by Lucy Score
I added “phone etiquette” to the growing list of things Knox Morgan was bad at.
He returned looking even angrier. Ignoring me, he produced a wallet and fished out a few bills, then fed them into the soda machine.
“What do you want?” he muttered.
“Uh. Water, please.”
He punched the buttons harder than I thought necessary. And a bottle of water and two Yellow Lightnings fell out onto the ground.
“Here.” He shoved the water at me and headed back to the room.
“Uh. Thanks?” I called after him.
I debated for about thirty seconds whether or not I should just start walking until I found a new reality that was less terrible. But it was just a mental exercise. There was no way I could walk away. I had a new responsibility. And with that responsibility would come some sense of purpose. Probably.
I returned to my room and found Knox examining the lock on the door. “No finesse,” he complained.
“Told her she should’ve picked it,” Waylay said, cracking open her soda.
“It’s barely eight in the morning, and you gave her a soda,” I hissed at Knox as I resumed my sentry stance in front of the mound in the corner.
He looked at me, then beyond me. Nervously I spread my arms and tried to block his view.
“That some kind of tablecloth?” he asked, peering past me.
“Wedding dress,” Waylay announced. “Mom said it was ugly as hell.”
“Yeah, well, Tina wouldn’t know good taste if it hit her over the head with a Birkin bag,” I said, feeling defensive.
“Does that dress mean I have an uncle out there somewhere?” she asked, nodding at the pile of lace and underskirt that had once made me feel like a fairy princess but now only made me feel like a fool.
“No,” I said firmly.
Knox’s eyebrows raised fractionally. “You just decided to take a wedding dress on a road trip?”
“I really don’t see how this is any of your business,” I told him.
“Hair’s done up like she was going someplace fancy,” Waylay mused, eyeing me.
“Sure looks that way, Way,” Knox agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking amused.
I did not like the two of them ganging up against me.
“Let’s worry less about my hair and a dress than what we’re going to do next,” I suggested. “Waylay, did your mom say anything about where she was going?”
The girl’s eyes zeroed back on the screen. Her slim shoulders shrugged. “Dunno. Just said I was your problem now.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Thankfully I didn’t have to answer because a brisk knock had all three of us looking at the open door.
The man standing in it made me suck in a little breath. Knockemout sure grew them hot. He was dressed in a spotless dark blue uniform with a very shiny badge. There was a nice layer of stubble accentuating a strong jaw. His shoulders and chest were broad, hips and waist tapered. His hair was close to blond. There was something familiar about his eyes.
“Knox,” he said.
“Nash.” His tone was as cold as his eyes.
“Hey, Way,” the newcomer said.
Waylay gave the man a head nod. “Chief.”
His eyes came to me.
“You called the police?” I squeaked at Knox. My sister was a terrible person, and I was definitely going to let her know that. But calling the police felt so final.
FOUR
“YOU’RE NOT STAYING HERE.”
Naomi
“You must be Naomi,” the cop said.
I might have been mid-panic attack, but I kind of liked the way he said my name in a friendly drawl.
Knox apparently did not like it because he was suddenly placing his muscled bulk directly in front of me, feet planted wide, arms crossed.
“I am,” I said, peering around Knox. The oaf didn’t budge when I nudged him in the back.
The man looked back to Knox, and whatever he saw there had him grinning.
“I’m chief of police around here, but you can call me Nash. It’s real nice to meet you, Naomi. Sorry it’s under these circumstances. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Um. Okay,” I said, suddenly wishing I would have taken a moment to wash my face and fix my hair. I probably looked like a deranged, zombie bridesmaid.
“Why don’t we have ourselves a chat out in the parking lot,” Nash said with a jerk of his head.
Waylay’s attention was back on the movie as she sipped lime green sugar.
“Sure.” I followed him out and was surprised when Knox joined us. He headed right over to Nash’s SUV, which read Knockemout Police down the side, and leaned belligerently against the hood.
“You’re not necessary for this part,” Nash told him.
Knox bared his teeth. “You want me to leave, gonna have to make me.”
“I’m sorry. He’s been like this all morning,” I explained to Nash.
“Honey, he’s been like this his entire life,” the chief countered.
It didn’t hit me until they turned identical glares on each other. “You’re brothers, aren’t you?”
“No shit,” Knox grumbled.
“Sure are,” Nash said, turning his full wattage grin on me. “I’m the good one.”
“Just do your fucking job,” Knox said.
“Oh, now you want me to do my job. You can see how I’d be confused since—”
“Gentlemen,” I cut in. This was going nowhere fast. I didn’t have the energy to diffuse the tension between the brothers, and we had more important concerns. “I don’t mean to overstep. But can we get to the part about my sister?” I suggested.
“I think that’s a fine idea, Naomi,” Nash said, winking as he pulled out a notebook.
Knox growled.
“Let’s get your statement, and then we’ll figure out what needs to happen next.”
A man with a plan and a smile. He was certainly more pleasant than his brother.
“You’re saying I can just take possession of a human being?” I clarified a few minutes later. I really needed more coffee. My cognitive abilities were fading fast.
“Well, I wouldn’t advise on referring to it as ‘taking possession.’ But in Virginia, kinship care is a way for kids to stay with a family member as guardian when they can’t be with their own parents.”
I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw a guarded look pass between the brothers.
“So I would become Waylay’s guardian?”
Things were moving so fast. One second, I was getting ready to walk down the aisle. The next, I was suddenly in charge of deciding the future of an eleven-year-old stranger.
Nash swept a hand through his thick hair. “Temporarily. You’re obviously a stable, healthy adult.
“What happens if I don’t?” I hedged.
“Juvenile and Domestic Relations will place Waylay in a foster home. If you’ve got no problems staying in town for a few weeks while we figure things out, the law’s got no issue with Waylay staying with you. If things work out, you can even make it permanent.”
“Okay.” I nervously wiped my hands on the back of my shorts. “What things are we going to be figuring out?” I asked.
“Mainly what your sister is up to and what that means for guardianship.”
“I’m in big trouble. I need money, Naomi.”
I bit my lip. “She called me last night. Said she needed help and wanted me to bring cash. Do you think she’s in actual danger?”
“How about this? You focus on Waylay and let me worry about your sister,” Nash advised.
I appreciated the theory, but in my experience the only way to make sure a mess was cleaned to my satisfaction was to do the cleaning myself.
“Did you bring cash?” Knox asked, his eyes on me.
I looked down at my feet, feeling stupid and embarrassed. I knew better. “I did.”
“She get it?”
I focused on Nash’s fac
e since it was friendlier. “I thought I was being smart. I had half of it in the car and left the other half in my suitcase.”
Nash looked sympathetic. Knox, on the other hand, grumbled something under his breath.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back in there and introduce myself properly to my niece,” I said. “Please keep me posted.”
“You’re not staying here.”
This proclamation came from Knox.
I threw my hands up. “If my presence bothers you that much, why don’t you take an extended vacation?”
If looks could boil blood, mine would have turned to magma.
“You’re not staying here,” he repeated. This time he pointed to the flimsy door with the busted lock.
Oh. That.
“I’m sure I can come up with a solution,” I said brightly. “Chief—”
“Call me Nash,” he insisted again.
Knox looked like he wanted to shove his brother’s head through the already damaged door.
“Nash,” I said, turning up the charm. “Do you know where Waylay and I could stay for a few nights?”
Knox pulled out his phone and glowered at the screen as his thumbs moved aggressively over it.
“I could give you two a ride to Tina’s place. It’s not exactly homey, but she’s a lot less likely to break in and bust up her own stuff,” he offered.
Knox stowed his phone in his pocket. His gaze fastened on me, and there was something smug about his expression that made me irrationally irritated.
“That is so nice of you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help,” I told Nash. “I’m sure Knox has much better things to do than spend any more time in my vicinity.”
“My pleasure,” Nash insisted.
“I’ll just pack up what’s left of my things and tell Waylay where we’re going,” I decided and started back to the room.
My relief at finally being free of the bad-tempered, tattooed Knox was interrupted by a thunderous rumble.
A motorcycle with a man the size of a bear prior to hibernation rocketed down the street at a speed that was definitely not the legal speed limit.
“God damn that Harvey,” Nash muttered.
“Guess you better go get ’em,” Knox said, still looking smug.
Nash jabbed a finger in his brother’s direction. “You and me are gonna talk later,” he promised, looking none too happy.
“Better hurry and uphold that law,” Knox said.
Nash turned back to me. “Naomi, sorry to leave you in a lurch. I’ll be in touch.”
Knox wiggled his fingers antagonistically as his brother hustled back to his SUV and took up pursuit with lights flashing.
Once again, I was left alone with Knox. “You didn’t have something to do with my nice, polite ride disappearing, did you?”
“Now why would I do that?”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t to spend more quality time with me.”
“Come on, Daisy,” he said. “Let’s pack your shit. I’ll take you and Way to Tina’s.”
“I’d prefer if you kept your hands off my shit,” I said haughtily. The effect was ruined by my unladylike yawn. I was running on fumes and only hoped I could hold on long enough to get away from the Viking before I crashed.
FIVE
A VAT OF LIGHTER FLUID AND A NAP
Naomi
Hillside Acres looked more like a festive campground than a trailer park.
Kids played on a small, well-kept playground on a patch of grass that hadn’t quite submitted to the long Virginia summer. The mobile homes had picket fences and vegetable gardens. Creative color schemes and cozy patios added to the curb appeal.
And then there was Tina’s place.
It was a single-wide trailer in the back corner of the park. The beige box sloped hard to the right looking like it was missing part of its foundation on that end. Weeds that had fought their way through the gravel hit me at the knee.
The trailer across the road had a cute screened-in porch with string lights and hanging plants. Tina’s had makeshift cinder block steps leading to a rusty front door that hung slightly ajar.
Knox was glaring again. But for once, it wasn’t at me. It was at the notice posted on the door.
EVICTION.
“Stay here,” he ordered without looking at me or Waylay.
I was too tired to be annoyed as he Macho Man-stepped inside.
Waylay rolled her eyes. “She’s long gone. She busted in here before the motel.”
On reflex, I reached for her and put my hands on her shoulders. She jumped back, looking at me like I’d just tried to give her a wedgie.
Note to self: Don’t rush the physical affection.
“Uh, where have you two been staying?”
Waylay shrugged. “I stayed at my friend’s house the last two nights. Her parents don’t mind an extra kid for dinner. Dunno where she stayed.”
The only time “responsible” could be applied to Tina was when she was impersonating me over the years. Even still, I found myself horrified at my sister’s approach to parenting.
“It’s clear,” Knox called from inside.
“Told ya.” Waylay bounded up the steps, and I followed.
The trailer was worse on the inside than it was outside.
The carpet had worn through in front of the door, leaving long, gnarled strings that stretched out in all directions. A recliner faced a cheap wooden console with the dusty outline of a TV stand. A small, pink beanbag sat directly in front of it.
“She took the TV. But I grabbed the remote while she wasn’t looking,” Waylay said proudly.
“Nice job, kid,” Knox said, giving her hair a ruffle.
Swallowing hard, I left them in the living room and poked my head into the dingy kitchen.
The contents of the cabinets had been emptied into an overflowing garbage can in the middle of the green linoleum. Boxes of cereal, cans of soup, long since defrosted pizza snacks. There wasn’t a vegetable in sight.
There was a bedroom on each end. The one with the double bed had an ashtray on either side. Instead of curtains, thin bedsheets were tacked directly to the wall to block out the sun. The closet and dresser were mostly empty. Everything had either ended up on the floor or been hauled out the door. On instinct, I peeked under the bed and found two empty bourbon bottles.
Some things never changed.
“She’s coming back, you know,” Waylay said, poking her head inside.
“I know,” I agreed. What the girl didn’t know was that sometimes it was years between visits.
“My room’s on the other end if you wanna see it,” she said.
“I’d like that if you don’t mind.”
I closed the door on Tina’s depressing bedroom and followed my niece through the living room. Exhaustion and overwhelm made my eyeballs feel hot and dry. “Where’s Knox?” I asked.
“Talkin’ to Mr. Gibbons outside. He’s the landlord. Mom owes a shit-ton of back rent,” she said, leading the way to the flimsy fake wood door off the living room. A hand-lettered sign said “KEEP OUT” in glitter and four shades of pink marker.
I decided to save the lecture on swearing for later when I wasn’t mostly asleep on my feet.
Waylay’s room was small but tidy. There was a twin bed under a pretty pink quilt. A sagging bookshelf held a few books but was mostly dedicated to hair accessories organized in colorful bins.
Was it possible Waylay Witt was a girlie girl?
She flopped down on her bed. “So? What are we doing?”
“Well,” I said brightly. “I like your room. As for the rest of the place, I think we can make it work. A little scrubbing, some organization…” A vat of lighter fluid and a box of matches.
Knox prowled into the room like a pissed-off lion at the zoo. He took up too much space and most of the oxygen. “Get your shit, Way.”
“Uh. All of it?” she asked.
His nod was brisk. “All of it. Naomi.”
&n
bsp; He turned and marched out of the room. I could feel the trailer shudder under his feet.
“Think that means you’re supposed to follow him,” Waylay said.
“Right. Okay. Just hang tight. I’ll be back in a second.”
I found him outside, hands on hips and staring at the gravel.
“Is there a problem?”
“You two aren’t fucking staying here.”
Suddenly too tired to function, I collapsed against the trailer’s aluminum siding. “Look, Knox. My bones are tired. I’ve been up for a million hours straight. I’m in a strange place in a stranger situation. And there’s a little girl in there who needs someone. Unfortunately for her, that someone is me. You made up for the asshole routine with the chauffeur routine. You can just stop with the macho inconvenienced thing. I didn’t ask you for help. So you’re free to go. I need to start cleaning this mess up.”
Literally and figuratively.
“About done?” he asked.
I was too tired to be infuriated. “Yeah. About.”
“Good. Then get your ass in the truck. You’re not staying here.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“You two aren’t staying in a motel with cardboard doors or a health violation of a trailer that’s been broken into. Besides…” He paused his tirade to rip the eviction notice off the door. “This place ain’t Tina’s anymore. Legally you can’t crash here. Morally I can’t let you try. Got it?”
It was the longest speech he’d made in my presence, and I honestly didn’t have the energy for a reply.
But he wasn’t looking for one.
“So you’re going to get your ass in the truck.”
“And then what, Knox?” I pushed away from the trailer and threw my hands up. “What’s next? Do you know? Because I haven’t got a clue, and that scares the hell out of me.”
“I know a place you can stay. Safer than the motel. Cleaner than this fuckin’ mess.”
“Knox, I’ve got no wallet. No checkbook. No phone or laptop. As of yesterday, I’ve got no job to go back to. How am I supposed to pay for…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. Exhaustion and despair overwhelmed me.