Page 94 of Forsaken Oath

God, I could kiss him for the offer.

The pounding on the door grows more insistent, my mother’s shrill, slurring voice echoing through the house. “Eloise, open this door right now or so help me god!”

Vivie shrinks back against the counter, her eyes wide and scared. And I hate my mother all over again for putting that fear in her eyes.

I force a smile and cross the room to my sister. I smooth her wild hair back off her face. “Don’t worry about it, Vivie. Beau’s going to help you rank the donuts while I go take care of that . . . neighbor, okay?”

Vivie nods, but I can see the uncertainty lingering in her eyes. I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile before turning to Beau. “I’ll be right back,” I murmur, my voice tight.

Beau searches my face, his jaw clenched with tension. After a beat, he nods, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. The tender gesture threatens to undo me completely.

“I’m right here when you need me, Peach,” he says softly, his voice firm with conviction.

Squaring my shoulders, I march out of the kitchen toward the front door, anger and dread swirling like a storm in my gut. I hesitate for just a second before yanking the door open.

Darla stands on the porch, her fist raised mid-pound. She blinks at me, surprise flickering across her face before it twists into a sneer. Her bleached blonde hair is a tangled mess, darkroots visible at the scalp. Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed with smudged black eyeliner. She reeks of cigarettes and stale booze.

“Where’s my fucking money, Eloise?”

40

BEAU

“Where’s my fucking money, Eloise?”

The words slice through the quiet kitchen, sharp and venomous. My whole body tenses, my hand tightening around the chipped Mickey Mouse mug as I take in the change in the air. Vivie freezes, her small shoulders hunching slightly as if the voice outside has a weight of its own.

But it’s not just fear I see in her—it’s familiarity.

The front door closes with a soft snick, and silence sits heavy around us.

I glance down at Peach’s little sister, her fingers hovering over the open donut box like she can’t decide which one to grab. But her hesitation isn’t about the donuts anymore; it’s about that voice.

“You okay, kid?” I ask, keeping my tone light, steady, though my eyes flick toward the hall where Eloise disappeared.

Vivie’s hand drops to her side, and she nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But her voice is tight, and her gaze is fixed on the doorway, like she’s waiting for something—or someone—to burst through it.

My gut twists.

I eye her, an idea blossoming. “How old are you, anyway?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m thirteen.”

“Perfect.” I set the mug down and nudge the box of donuts closer to her. “How about we do some taste testing? Cut little pieces off each one, and we’ll rank them. You can be my donut consultant.”

Her eyes dart to mine, uncertain, before she nods again, this time slower. “Alright.”

I grab a knife from the counter and hand it to her, keeping my tone breezy. “Start with the cruller. It’s a classic.”

Vivie takes the knife and hesitates for a moment before turning her focus to the donuts. I wait until her attention is on the sugary pile before moving toward the front of the house.

The voice outside is quieter now, but no less sharp. I peer through the thin curtain in the window next to the front door. My girl looks like a goddamn sentinel on the front lawn, back straight and standing tall. Her body is a line of tension as she speaks to the woman outside.

“It’s not enough, Eloise,” the woman slurs, her voice rising in pitch. “You fuckin’ owe me more than this. Ineedmore. Jerry’s gonna kick me out if I can’t pay again.”

Peach’s voice is firm but strained when she responds. “I don’t give a fuck about Jerry—or you. I told you last time, stop comin’ here, Darla.”

“I’m your goddamn mother. Show me a little respect,” the woman, Darla, yells. She puts her whole body into it, leaning forward and pitching to the right.

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