“This ain’t your fight, girl,” she calls after me.
I stop and look at her briefly, all politeness gone from my expression.
“It’s my fight if you’re involving her.”
She stomps her foot like a petulant child and walks off, and I can’t help but smile as I hand the clerk my money a few moments later.
What a bitch, honestly.
BECKETT
Clover is a leg-bouncing mess. She’s been strange the whole ride home, talking nonstop, rambling, asking questions, and then answering them herself. She’s nervous. I’m going to get us home and then ask her what the hell happened at the store because she was fine when I dropped her off.
Lennon’s first appointment seemed to go well. They let her paint as she talked and answered some baseline questions to get a read on her current mental health. It’s something I can use in court if it comes down to it, if Lennon gets too stressed out. I’m so fucking irritated with Hannah. If she wanted to come back into her life under regular circumstances, sure, but that’s not the case. She knows what she’s doing is dirty.
Lennon hops out of the truck and slams the door. “Lovey,” she says cautiously.
“Hm?”
“You talked a little bit a lot on the way home today. Did you mean to say all of it out loud?”
My brows shoot up, and I immediately turn to lower the tailgate and start getting stuff out of the truck, letting out a long whistle.
Clover is speechless. Finally. Not that I like her better when she isn’t talking, but the kid’s right. She really did go on for a long time. She stands there slack-jawed as Lennon grabs a bag from me.
“Maybe no more sugar tonight, huh, Lovey? Dad says sometimes sugar gets me bouncing in the halls.”
I’m not even going to correct it. She’s not too far off. She hefts the bag up and walks through the door, hollering for the damn cat. Clover’s jaw is still dropped when she turns to face me, pointing in Lennon’s direction with her thumb.
“I think your kid just essentially told me to shut the fuck up,” she whispers.
“Nah,” I say, grinning at her. “She wouldn’t wanna give up money for the curse jar again after finding out ‘pissed’ is a bad word.”
I grab the rest of the bags, and we walk into the house. When Lennon sees us, she looks at Clover with wide eyes like she’s about to start again and declares she needs to go to bed and runs off to get her pajamas on. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she says, shellshocked. “I talked so much that Lennon would rather go to bed a little early than fight to stay up and hang out.” A chuckle comes from deep in my chest, and it feels good to laugh after all the shit going on in life right now. I follow Lennon upstairs and go through our bedtime routine. As I’m quietly leaving her room, she calls out my name and asks me to hide the candies tomorrow so Clover can have a quieter day. I solemnly agree and head back downstairs to find out what’s going on.
“She might not have said it the right way, but it’s pretty obvious something is up, CJ. What’s got you so rattled?” She begins chewing on the skin beside her thumbnail, but I walk over and take her hands in mine. “I remember not too long ago, some girl in my bed told me I’m not allowed to shut her out,” I say lowly, smiling at her. “C’mon.”
“I’m pretty sure it was inmybed,” she challenges.
“Thoughtyourbed got ruined in your waterfront rental,” I tease.
“Fine, your bed,” she sighs. She grabs a few beers from the fridge and heads out to the firepit swings. It’s a bit crisp out, so I light a fire quickly and sit next to her. She’s chewing on the insides of her cheeks now.
“Alright, Clover Jane, enough. What’s going on?”
She groans and takes a long swig of her beer. “I met someone at the store today.”
My blood turns to ice. Nope. No. Not happening. I’m not letting another guy from down yonder on the Chatta-douchie come in and destroy what I’m finally?—
“Hannah,” she says with disgust, like she had just eaten a mouthful of cold, mushy, unidentifiable food.
“What?!” I choke out.
She nods. “Mhm.” Another swig. “Called me a whore.”
The good news is my blood is no longer ice; it’s fucking boiling.
“She what?!”
