Page 39 of Ten Hammers

She’s visibly confused, with a cute little eyebrow wrinkle. It was that way the last time she saw it, probably. That’s how her dad tended to keep it.

“Pops has been mowing it, trimming the hedges.”

“Your parents are… something else.” Her voice grows thick with unshed tears. “I should pay Popsy something, I should–”

She breaks off and her breath is ragged as she turns her face away from me. She tries to rip her fingers from mine, as well, but I tighten my fist just enough to let her know I want her hand to stay.

“I am going to fall apart in there,” she chokes out.

“Do you want me to stay on the porch? Give you some privacy?”

“No!” she cries. “No. I want you with me. And I think I need you to go first, too.”

“Of course.”

I lead her inside, the musty, stagnant air enveloping us instantly, and we cough together. The worn floorboards groan. Every surface is coated in a layer of fine, powdery dust and decay, and hints of long abandoned lives cling to every corner with the spider webs. Cracked windows allow shards of feeble moonlight to pierce the darkness, casting long, ghostly shapes across the floor. It’s fucking grim.

I glance at Winnie and my heart wrenches. Her eyes are once again hollow. In the dim light, shadows play tricks in the corners of my eyes, but the shadows in her eyes are very much real.

“Win,” I say softly.

Her gaze flies to mine, but I’m not sure she’s seeing me fully. A single tear runs down her cheek.

“He’s right, though,” she says, with a sad, bitter laugh. “How you look at me doesn’t matter, because the curb appeal doesn’t mean crap if the house is a teardown.”

She can hear him, her piece-of-shit deadbeat dad. I know she can. As though his raised voice and sharp words linger in the walls. Peeling out of the wallpaper. Tormenting her everywhere she looks.

“Winnie, no,” I start, pulling her close to me for a hug, but she shakes her head and pulls her hands from mine.

“None of you deserve this–”

“You’re right. Not a damn one of us does. You’re too good for each and every one of us.”

“Gav! That’s not what I mean and you know it. None of you deserve to have to put up with my baggage, or the emotional scars left behind by my father. You’ll never be able to heal them. They’re a fucking part of me.” She crosses her arms over her chest and turns away from me again but this time she walks too far away for me to reach for her hand to reel her back to me without chasing her.

“They were lies, Win,” I tell her, though I don’t really know the specifics. What I do know breaks my heart. I once heard Pops call Win’s father a verbally abusive bastard and Pops would not say that lightly. But all Winnie would ever say was that her dad yelled a lot. We made her swear he never touched her. Had he laid a hand on her, we would’ve–

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, and I stop to listen. “I hate feeling this way. But his lies became my truth. They’re not just shackles you all can help me break free from. I’ll take everything he ever said to me with me wherever I go.” Her voice rises. “They’re a part of me,” she finishes on a hollow sob, void of tears. “He’s dead and gone, and no matter what we do with this place, that is my inheritance. It’s pathetic. I know.”

“Win–”

“Please,” she whispers. “Please don’t try right now.”

She doesn’t turn back to me and I ache to pull her into my arms and take her to my old bedroom. Not even to my bed, necessarily, but to sit together in the same place where, as kids, we’d whispered and laughed together. Where we sat side by side, reading from her favorite of the books on my shelf.

My best friend, my Pooh Bear. I wish I could give Winnie all the comfort she deserves. But even if I could, she’s not in a place to accept it and that tears me up like nothing fucking else.

Chapter 14

Winnie

For ten years I vowed to never step foot inside Gram’s house again, and yet here I stand. Barely past the threshold and already I’m hearing my dad’s voice louder than ever. Taunting as I bring a Hammer into the house for the first time, another thing I vowed never, ever to do.

What do you think that boy really wants from you, girlie? We all know it ain’t true love and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be a salad! Ha! Ha!

I realized it on the drive back from Whispering Glen: my father made me feel like my appearance, my body and its inadequacies, was the only thing about me that meant anything. And in the process, he damaged what really mattered. My soul. My heart. My ability to believe, really believe, with 100% faith, that someone could love me. Because he and Gram, the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, couldn’t.

The Hammer brothers are attracted to me. Mind-blown, but so what? Watching the shows made me think they might all even have romantic feelings for me. Again, mind-blown, but so what? At the end of the day, when it comes to a life partner, a soul mate, a ‘til-death-do-us part, they all deserve someone who won’t forever question their hearts. Someone whose doubts in herself won’t leave her constantly wondering why, second guessing their words and actions.

---