Page 42 of Fierce Love
By the time the last puppy is born, it’s the middle of the night. Kinsley and Maren have made plans to get Kinsley out to the runs, hikes, and paddles around the campground for the rest of the week, with Maren playing coach and taxi driver.
“Since I’m already going to be out here,” Kinsley says, eyeing Cal and then the ten black puppies nestled into their mother, “maybe I could help look after the puppies each day after training?”
“No,” Hollyn says without a moment’s hesitation. “Maren’s a busy woman, and I don’t have a car to come pick you up. We’re not inconveniencing her.”
“My schedule is pretty tight some days,” Maren admits, but I can hear the reluctance in her voice. She’s already said shethinks Kinsley is a strong runner, and there’s nothing my sister loves more than tapping into potential. She won’t want to deter Kinsley from training in any way.
“I can play Uber driver,” I say. “My schedule is flexible. I can pick her up or drop her off. She can stay longer and help Cal here at the farm—I mean, campground.” I wink at Cal, and he rolls his eyes. The last thing he’ll want is regular company, but I also know he won’t break Kinsley’s heart just because he enjoys his solitude.
“Really?” Kinsley’s tired but delighted gaze meets mine. She reminds me so much of a younger, less jaded version of her sister. I might have disagreed with Hollyn in the moment, but there had been a certain wary, wounded quality to her when we were teenagers.
“Really,” I say. “Assuming it’s okay with Hols.” I nod toward Hollyn, trying out one of my old nicknames for her.
Kinsley’s gaze tracks between me and Hollyn, as though she’s finally catching on that there’s history between us. “What do ya say, Hols?” She lifts her eyebrows at her sister, a challenge.
Hollyn bypasses Kinsley and meets my gaze for one of the first times since we left the car. “You don’t have to…”
“I know,” I say, letting my response sit between us for a beat. “She reminds me of you, though, so it’s hard not to.”
Hollyn flushes, and Maren and Cal pretend to gather up things to get us all out of here. I’m done holding my cards close to my chest. It’s not who I am, and it’s not how I feel.
“It’s fine, Hollyn,” I say, again. “As long as you’re okay with it.”
Hollyn nods, and Kinsley lets out a squeal of delight, rushing over to the mom dog to give her a gentle pat and to speak quietly to her for a moment before gathering up her things.
“You can come play with the puppies too,” I say to Hollyn as we walk to my car.
She shakes her head. “I don’t like getting attached to things I know I can’t keep.”
Her comment is heavy with meaning, but if she thinks I’m one of the things she can’t keep, she’s dead wrong.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hollyn
Fourteen years ago
So far, being more open about our relationship has yet to bite me in the ass, but I keep waiting for the sting nonetheless. We get side-eyed when we go anywhere in his rich realm, but no one has said anything to my face. Around my neighborhood, everyone loves Nate, treats him like a son, and every time someone speaks to him like he belongs here, in my world, it warms my heart.
I’m sure it’s because he’s riding the high of his acceptance in my neighborhood that he’s decided I should formally meet his family. I’ve met his sisters and brother in passing a few times, but his parents have remained aloof and out of the picture. Upuntil now, I’ve been grateful. None of the stories about Celia and Jonathan Tucker are flattering.
I’m rushing around the apartment, putting the final touches on the dress, shoes, and jewelry Nate bought me to meet his parents. He didn’t say it, but I know he’s trying to conceal just how poor Aunt Verna and I are. He was very careful with his words the day when he took me shopping in downtown Tucker’s Town, as though he thought I’d object to his efforts or be offended by his money. To be fair, in my neighborhood, Iamboth of those.
But I don’t want to be a source of conflict between him and his family, and I can already sense it brewing under the surface. I know what it’s like to be attacked from within, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
A key slots into the lock on the apartment door, and I check the clock on the wall. Aunt Verna should still be at her shift at the café. If she got fired or she’s sick, I’ll need to pick up extra shifts at The Drunk Racoon to make sure our rent and bills get paid this month.
Instead, in waltzes Mickie, as though it’s my mother who lives here, not my aunt.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, and terror creeps into my throat. Aunt Verna told me she took back the key from Mickie, didn’t give her the new entrance code to the front door.
“Came to see my daughter. Heard you had a special event tonight.” She throws herself into the worn couch and grins at me. Her blond hair is cut into a short, straight bob. The wave in my hair comes from my father’s side of the family. “Talk all over the neighborhood how you landed yourself a Tucker. My baby!” She exclaims with a laugh. “God, you’ve done good, and without me to teach you.”
I can’t speak, afraid to set her off. She’s prone to throwing things, dragging me across a room, screaming at the top of herlungs, using her razor-sharp nails like knives. I can’t smell any alcohol from here, which is good. She’s so much worse when she’s been drinking.
She eyes my figure in the navy dress and low heels. Her gaze sticks to the necklace around my throat, the one Nate bought me for tonight. Even in the dim lights of the apartment, the small sapphires and diamonds are probably twinkling—they were in the bathroom mirror when I put it on.
“You ditch the birth control yet? Getting that boy’s seed in you is the best ticket to a good life. From what I hear, he’s not like his dad. He’d actually look after you and the kid, not let his baby mama and bastard run all over Bellerive, the rest of the world, as though they were nothing to him. Orforceyou intootheroptions.” The way she says it makes me think there’s a story there, but I’m not digging.
