Page 11 of His Big Bad Stick

“Ew,” I whisper.

She laughs. “I guess that’s true, considering he’s your new stepfather.”

I cringe at that word. Stepfather.

Do you know how many of those I’ve had in my life so far?

You know how some women dye their hair so much they forget what their natural color is?

That’s my mother with last names.

Honestly, I’m not even sure why my last name is Mallory.

Is that my mother’s maiden name? My birth father’s name? Then again, I don’t think my mother even knows who my birth father is.

As a kid she used to tell me a stork brought me to her.

Weird.

Mom hurries out of the car, rushes up the steps and jumps into Jack’s arms.

He catches her and spins her around.

When she’s back on her feet, he touches her face.

They definitely have a connection.

I hate that feeling of hope that hits you when you’re excited. In my experience, it’s all bullshit.

Hope lasts about as long as a rainbow does. And it’s just as rare.

Mom looks at me and waves for me to get out of the car.

I do so, slinging my bag over my right shoulder.

I approach with a smile. This all feels so rehearsed. I mean, I have done it a time or two before.

“There she is,” Jack says to me. “Even more pretty in person.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Caspian.”

“Please, call me Jack,” he says. “Mr. Caspian is if you’re in my office about to get fired!”

Mom cackles so hard she sounds like a crow flying overhead.

Jack offers his right hand.

I shake it.

“I guess we should handle the tour,” Jack says. “You’re going to love this place, Gabrielle.”

“Abrielle,” I say. “No… G…”

“You know, I was wondering about that,” Jack says. “I swore that’s how I heard it. And here I am, assuming. Forgive me, Abrielle.”

“She’s used to it,” Mom says.

“There are twelve bedrooms in the house,” Jack says. “Eight are up for grabs. First floor. Second floor. Even on the third floor. You pick the room, Abrielle.”

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