Page 92

He glares at me. “What? You’re so high and mighty you have to⁠—”

“Hey, Evelyn,” Violet says, neatly cutting off my dad and doing it by talking loudly, far more loudly than I’ve ever heard her speak, “would you like to see Joan’s garden? Her roses are some of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

Lex, sitting next to my dad, snorts and I don’t miss Hugo’s eyes sliding over to my brother.

And lingering.

More judging.

Great.

My dad starts turning red as he glares at Violet.

“You don’t mind,” she says, facing him head on, her spine of steel on full display, my dad’s glower no match for her icy armor, “do you Steve? I know how much you love all the hard work that Joan puts into your guys’ garden. Just yesterday you were telling me how proud you were of the grass out back.”

My dad’s mouth opens and closes.

Probably because he loves that damn lawn.

“And Joan,” she says, turning her focus to my mom, “I think you mentioned you were going to be entering a few of your blooms into the county fair. Is that right?”

My mom nods, but doesn’t look up from her hands, her shoulders slumped.

I don’t know why she stays with my dad—except that she seems to get off on the toxicity as much as he does.

“I’d love to see your roses,” Evelyn says gently—as is her way, I’m coming to learn.

“Great.” Violet pops to her feet and my eyes are drawn to her heels—silver, strappy, and with lots of sparkles. I wonder how much they cost.

And wonder if she’ll wear them and nothing else for me.

After she takes that fucking bun out of her hair.

“Should we go take a look before the sun sets?” she asks, the offending bun bobbing slightly as she takes a step toward the hall.

Evelyn nods, not hiding the relief sliding across her face as she gets to her feet too.

“Mom?” I prompt when she doesn’t move, just continues to stare at her hands. “Are you going to go with them?”

She doesn’t respond.

Christ, next is going to come the tears.

I start to move to her, hoping to head them off, but Noble’s closer and he beats me there. “Mom,” he says, grabbing her hand and drawing her to her feet. “Mrs. Laurent wants to see your roses.”

My mom’s lip trembles.

“Joan,” Violet calls, catching her eyes. “Come with us?”

“Really,” Evelyn coaxes. “I’d love to see your roses.” Her gaze slides to Noble’s. “And it’s Evelyn. Please.”

“Of course, Mrs. Laurent,” he says smoothly.

It’s Beck who snorts this time.

But, in fairness, I almost do the same.

Because Noble is such a suck up. He’s always been a bit of one—with his teachers, with his coaches, with our parents, and tonight, with the Laurents.