Page 20 of Wild Eyes
And that blind trust fucked me.
With a shake of my head, I turn my attention back to the girl. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Emmy. I’m six.” She sticks her hand out to shake mine and includes her age like she’s very proud of it. “And that’s my brother, Oliver. He’s eight.”
I take her small, sticky hand and think back to Rosie mentioning the pile of freezies. “Pleasure to meet you, Emmy,” I say, infusing as much enthusiasm into my voice as I can. “I already met Oliver. He was kind enough to let me sit in his spot with him.”
Her brows scrunch as she watches her brother, who pushes to standing and flips his book shut. “You already met him?”
She seems confused by my story, and I tilt my head with a slow nod. “Yeah. He introduced himself.”
Her eyes flare, and her small, Chiclet-like teeth light up her entire face. Then she punches him in the shoulder—lovingly but still rather forcefully. “Oh, hell yeah, Ollie.”
I don’t know what the exchange means, but Oliver’s cheeks go a dark red and he becomes fixated on the rocks beneath his feet.
Before I can ask anything, Emmy slips her sticky hand into mine. “Come. You’re having dinner with us. My dad makes thebestburgers.”
“Oh, no. I really couldn’t. I don’t want to interfere with your family time. I bet you and your parents have plans.”
Emmy scoffs and tugs me toward a narrow path I missed when I off-roaded down the drop. Her tight grip makes me feel like I’m being taken in for questioning. “Please, it’s just Dad. And he won’t mind.”
My inner nosy bitch pops up out of nowhere. “What about your mom?”
Emmy shrugs casually. “Dunno. I bet she and Brandon are at their house eating something really healthy.”
My confusion only builds.
“Who’s Brandon?”
I let her lead me up onto the grass and can hear Oliver’s footsteps behind me. Her brother can’t get a word in edgewise, not with Emmy talking a mile a minute.
“Our stepdad.” I stutter-step, and Emmy yanks on my arm, pulling me forward. “Hurry up, I’mstarving.”
My feet move forward, but my mind is spinning.Stepdad. As in…divorced?
I know it’s not my business, but it gets me wondering all the same. It makes me want details.
Details I have no business asking about.
Most of the questions that spring to my mind are easy enough to push away. I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman. Just because my parents’ recent divorce blindsided me doesn’t mean I need to quiz a little kid about her experience with it.
In fact, she is handling it a lot better than I am. Then again, her parents are no doubt better people than mine.
Which, to be fair, is not that hard to achieve.
What is hard, though, is keeping myself from wondering just how single Weston Belmont might be.
CHAPTER SIX
WEST
I flipthe burgers and lean back a little to inspect my handiwork, only to be interrupted by a shrill, excited, “Dad! Guess what!”
I sigh and let my eyes flutter shut.
Emmy.
Emmy is the apple of my eye. My little mini-me. But she is also the primary source of my exhaustion. A tiny tornado. Short in stature but full up on attitude and zest for life.
