Page 87 of Severed Heart
I palm my chest and grimace. “Oof. Such a heart-breaker.”
“Though . . .” She rolls her eyes down my frame. “I have to admit you’re looking better now,” Charlie spouts. “You’ve grown into your big-ass ears.”
“Shots fired,” I drawl, “and eat your heart out.”
“And you can eat a dick.” She beams at me with her delivery. “But the dimple is hot.”
It’s then I notice the bags stacked next to them, and my heart stutters at the sight.
“All right,” I say, my protective streak taking over as I cross my arms. “Time to come clean. What the hell is going on?”
Jane’s blue eyes water as Charlie maintains her notoriously stiff upper lip—though her expression is fear-filled. Jane ditches the quilt and steps up to me as I ask the obvious.
“You ran away?” I ask, and Tweety nods. It’s no surprise, seeing as their parents are neglectful addicts.
Though we met years ago—barely out of diapers and daycare—we’ve gathered on many nights since, sharing food while commiserating. A sort of streetside potluck of misfits who didn’t really have dinner to go home to or, like me, didn’t want to be at the table—the reason Dom’s constantly raiding the cabinets. Even though his bank account amount is gradually increasing, he still passes through often, especially because Charlie and Jane are his favorites and the reason for his text.
“We can’t do it anymore, Tyler.” Jane’s eyes spill over. “They were going to pawn us off on some relative again to go on a bender. We just want to wait it out until she turns eighteen in a few months.” She nods toward Charlie.
Racking my brain, I think of our garage and know that’s no place for them to stay temporarily. My house is no place for guests for the moment, either, what with Dad’s hellish mission to stay sober. At this point, Carter’s home is the place where I bathe and sleep while practicing living in the shadows. Just after I dismiss those options, an idea comes to me, one I assume is why Dom texted, and I stalk over to Charlie, who now has tears in her own eyes.
“Charlie, you know damned well that you can trust me.” Both Charlie and Jane are in the know about our club but opted out. Neither wanting to live an unpredictable life after what they’ve already endured.
“I know ... I’m just embarrassed,” Charlie says, a prideful tear sliding down her cheek. “We can’t go back to them, Tyler. We just can’t.”
“I’ve got you. It’s not the greatest place, but it has a roof and plumbing.” I pick up a handful of their bags and walk them over to deposit them in my truck bed. “Come on, Tweety, let’s get you to your new nest. It’s freezing out here,” I tell Jane as she runs over and enthusiastically grabs more bags.
“Where are we going?” Charlie asks skeptically as I load the last of them into my truck.
“You like apples?” I ask as we pull out of the alley.
“Love ’em,” Jane says as Charlie shrugs in indifference.
An hour later, I have them set up and warming next to a firepit at one of our labor houses at the orchard, which won’t be needed until early spring. If push comes to shove, I’ll tell Uncle Gray. He won’t like it, but he’ll allow it once I relay the situation in detail. Thinking on that, I decide to shoot off a text to Barrett relaying the same. Our relationship is on a slow mend but still strained due to Dad’s bullshit. With Barrett’s quick reply, I feel a little better leaving them there, especially after he agrees to check in on them and report back since he lives close to the labor house.
It’s when I still can’t find a mental way to wind down as I drive back across town that I find myself parking my truck and walking along the edge of the neighborhood to get to their street. Stalking toward the patch of sidewalk across from her house, her written words drive me toward it—forever on the forefront of my mind.
I told him I would leave him and woke up with a knife to my throat.
Images of her written words shutter through my mind as a rogue thought sends an uneasy skitter up my spine. Who exactly is this asshole she decided to allow to court her? And why now? I was worried she might decline during our months apart, but maybe Delphine’s made more progress, and I should be happy about it. Still, I can’t help the unease that’s been sneaking in all night at the thought of any man entering her life and their treatment toward her after what she’s survived.
It’s when I corner her street that my sudden ill-at-ease premonition is confirmed as Delphine’s shriek reaches me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
TYLER
IN A BLINK, I’m only a few houses away from her driveway as the source of her annoyance bursts out of the front door, half-dressed, shirt in hand while making a beeline for his car.
Ignoring the immediate sting of jealousy, I make it to her driveway in a blur, taking a mental snapshot of the license before meeting the asshole at the front bumper of his expensive sedan. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he barely acknowledges my murderous stare while issuing his warning.
“I wouldn’t recommend going in there.” He glances back at the house as he opens his driver’s door muttering, “Crazy bitch.”
Needing to get to her but tempted to make him swallow his fucking tongue, her cries reach me where I stand—deciding for me on which instinct to act on just before the asshole races out of her driveway.
Burning his plate into memory for safekeeping, I pound up the porch steps two at a time, and am stopped short outside the screen door by the sight of her.
Crouched in the middle of her living room floor, wearing nothing but fitted white cotton underwear, Delphine rocks back and forth, arms wrapped around her legs.
