Page 28 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“You’re on. Plus, I want that silk robe you bought when you knew I wanted it.”

“The one from the garage sale last summer?”

“Oh, don’t play coy,” I shot back. “You know exactly which one.”

“Fine,” she said, tugging me along. “But if he calls, I get your vintage lace-up Docs.”

“That’s not an even bet!”

Mom hummed as we made our way through the house. “Okay, then the vintage Pendleton flannel. The blue one.”

“Fine.”

“Easiest thrift I’ve ever had,” she joked. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. There’s nothing in here I need. I want to search for those jadeite dishes. I got the cutest little salt-and-pepper shakers a couple weeks ago, and I really want a butter dish.”

“Are you going to do other dishes too?” I asked as I followed along. I wasn’t really seeing anything that was my style. “Like, to eat off of?”

“No, I’m keeping the cheap white ones,” Mom replied. “Easy to replace when someone breaks it.”

“If you wait until the grandkids are grown, you’ll never have cool dishes,” I pointed out.

“Who said it’s the grandkids? Your brothers break my shit, and they’reallgrown.” She shrugged. “It’s not worth getting a set of dishes I’m too afraid to use.”

“Fair enough.” I helped her start going through the kitchen cabinets. “But you should get a cake stand and a pitcher, at least. So, it looks like a theme, not just random green pieces.”

“Ooh, a cake stand would be gorgeous in the corner of the counter.”

“Maybe even a big bowl to put fruit in,” I added.

“I like the way you think,” she said gleefully, her hand shooting out to grip my forearm. “I see a hutch in the dining room. This is not a drill.”

I chuckled as she rushed to the other room, following along a little more slowly.

I kept my phone close and checked it at least once an hour for the rest of the day. We went from sale to sale, following any little neon handwritten signs we found. There was a surprising amount considering the weather grew more and more miserable as the day went on. The girls were good at keeping me distracted, and Mom was even better—she’d been doing it since I was born. I barely had time to obsess over the fact that Cian still hadn’t reached out. It was only when we were in the car and they were discussing what they’d found that I had a few moments to wonder if I’d ruined things completely. A part of me had assumed that he would reach out, even if it was just to say that we were fine.

My mom talked us into having dinner with her and my dad, so we went there after we’d exhausted our shopping options and it started growing dark outside. Dad was already home, screwing around in the garage when we got there.

The moment I saw him, my stomach twisted with nerves. I’d seen my dad since he laid into me at the club, but we hadn’t really spent any time together. Usually, my brothers and their families were around as a buffer.

“Go say hello,” my mom ordered as Frankie parked. “Break the ice.”

“Stop reading my mind,” I grumbled.

“Why do you think I invited you over for dinner?” she scoffed, climbing out of her seat. “You walked right into it.”

Lou and Frankie laughed as I cursed.

I made my way slowly over to the garage as the rest of them abandoned me and headed inside.

“Hey Dad,” I called as I got closer.

“Oh, you’re talkin’ to me?” he called back, tossing something onto his workbench.

“I wasn’t evernottalking to you,” I hedged.

“Bullshit.”

“Well, youwerean ass.”

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