Page 58 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

“I know I fucked up. Not much else to say. I already apologized to Evelyn.”

I wait.

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I owe you the apology, too. Was she okay after?”

“Yeah, I held her, reassured her that you’re fucked in the head and that this was more about you than her.”

He shrugs. “Sounds about right.”

“You need to figure this out, Lincoln. She could be the one?—”

“Don’t. You know I can’t do that anymore. There’s no such thing as ‘the one.’”

“Get over that. Her issues weren’t the same as your issues. That was a whole different thing, and you know it.”

Before Lincoln can do what I expect him to do, which is ignore me and put his attention back on the game because he’s so emotionally available, the doorbell rings.

He and I exchange a look. Neither of us ordered anything, we don’t have people coming over.

“Maybe it’s one of Evie’s friends,” I say, going to the door.

I open it to see a guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties. He has brown hair and I don’t notice much else because there’s a stack of folded cardboard leaning against one of his legs.

I wait for him to look at me and realize he has the wrong house, but he just stares stupidly past me and says, “Where’s Evelyn? Who are you?”

“Who are you?” I ask, conscious of Lincoln’s footsteps approaching behind me.

“I’m Troy. Evelyn’s moving back to her mom’s. I’m here to help her pack.”

“The fuck you are,” Lincoln says from just behind my shoulder.

Troy frowns and scratches his nose. “But, uh, Chloe and her mom said that Evelyn’s moving back. So, here I am to help.”

“You can help by relaying the message that Evelyn isn’t going anywhere,” Lincoln says. “She already said so, from what I understand.”

“Francesca and Chloe said Evelyn would change her mind.” Troy gulps.

They were wrong, because Evelyn is currently out celebrating the fact that she’s not moving back to Francesca’s place.

“Is one of you her dad?” Troy asks. “I thought he was out of town.”

“Nope.” Lincoln doesn’t volunteer any further information.

Troy stands on his tiptoes, trying to see past us. “Is Evelyn home?”

“Nope,” I say.

“What are you, her boyfriend or something? Why are you here if her dad’s gone?”

I don’t like the tone he uses when he’s talking about her, like he has some kind of ownership or claim.

“That’s none of your business,” I say. “Now run along. Pass on the message again that Evelyn isn’t moving out. Maybe it’ll sink in this time.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but Lincoln and I stand firm.

He scoffs. “Yeah, whatever.”

We watch as he fumbles with the flattened boxes and heads back to a sporty SUV.

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