Page 100 of Home to the Hollow

“Don’t worry, E. I’ve got this. Take your girl outside, and I’ll bring the pies when they’re done,” he booms, his enormous frame menacing as his eyes rake over the woman he’s divorcing.

Teddy nods at him, a look passing between them I don’t quite understand. “Thanks, big guy.” He takes my hand, prying my fist open to tug me out the door. When we cross the threshold and the door closes, he looks at me in concern. “Don’t let her get to you, Tilly. Some people never grow up.”

“I am not in the mood for stupid bitches, Teddy!” I shout. My entire body is shaking with rage, and nothing Isis is doing is helping. I don’t feel like I’m going to black out, but the heat is spreading from head to toe. It’s like the anger is raising my body temp, and I have no idea why.

“Well, isn’t this quaint?”

A delicate sniff draws my attention, and I whirl around, ready to blast the next stuck up tramp who wants to come at me. My jaw drops when I see the perfectly coiffed, elegantly dressed maven of Whistler’s Hollow society herself staring at me like I’m a dog that shit on the Berber. My eyes close and frustration washes over me like rainfall as I realize what’s just happened. I will not be able to walk this back without a lot of groveling, and I don’t know if I can get there at the moment.

Margaret Emily Boone witnessed me losing my shit on the sidewalk in front ofDerby Pies, and I’ve committed a cardinal sin in her eyes. Edgar’s mom was bound to have issues with me, our situation, and my past, but now I’ve shown her I’m unsuitable, regardless.

Just. Fucking. Great. This is the day that keeps on giving, I swear to Mars.

“Hello, Mother. What are you doing downtown at this time of night? Shouldn’t you be at the club holding court with an Old Fashioned by now?” Teddy’s voice is calm, but I canfeelthe apprehension vibrating from him.

Her laugh is like glass breaking, though I’m sure she believes it to be charming. The matriarch of the Boone family ignores her son’s question, turning on her heel to walk towards a SUV parked a little way down the street. Teddy follows her without a word, and I do the same, marveling at the level of power she holds that even my dick swinging boyfriend simply follows her without even being told to. She stops in front of—I shit you not—a raspberry colored Porsche SUV, clicks the remote in her hand and holds the small bag in her hand out. I blink, watching Teddy walk over, take it, and place it on the passenger side.

Holy shit, is this bitch serious?A Yorkie could have carried that tiny bookstore bag in its teeth; she didn’t need him to ‘load’ it in the car for her.

“Edgar, be a dear and run inside to get your food. I haven’t seen Jolene Whitley in a dog’s age. I’d like to talk to your friend.”

My eyes narrow and the heat that started filling my veins during the confrontation suddenly bubbles hotter. If this woman thinks I’m going to stand here and let her give me some speech about how I’m not good enough for her son’s pedigree, she has another thing coming. I said I wasn’t in the mood for Sherilynn and I’m even less inclined to listen to some old bat’s judgy horseshit.

“Mother…”

Margaret waves her hand to dismiss him, and he glares. Then turns to me with a questioning expression. I hold back the sigh threatening to escape and nod at him, knowing I’ll only make things worse if I don’t stand up for myself now. Her smile is almost feral, and the burning in my gut increases, spreading to my eyes as well.

This may not go well—the last time I felt like this, I had to be carried out by the boys. I wait for Teddy to step inside before I deign to face the Witch of Whistler’s Hollow with a bored look.

“Margaret, it’s nice to see you. I haven’t seen you since… the night of the Cotillion, I believe.” I don’t add she was part of the crowd of adults snickering in the background and I know it. She’s well aware of her behavior and I have no intention of rehashingthatnight with anyone.

“Oh, yes. Such an unfortunate incident. I remember your parents had to keep you home for the rest of the year. Children can be so cruel.”

Especially when they’re coached by adults, you bloody cunt muscle.

But I don’t say that. I simply force a smile to my lips and nod, ignoring the tightness of my skin and the urge to tear her to pieces on the spot. “Yes, they can. One would think their behavior wouldn’t reflect so poorly on their upbringing, but teenagers are so easily influenced by group dynamics and the urge to please authority figures.”

Her eyes widen and she gives me a look that would freeze the balls off a walrus. “Yes, well, at any age, it’s hard to keep your progeny from making mistakes by falling in with the wrong crowd.”

Oh, it’s on now, you plastic filled trophy wife.

“Indeed. Luckily, I’ve noticed some of the worst offenders have moved past their insecurities and ingrained biases to be more accepting and lovely to be around. Others…” I let the sentence trail for effect, enjoying the rage filling her eyes. “Let’s just say breeding can’t fix some defects.”

She’s about to retort when Teddy comes out with the stack of pizzas, and her expression changes to one of placid disdain. “Edgar Olivier Boone III, your father didn’t raise you to treat people to garbage for dinner. What are you thinking?”

He rolls his eyes. “Mother, we chose this meal together, and I’m sure all the residents of our house will be happy as pigs in shit when we bring it in.”

Margaret gives him a scathing once over before pulling open her car door with a vicious yank. “Fine. But don’t come whining to me when you’re too slow to coach the team or you stop getting invitations to the society events. I won’t intercede if you let yourself go to pot, son.”

I snort rudely, shaking my head. “Trust me, Margaret, Teddy is getting a full workout daily—sometimes even multiple times a day. His tight little buns aren’t in danger a whit.”

Edgar’s laugh is smothered in the boxes as he hides and his mother huffs before sliding into her car and slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. She makes a fast u-turn when she pulls out, not even waving goodbye before she burns rubber down the street like she’s been lit on fire.

“Hmmm. Guess Miss Raspberry Por-shay doesn’t like me coming from a secondhand store,” I quip, shrugging my shoulders. “Oopsie.”

Teddy groans at my terrible joke, clicking the lock on the Impala. “That was bad enough to earn you atleastthree swats, Tilly.”

I grin. Maybe it wasn’t such a waste of time after all. Wait till he hears the rest of what I said to his bitchy mother—that should get me strung up by the ceiling hooks for a bit.

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