Page 39 of Advice from a Sunflower

Something ugly and vile.

“Well, I figured you might know. Cathy mentioned that she saw you two together the other night for dinner. Said it looked to be intense.”

Her eyes drop down to her manicured fingernails passively, thin eyebrows practically raised into her scalp. I know this look. It's the accusatory one she always wore just before insisting I’d done something wrong, even if it wasn’t the truth.

Fucking small towns. I can’t even get dinner two towns over without someone’s eyes on me, watching my every move.

“We had dinner,” I confirm, keeping my tone tight, so she knows there was no room for follow-up questions.

She ignores it and straightens her shoulders, taking in a deep breath before spewing her fire like a vicious dragon. “I’d watch out for that girl if I were you. She’s been gone a long time and she certainly isn’t the same person we once knew. I’m sure there’s bigger and better things out there for her now. Things you probably can’t compete with, you know? You should stick with your own kind.”

My own kind. I’m sure if I asked, she’d happily explain that women like her were closer to my kind than Mouse would ever be, as if one of us was below the other. I could never figure out which she believed that to be, but I also never cared enough to ask.

Her eyebrows stay pointed upwards in mock concern, as if she's truly worried about me. As if she doesn’t just want to keep me away from the only person who has ever understood and accepted me for exactly who I am so that we can keep up this broken facade we have going.

She used to deliver the same speeches to me in high school, before Mouse left. She’d pair it with a less convincing frown—one she hadn’t quite perfected yet—and it would be just enough to keep me away and tightly wrapped in her grip.

Until the night Mouse gave me everything I needed.

I was quick to throw Emma to the side the moment I got a taste of what I’d been craving since before I even knew what it meant. It wasn’t that I never found Emma attractive, it was just that she couldn’t ever compare to the rarity that was Lyla Scott. She’d fought me, of course. We separated for the entire summer after graduation until I realized Mouse was never coming back and Emma managed to wear me down enough to pull me back into her grip.

Once again, I don’t dignify her condescending words with a response. Instead, I squeeze past her in the aisle and start toward the register, hopeful that she isn’t following right behind me. The last thing we need is another scene in a public place. We’d perfected those in our short-lived marriage.

Luckily, someone snags her attention from the opposite direction and I'm able to slip out undetected. Then, I pull onto my street and see the familiar high-end black sedan still parked against the curb, and my blood pressure skyrockets.

“Uncle Eli!” Gabby shouts from the front porch, her little legs shooting up to carry her over to me. I catch her just in time for her to slam right into my legs, and she lifts her hands to be picked up.

“Aunt Lyla got us a sandbox,” she exclaims, pointing a chunky finger toward the backyard.

“She did?” I ask, carefully scanning the area for any trace of the last woman I want to see right now—even beating out my ex-wife.

Gabby nods excitedly just as a loud bang comes from behind the house. “She’s having a hard time.” Her face falls with innocent worry.

Gabby’s always been more expressive and compassionate than her sister or mother, almost a carbon copy of Mouse when she was that age.

“Yeah? Maybe you should go help her, then.”

"Eli! Perfect timing. Can you spare a few minutes?" Marnie appears at the gate, a calculating smirk ghosting her lips.

The girls look up at me, awaiting a response, but I'm hesitating. I send a scowl Marnie's way and sigh in defeat, squeezing Gabby's tiny hand when she slips it into my palm.

"We can't get this thing to fit together right," Marnie explains casually, cutting off Mouse's hissed whispers as I round the corner.

"We have it covered," Mouse assures, struggling to fit two pieces of wood to each other.

"No, we don't, and if we want them to play in it within the next century, we need some help." Marnie ignores the sneer from her sister, turning toward the girls.

"Looks like it's lunch time. Mouse, you and Eli have this handled right?"

Mouse opens her mouth in disbelief, watching helplessly as Marnie corrals the girls through the back door, a sly grin teasing us just before she disappears behind the glass.

Once we're alone, we sit in heavy silence while she fights the drill.

"Seriously, I've got this. You can leave."

Her stubborn lips purse outward, eyes cast down, likely wishing my entire existence away. Her finger slips on the trigger of the drill, startling her as it digs a hole right into the wood, narrowly missing her thigh. I quickly jump into action, snatching the tool from her hands before it causes any more damage and set it down onto the ground.

"Clearly, you've got everything under control," I mumble under my breath. Her scowl tells me she heard it.

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