.I saw it in his eyes at the courthouse.You just be careful, Avery.Hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
ChapterThirty-One
Dixon
Knocking softlyon AJ’s front door, I held the bouquet I’d driven all the way to Jackson and back for in my shitty car, missing her the whole way and wishing she was with me.
When she opened it, I pushed the frilly bunch toward her and said, “I’m sorry.”
I felt pretty clever, giving flowers to a floral artist, and that was an apt title.AJ was indeed an artist.And I would bet money she didn’t receive them often, which was why I had to go to Jackson.I couldn’t very well show up at the local florist’s house with a cheap handful of half-dead carnations from the Stop and Go.If I had, something told me she would’ve slammed the door in my face.
Old country music played in her house—Shania Twain, if I wasn’t wrong—and she’d tied her hair back with what looked like the torn sleeve of a T-shirt, like a headband.The knees of her peach sweatpants were dirty, her tank top damp with sweat down the middle, and her feet bare.Her porch light cast a warm glow over her face and created shadows everywhere else.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the flowers from my hand, the tissue paper wrapped around them crinkling quietly.“They’re gorgeous.Where’d you get them?”
“King’s Floral in Jackson.They said they knew you, and the woman behind the counter made this specially for you.”
“Was it Kim?”she asked, and a gust of wind flowed from behind her, whipping through her hair.
I shrugged.“Dunno, but she had hair dyed the color of a purple crayon.”Looking past her shoulder, I asked, “The window guys haven’t replaced your window yet?”
AJ smiled, and her hazel eyes warmed.“That’s Kim King.She’s a sweetheart.Come in.”She stepped back to allow me in, spun on her foot, and I followed her to the kitchen.“The contractor cancelled, said he’d be here first thing Monday mornin’.”
“You know Brand owns a construction company, right?I could ask him if he?—”
“Thank you.I appreciate the offer.If they cancel again, I can ask Brand for a recommendation, but I’d prefer to take care of it on my own.”She leaned against the kitchen counter, still facing away from me, and tapped her phone on the counter.The music stopped, and she sighed.“I’m sorry.I must look like hell.I’ve been cleanin’ for hours.”Pulling a glass vase from a low cabinet, she went on.“I clean when I’m upset or tryin’ to make heads or tails of things.”
I sat at her kitchen island and set my phone and keys on top.“I upset you.”
It wasn’t a question.I knew it was the truth, and it had been eating at me for days.
“I’m sorry about that.I was unkind.”
“No, you weren’t unkind.”She filled the vase three-quarters with water from the tap.“It’s not just our conversation the other night botherin’ me, but what you said was true, and I’ve spent the last couple days thinkin’ about it.”
“AJ?”
She plopped the flowers into the water and fluffed them a bit, watching as they fell into place, pruning a few loose leaves with her fingers, and then she turned to face me.“What?”
“You’re doin’ it again.”
