Page 54 of Love Notes & Lifelines
Danica comes to a stop on the sidewalk a few feet away from us. Her face curls into a cruel expression as she sizes up Stella, then each girl in turn. Emmy whimpers and hides her face in the crook of my neck. The need to protect sizzles in my veins with Hulk-like energy.
Emmy’s little body trembles. Why the fuck is this little girl so terrified of her own aunt?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
STELLA
The womancurrently glaring at me and the girls makes me want to hug everyone in my vicinity. And it’s not only because Emmy’s attempting to climb inside of Beck’s chest. It’s because this woman stands like a bully about to throw the first punch—and I’m done with bullies taking advantage of innocent people.
I have personal experience with bullies of all ages, and I’m still trying to recover from them.
“Hey, Emmy,” I murmur. The little girl lifts her damp eyes from Beck’s shoulder and practically launches herself at me.
Beck steadies her on my hip because I’m still holding Ruby on my other side. The angry blond woman scoffs but doesn’t move closer. A million questions pass between Beck and me that neither of us has the time to answer. But there’s a shift in our relationship in the span of a breath. A connection is reinforced as we stand united against this clear threat.
“I’m going in there,” I say, nodding to where Mrs. Williams just entered. The building in question has brightly decorated windows displaying everything from candy to fishing bait, so I’m assuming it’ll have something to distract the girls. “It looks like there’s some…something in there…for them. Maybe.”
He nods, but we both turn our heads when Daisie barks again. A man in his mid-thirties gets into Beck’s car and pulls it to the side of the road.
I open my mouth, but Beck waves me off. “It’s fine. That’s Leo.”
My brows must reach my hairline.
“Welcome to Sailport Bay, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart,” the horrible woman hisses. “That’s convenient.”
I ignore her, and if Beck’s not worried that a man just drove off in his car, I won’t be either. The woman in front of me opens her mouth, but I cut her off by walking through the center of our strange little circle, heading for the store.
“Go with her please?” Beck asks, and before I know who he’s talking to, his cousin Tabby cuts in front of me and opens the door.
Thank God. The girls are little, but I’m seriously out of shape. Carrying them both makes my muscles shake.
Entering the store is like being transported back in time. Penny candy lines one wall. Though it no longer costs a penny, it’s still cheap enough that even I can afford it.
All the outside chatter fades to white noise when the door swings shut. I release a long breath, then step to the side and kneel while keeping my arms around the girls.
Tabby flops down in front of us with her legs crisscrossed and a smile that would tell anyone she’s related to Beck.
Mrs. Williams walks toward us wearing aSailport Bay is for Lovers, Sailport is for LosersT-shirt. She’s carrying chocolate lollipops, which makes me relax in relief. She hands them to me, then slowly lowers herself to the floor too.
My mouth might be gaping because this is the oddest welcome I’ve ever experienced. “Thank you,” I say.
“That was Danica the devil eater.” Tabby throws her thumb over her shoulder.
I nod politely but focus on unwrapping the lollipops, which takes more effort than it should because grabby-hands Ruby is climbing my arms to get to it.
After handing Ruby the first lollipop and silently praying it doesn’t end up in my hair, I offer the second to Emmy. Lowering myself to a sitting position, I spread my legs and both girls crawl between them.
By the time we’re all settled, both women are staring at me with obvious interest.
“I told ya, Tabs,” the older woman says with a weathered smile.
“You did. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, though.”
It’s obvious they’re talking about me, but it’s best if they keep their theories to themselves.
“Who was that woman, and why are they”—I indicate the girls with my chin—“scared of her?” Asking questions is easier than deciphering their riddles.
