Page 90 of Cruel King

Whitley shook her head. “Is Dad almost ready? We should go.”

“Let me check on him.”

Cynthia disappeared to check on her husband, leaving us alone in the living room.

“So, you were a natural brunette.”

“Don’t remind me.”

I fingered the rainbow ends. “I like it however you wear it.”

“I haven’t had my natural brown hair in ages. I don’t even know what I’d look like with it.”

“You’d be as beautiful as ever,” I assured her, planting a kiss on her lips.

A moment later, her father appeared in the doorway. He looked frailer than the last time we’d seen him. Just over a month had passed, and the difference was striking. Whitley’s face crumpled at the sight of him. She’d been trying not to think about her family and the tumultuous relationship she had with them, but seeing him like this only a month later had to be discomfiting.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling Whitley into a hug.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“It’s the annual Fourth of July festival. Of course we’re going to go.”

Whitley didn’t argue with him, just followed her parents out to the car. We piled into the backseat, and a few minutes later, we were parked in front of a colossal white structure that was the local country club.

Whit had warned me what we were going to do here, but I hadn’t known what to expect. The building was enormous, and the small festival I had anticipated was a huge carnival—complete with rides, food, and games—with people already camping out on the golf course to watch the fireworks.

Before we took two steps toward the festival, two young ginger children barreled away from their parents and collided with Whitley. She laughed and sank down to their level.

“Aunt Whit!” they both cheered.

She hugged each of them tight. “It’s so good to see you.” Her smile was infectious as she looked up at me. “This is Wesley and Wynona.” Then she gestured to me. “And this is Gavin.”

Wynona eyed me warily, but Wesley stuck his hand out like he was a proper gentleman. I shook it just as dramatically.

“Hi. I’m going into the second grade.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Are you going to bring Aunt Whit here more often?”

Wynona perked up at this, slinking out from behind her brother in anticipation of my answer.

“I would be delighted,” I assured him.

Whitley laughed, ruffling Wesley’s impeccable hair. He ducked, as if offended by the gesture.

“You two are going to be coming to New York soon for our wedding.”

“Is that like California?” Wynona asked softly. “We saw you in California.”

“It is nothing like California,” Whitley said with a laugh. “But you’ll like it all the same. There’s so much to do. Plus, you’ll be our flower girl.”

Wynona’s eyes lit up at that. “I can do that!”

“And I will be the ring bearer,” Wesley said proudly.

“That you will,” a voice said, now that their parents had finally caught up with them. The voice belonged to a woman nearly as short as Whitley, which was a feat. She had long ginger hair and a kind smile. “Hi, I’m Carrie.”

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