Page 129 of Broken Skulls

My phone rings. “It’s Danielle,” I tell them. I hand Brody the finished bouquet, and he gives me a thumbs up as I answer her call and back out of the room.

“Hey, girl,” I say in greeting, plopping down on the couch. Our calls usually last hours, so I settle in, wrapping myself in the blanket I made Jacob.

A man on the other end laughs.

Great, it’s Anthony. Why is he calling me?

“Oh, it’s you,” I say, throwing the blanket off me.

“It’s me,” he says, unfazed by my unenthusiasm. Anthony and I have always had a love-hate relationship.

“Is everything okay with Danielle?” I ask, hoping my friend is alright.

“She’s good. She’s up in Portland doing an art show.”

I play with the fringe on the blanket. “Oh yeah, she mentioned she had a big show coming up.”

“How’s married life?”

Something isn’t right. “Why are you calling? I know you’re not interested in how my marriage is going.”

He chuckles. “Of course I am. You’re my wife’s friend. Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

“What’s. Wrong?” I stress each word.

He laughs harder. “Ah, there’s the old Lizzie.”

“Whatever. If you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to hang up. No offense, but I have shit to do.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase. I, well, I should say Danielle … received a call.”

“Still screening her calls, I see.”

“That’s never going to change.”

I roll my eyes. “Continue.”

“It was from a young woman who is interested in meeting Danielle.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“She claims Mr. Baxter is her father.”

My heart instantly takes a nosedive right into the pit of my stomach, and the phone falls from my hand.

Jacob walks in and rushes over to me. “What’s wrong? You’re so pale.”

All I can do is stare at him as he places his hand over my forehead, checking my temperature. Eventually, he notices thephone on the floor. He picks it up and brings it to his ear. “Hello?”

His brows slowly pull together, his gaze bouncing over my face as he listens to Anthony.

This can’t be happening. Maybe it’s not her. Maybe Mr. Baxter had another child, but I know in my heart that’s not true.

“Why does she want to talk to Danielle?” Jacob asks him. He runs his hand through his hair. “That makes sense. Danielle was his student, and she’s an artist. I can see how she concluded she might be her mother.”

I double over and hug my stomach. I think I’m going to be sick. He sits down beside me, rubbing circles over my back.

He sighs loudly. “Yeah. I also see why you’ve come to your conclusion.”

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