Page 34 of Home Sweet Home

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The check satin Evie’s junk drawer, wedged between a boot-shaped bottle opener—she had no idea where it had come from—and a smattering of magnets that hadn’t made the shortlist for the fridge. More than once, late at night, she’d tiptoed into the kitchen and opened the drawer to make sure it was still there. Sometimes, she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting it to be gone when she opened them, but it was always there.

So, on her one glorious day off, Evie decided to cash it, and with the last check she’d gotten from Joe’s, of which she’d saved every penny, she handed Gloria a check for four thousand dollars.

Gloria smiled as Evie handed her the check, her smile widening as she looked it over. “This should settle it, Evie.”

Back at home, her debt paid off, Evie waited for relief to wash over her. Sure, there was still the Visa bill, the car payment and insurance, and the looming promise of the class for Josh, but they would keep the house. She’d clawed her way out of the deepest hole she’d dug so far.

Standing in front of her refrigerator, which she’d opened to grab something she couldn’t even remember, Evie thought about West. She replayed their conversation in the salon the night before and the stupid way his mouth twisted when he smiled. She imagined him leaning in, how his lips would feel pressed against her neck—

“What are you looking at?” Josh asked.

Evie slammed the door shut, trying not to look guilty. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been standing there for like two minutes, just staring.”

Evie’s eyes darted, searching for something to explain what she’d been doing, wringing her hands because she didn’t know anything better to do with them. “I’m… cooling off.”

Josh gave her a long look then shrugged and started rooting around in the pantry. “Whatever.”

“How are you liking the team?”

Josh shoved a fistful of Doritos into his mouth, cheesy crumbs spilling out as he talked. “It’s okay.”

“Must be nice to see Oliver again.”

He stopped chewing long enough for Evie to notice it. “Sure.”

“Why are you avoiding him, then?”

“I’m not avoiding him,” Josh snapped, but Evie didn’t need to hear his tone of voice to know he was lying because she’d already seen it up close. At practice, he always picked the spot on the bench in the dugout farthest away from Oliver, and after being paired together once, Josh had gone out of his way to partner with someone else every other time they’d practiced throwing and catching.

Evie sighed. “Josh, I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

Things had been easier when he wasn’t seventeen and stubbornly insistent on keeping things from her. When she was just his sister, he used to tell her everything. He would rush into her room to show her a picture he’d drawn or ask her to help with his math homework. He wasn’t ten anymore; she was smart enough to know that. He was grown, but she knew something else had changed. She just didn’t know what, and after all the fishing she was doing, he wasn’t biting.

“Holy fuck, it’s hot,” Kayla said, coming into the kitchen, one hand gripping a bottle of wine. Evie hadn’t even heard the front door open. “I have second-degree burns on my ass from my car seat.” As Kayla grabbed two wineglasses and the corkscrew, Josh slipped away with the bag of chips. “Why hello to you too, Josh,” Kayla called out down the hallway as she popped the cork in one easy motion. “What crawled up his ass?”

“Wish I knew,” Evie said.

Kayla held out a glass. “Still cold.”

Evie glanced at the owl clock. It was only one in the afternoon, but it was Evie’s day off, and maybe the wine would help clear her mind. Evie took a sip, then she started in on the familiar rhythm of baking the pies she owed Joe, shoving two boxes of butter into the freezer and pouring flour into the bowl of the scale, trying to read the numbers flashing erratically on the small screen.

Evie shook it. “This thing is useless.”

Kayla licked her lips. “Ooh. What kind of pies are we making this week?”

“Apple rhubarb,” Evie said, unfolding the zip tie around the top of the apple bag. “Lemon. And peach.”

When the word came out of her mouth, she didn’t hear it in her own voice, but in a slow Southern drawl, and her body shook like a snake shedding its skin.

“Interesting,” Kayla said from behind her wineglass.

Evie sifted the flour she’d measured into her food processor, hoping it was the right amount. She’d been going by feel ever since her scale had gone on the fritz. “Hmm?”

“Well, you said, ‘Peach,’ and then you convulsed. It looked like demons were exiting your body.”

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