Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (110 page)

“I don’t need to be wowed,” I shook my head.

“Yes,” he cupped my cheek, “you do.” He slowly backed away from me, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Friday.” He stated. “Don’t even think of backing out on me. I’ll hunt you down if you do,” he winked, smiling in jest.

“I don’t doubt your finder skills,” I called after him as I opened my car door. I slid inside and gripped the wheel in my hands. I didn’t pull away. I sat there thinking. There was a… giddiness fluttering through my body. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt since… well, since the night Trent and I were together in the tent.

Snow flurries began to fall on the windshield and I knew I couldn’t stay here any longer. I had to get back home… back to reality.

“Row! Can I have that?” Tristan pointed enthusiastically at a bar of Hershey’s chocolate as we stood in the checkout line at the grocery store. Since I’d forgotten about Thanksgiving, I hadn’t picked up anything to make a meal while I was here with Trent. Shopping with Ivy and Tristan was exhausting. They wanted everything.

“Tristan, you know what the answer is going to be, so why do you keep asking?”

The little boy frowned, lowering his head.

I hated always being ‘the bad guy’ and saying no, but I knew we couldn’t afford special treats. Heck, I would’ve loved some Rice Krispie Treats, but that was a luxury, and we couldn’t have those. Looking down at Tristan’s sad face, as he said nothing, threatened to crack my resolve, but I stood strong. I needed to save as much money as I could, because hopefully in a year, I could fight for custody of the kids. I needed to show the court that I was responsible.

We checked out and headed to the car. The chilly air seeped through my thin coat. If this weather kept up we were going to have an unusually harsh winter.

“Do we
have
to go home?” Ivy whined from the back of the car.

I frowned. Boy, did I know the feeling of not wanting to be at home. No matter how hard I tried to make it seem like a comforting place, the kids still didn’t want to be there. When my mom and step-dad were home, you couldn’t help but feel an icy chill like they wanted you out of the way.

“Uh…” I pondered. It was cold so I couldn’t take them to the playground and there wasn’t much else to do. “Do you want to go to the library and pick out some new books? It’ll be warm and Mary should be there.”

“Yes!” Ivy smiled widely in excitement. “Will she have cookies?”

Mary always made the best cookies and often brought them into work so we could all have some.

“Cookies!” Tristan exclaimed, hopping up and down in his car seat. “I want cookies!”

“Don’t get too excited guys,” I warned, “she might not have any.”

“I hope she does,” Ivy licked her lips, “I
love
cookies.”

“Me too!” Tristan piped in.

I shook my head and pulled out into traffic, heading downtown to the library. I wasn’t worried about the groceries since I didn’t have anything that would melt… not that it would with how cold it was.

I parked and helped Tristan out of his seat. Ivy bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. As hyper as she was today, I wasn’t sure she needed any cookies.

“We have to hold hands when we cross the street,” I warned them both. Tristan was already at the age where he didn’t want to hold my hand, but I wasn’t about to let them go running out into the road.

We crossed the street and bound up the steps.

Inside, Tristan looked around in awe. “Are we in a m-m-muzum?”

I laughed. “I think you mean a museum,” I ruffled his sandy hair, “and no, this is the library.”

“Oh. I knew that,” he smiled up at me. “I forgot.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been here,” I bent down, helping him out of his bulky coat—the coat Trent had picked out. I draped the coat over my arm and stood up straight. “Come on, let’s go find Mary and then we’ll go to the kids section.”

“Cookies?” Tristan brightened, his little hand finding mine.

“Maybe,” I shrugged.

Ivy was already at the information desk, hounding Mary. “Ivy,” I scolded, “manners.”

“Sorry, Ms. Mary,” she stepped back from the counter, “but do you have any cookies? I’d really like one.” I eyed her and she added, “Please.”

Mary leaned on the counter, pretending to think. “I might have some cookies I can spare.” She bent down behind the counter and rummaged around. “Aha!” She placed a large metal tin on the counter. “Here’s the cookies, they’re peanut butter chip.”

“I love peanut butter!” Tristan exclaimed.

“Shh,” I hushed him. “We’re in a library which means you have to be really quiet,” I whispered.

“Oops.” Tristan looked around. “Sowwy.”

“It’s, sorry,” I corrected. “Use your R’s.”

“Sorry?” He tilted his head. “Did I say it right?”

“Yep, you’ve got it right.”

“Does that mean I can have a cookie now?” He questioned.

“Yeah, you can have a cookie,” I smiled at him.

“Yay!” He said in a hushed whisper, waving his arms in excitement.

“Thank you,” I told Mary.

“You’re welcome,” she placed the lid back on the tin once each kid had two cookies in their hands. Whispering, she said, “Grab this on your way out. I made way too many and don’t need them.”

“I can’t take your cookies,” I shook my head.

“Thanksgiving is tomorrow, sweetie, my house is going to be full of sweets. I don’t need them.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You know you’re welcome to bring the kids and come to my house for Thanksgiving,” she offered. Mary was one of the nicest people I’d ever met and she always wanted to help.

“Thanks for the offer, Mary, but I’m going to make dinner for them.”

She smiled, glancing over at the kids who were sitting at one of the tables munching on their cookies. “What you do for them… it’s remarkable, Rowan.”

“Hardly,” I shrugged, brushing off her comment.

“No, really it is,” she continued. “Most people your age… they would’ve abandoned them, saying they have parents to look after them, but not you. You stayed.”

“I have my reasons,” I murmured, staring off into space.

“Regardless,” she waved her hand in dismissal of my statement, “I’m proud of you.”

I looked up at her in surprise. Proud of me? No one had ever told me they were proud of me before. I’d always been told I was worthless, useless, and a pain in the ass. I wasn’t called nice things, and unfortunately I was used to it. Kindness wasn’t something I experienced often, and when I did I clung to it with strong fingers. I let her words warm me all over. I didn’t know it could feel so good to have someone tell you they were proud of you. It seemed like such a simple thing to say, but it could have such a profound effect.

“I-I… thank you,” I finally said.

“For what?” She tilted her head.

“Nothing,” I muttered. I couldn’t explain to Mary how much her words had meant to me.

I sat down at the table with Ivy and Tristan as they finished their cookies. I cleaned up their crumbs and led them to the kids’ section.

“There’s so many books, Row,” Tristan looked around in awe.

“There
are
so many books,” I corrected.

“How do you expect me to choose just one?” He frowned. “I want all of them,” he put his hands on his small hips.

“Well,” I bent down, keeping an eye on Ivy, “you pick one now, we read it, and then we bring it back and you get to choose another.”

His lower lip jutted out. “Can I get two? Please?”

“Yes, you can get two.” It had been relatively easy to deny him a chocolate bar, but a book? No way was I telling the kid he couldn’t have two books.

“Yay! I love you, Row,” he wrapped his tiny arms around my neck.

I squeezed him tight, inhaling the scent of his baby shampoo. I wished he could stay this little forever—naïve of all the bad in the world.

“You’re the bestest big sister,” he kissed my cheek.

“Let’s get your books picked out. The library is closing early,” I told him, pulling his shirt down to cover his stomach.

I let the kids each pick two books and play in the kids’ area for a little while. I sat against a shelf with my legs brought up. I draped my arms over my knees. I watched them play and talk about their books, my heart swelling with pride. I didn’t understand how someone like my mother could birth a child and not care about them. I knew there were plenty of other parents exactly like my mom, and my heart broke for those children. A child deserves to be loved, and without it, they’ll shrivel into nothing—I think that’s what happened to me. Without the love of my mom or any parental figure, I’d missed out on some fundamental development. I was closed off and emotionless. I knew it, and yet I could do nothing to stop it. Maybe one day I could learn how to feel, but I didn’t see it happening any time soon.

I watched the clock, giving Tristan and Ivy a five-minute warning that we needed to leave. Neither was ready to go back home. Like me, they found solace in the peaceful library.

“Alright, guys,” I stood, dusting lint off my jeans, “we have to go.”

Neither gave much protest, but they did frown, their heads slightly bowed.

I let them hand their books to Mary for her to scan them. She handed them back and thrust the tin of cookies at me, lest I forget it. “Have a good Thanksgiving,” she smiled pleasantly, “and the offer’s still open if you want to come to my house.”

“Thank you,” I told her as I took Tristan’s hand. “We’ll be fine though.”

We headed straight home and I cringed when I saw my step-dad’s truck sitting in the driveway. The last thing I needed was to deal with him.

The kids helped me carry the groceries inside. When I passed Jim his hand shot out grazing the side of my butt. I cringed, bile rising in my throat. I wanted him gone from my life—him and my mom. I wanted to erase all the bad.

“You been to the grocery store?” He asked, spitting into a can and scratching his round beer belly.

I bit my tongue to keep from correcting his grammar. “Obviously,” I said instead, my tone short and clipped.

He tilted his head, his hairy brows furrowing together. “Don’t sass me,” he warned. “You know how I feel about that,” he said in his thick southern drawl. I think Jim was from Alabama—I didn’t really know, and frankly didn’t care.

I said nothing, heading into the kitchen and sitting the bags on the counter.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten
.

I took deep breaths in and out, trying to calm myself. I felt like I was suffocating under the stress of being stuck in this house. I wanted out. I wanted to break down the walls and run away, never to return. It wasn’t that easy though, nothing ever was. I wouldn’t stop trying to get away. My eyes landed on Tristan and Ivy. They deserved more than this shitty house and life. They deserved to have toys like other kids, and chocolate bars, but most importantly they deserved a future my mom could never give them. I didn’t want them to have to work as hard as I did. I wanted them to have the chance to be kids and normal teenagers.

“Row?” I shook my head clear of my thoughts and looked down to see Tristan tugging on my sweater.

“What?” I asked.

“You did it again,” he whispered, like he was letting me in on a secret.

“Did what?” I asked puzzled.

“You left me…” He shrugged his small shoulders. “Sometimes you leave, and I’m scared you’re not coming back.”

“But I didn’t leave,” I lowered, wrapping my arms around him, “I would never leave you, Tristan.”

“He’s talking about when you zone out,” Ivy piped in, removing a box of stuffing from one of the plastic bags.

“You do it a lot,” Tristan nodded. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was doing it,” I took his small face between my hands, looking into his blue eyes. “I’ll try not to do it again,” I assured him with a light kiss to the end of his nose.

“Stop babying the boy,” Jim said loudly as he entered the kitchen. “If you want him to grow up to be a man you’ve got to treat him like one.” He reached into the refrigerator for a beer. He took several long gulps and let out an obnoxious burp.

“I don’t need your advice,” I snapped. “I certainly don’t want him turning out like you.”

Jim’s eyes flashed with anger. “I might not be the boy’s father, but treatin’ him like a fucking fairy princess isn’t helpin’ him.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from saying anything else. I knew if I ran my mouth it would only serve to get me in trouble later.

With his beer in hand, Jim headed back to the living room and to his beloved recliner. My mom was already passed out on the couch. One of these days she wasn’t going to wake up—I was sure of it, and I didn’t care. I don’t know what that said about me.

With Ivy’s help I got all the groceries put away.

“Can I help you make dinner tomorrow?” She asked, bashfully looking at the ground.

“Of course,” I said brightly, “I’d love your help.”

“Can I help too?” Tristan piped in.

“Yep,” I lightly poked his tummy, making him giggle. “I like it when you guys help me. You’re the best helpers I know.”

“We are?” Tristan asked with bright round eyes.