Page 233 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“Or he’s just manipulative and evil, and you don’t see it, but I hope you’re right. For your sake.”
“I am.”
Shane nods, reluctantly. “Regardless, will you keep your distance? Given the rumors, I find you two hanging around together a little disrespectful.”
“He’s my brother, Shane. Nothing like what you’re thinking has ever happened.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean he never wanted it to. I don’t trust him,” says the man who just held knives to my face. He steps back up to me and asks for a kiss on his chocolate-covered lips.
I give him my cheek, and his stubble stabs me, reminding me again of those blades.
“You gonna be okay here?”
“I think so.”
“Okay. I finished off the skirting boards. You don’t have any money left over, right? We need more paint for upstairs.”
“I have another job this weekend. I can get some then.”
“Okay, great. We’ll start upstairs this Sunday. Hopefully, I won’t be too hungover after drinks at Liam’s.”
“Hopefully, not.”
“Your room isn’t too bad, but I bet your parents’ room needs lot of work. Your mother had an acquired taste. Best to start as soon as we can.”
He places another kiss.
The pain I feel is unbearable and has nothing to do with his whiskers.
I’m not ready to go into my parents’ room.
To get rid of their stuff.
CHAPTER 55
Ambrose—present day
People stroll around, placing flowers against the marble stone that has both of my parents’ names in gold writing.
Pink roses seem to be the majority’s favorite.
Mom’s favorite was dahlias, which is why I have a pretty bunch set safely in my passenger seat. I’d chosen these with both of my parents in mind. Dad didn’t particularly like flowers, but he’d buy a bunch weekly because he liked the smile they’d put on Mom’s face. And weekly, she’d struggle to keep that bunch alive.
It was a novelty that started after they’d earned thousands from book deals and documentaries about their missing kids.
My head drops for the seconds I feel I shouldn’t be here.
Another semi-familiar face lays flowers on their gravesite when I look over. People start to move off, heading back to the cars that clog up the car park, leaving me out on the edge of the road in this tiny cemetery. A few linger behind, preventing me from paying my respects here for the first time ever.
A knock on the window I face away from makes me jump, but it’s just a friendly face. Clara smiles at me. Her black dress and ankle Wellingtons are an odd combination and help to lift my lips as I let my window down.
“Hey, hon.”
My tight smile places my father’s face in my head. The skin tone I’d inherited from my birth mother’s mixed heritage and all the scars prevent me from being a replica of him, but there’s no denying we look similar.
“Do you want me to walk down with you?” Clara’s curled gray hair blows around her ears.
The weather is mild today, but the breeze is still enough to steal your breath for a few seconds when it hits your face.
