Page 18 of Only Between Us

“For shit’s sake, love.” Evan catches on to his wife’s antics, whips his hand away from her prying, cheater gaze. He gives her a slow, exasperated shake of his head while a reluctant smile pushes through his stern expression. Mom and I laugh quietly on the couch.

I’ve watched Shy’s parents together for nearly twenty years, butthey still give me the same butterflies I felt when I met them as a kid. There’s something so charming about their dynamic. The way she goes out of her way to tease him, annoy him. His feigned irritation, the way he can never stay stern with her longer than a few seconds before hearts start pouring from his eyes.

He can’t even manage afor shit’s sakewithout tacking on an endearment.

Not that I’m especially itching to date given the recency of my breakup with Tom, but that’s the dynamic I long for. Playful and affectionate.

“Siena… you didn’t ride your motorcycle here, did you?” Mom’s hand smooths over the top of my head, drawing my attention. She’s staring at the messy bun I’d thrown my hair in—my signature look when helmet hair can’t be helped.

I should have known better. Momhatesthat motorcycle, the graduation present I bought myself with accumulated earnings from working at Ship Happens since I was fourteen.

“It was all right. Just a five-minute ride.” I lean over the coffee table to pick a piece of cheddar off the cheese board they’ve been nibbling at. “I considered walking, but… exercise.” I make a retching sound, exaggerating in the hopes that Mom will forget to scold me.

“Exercise.” Carla wrinkles her nose and shudders in palpable disgust. A woman after my own heart. “Hey, remember the day we all went out looking for the girls when school called to tell us they cut out of gym class?”

I groan and bury my face in my hands. “Carla.”

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare act ashamed of yourself now,” Mom says with a laugh, fortuitously swept up in the story.

Carla shakes her head. “I still remember that little shit-eating grin you gave us when we found you back at the marina, trying to get our sailboat off the dock.”

Evan grunts. “Out of your damn mind, girl.”

I resurface from behind my hands and lift them in surrender. “It was Shy’s idea—”

“No, it wasn’t,” they all say together.

I drop my hands to reach for Mom’s glass of pinot grigio. “Fine. Just admit you’d all have been bored without me. I really know how to give you your money’s worth.”

“Made my hair turn gray sooner than it should’ve in life,” Evan grumbles.

I snort into the wineglass. “You were bald when we met, Ev.”

“It fell out in preparation. Knew exactly what we were in for, even before we did.” He picks up the discarded playing cards sitting on the table and shuffles them into the deck. “You were trouble if I ever saw it.”

Mom and Carla chuckle. Evan even musters a look that might pass for affection.

But I sink back into the couch. Take a long sip of wine to cover the way the short-lived pride on my face falters.

You’d better hope you’re worth all that trouble.

None of them hear the dark echo of the words that have haunted me since I first heard them, almost exactly one year after I’d been taken in by the Robertses, who’d go on to sacrifice so much just to keep me with them. I’d have ended up in the system without their help.

My phone vibrates in my lap, signaling a handful of fresh notifications and a welcome distraction. More brands reaching out with ad offers, and…

Shit.

A text from Marty Wilson. My landlord. The man who owns the only apartment building in Baycrest.

MARTY:FYI, rent for the building goes up by 10% in thirty days.

What?My stomach plummets.

FYI?FYI?

That isn’t an FYI. On top of the fridge and the car, that’s the final nail on the coffin of my destitution. Apparently, bad things really do come in threes; I am so screwed.

Mom nudges me, staring at the way I hold the stem of her wineglass in a death grip. “Are you okay, angel?”