Page 11 of Living for Truth (Broken Shelves #2)

Morgan

I don’t bother knocking on my parents’ door when I get to their house to pick up Aly. They always leave it unlocked for me when she’s spending time here, and if it’s locked, I have a key.

Laughter floats from the kitchen as I breach the entryway, and the sound has a smile tipping up the corners of my lips. Aly’s been struggling a lot lately with the stuff with her mom, but my parents always know how to boost her mood, and for that I’m grateful.

As silently as I can, I take off my shoes and make my way down the hall to the kitchen. As I peek around the corner, my dad, Axel, bends over the counter with his reading glasses perched on his nose. He is grumbling under his breath while he rolls out what I assume is cookie dough.

“Papa!” Aly giggles. “You’re pressing it too hard. You’re going to make our cookies too thin, and then they won’t be soft!”

“I’m trying my best, Sissy, but I’m just too strong to do it gently.” He stops rolling and flexes his muscles, causing Aly to giggle again and my mom, Iris, to roll her eyes.

“Here, Papa, I’ll show you how to do it gently.” Aly sets down her own rolling pin and makes her way around the counter, but before she can get to my dad, she sees me and smiles. “Hi, Dad! We’re making sugar cookies.”

I walk fully into the kitchen and stand by my mom. “I see that, Bub. It sounds like your Papa needs some baking lessons,” I tease.

“Don’t antagonize your father, Morgan,” my mom says with a gentle swat to my arm. “How was brunch with your friend?”

Aly has her hands on my dad’s and is gently explaining how to use the right pressure to get the best thickness for the dough, and my heart melts at their interaction.

Axel Fowler is not a small man. At six-foot-four and two-hundred-twenty pounds, he towers over my nine-year-old daughter.

He’s always been a man of few words, but his actions speak to how good his heart is.

Like right now, he could have let Aly and my mom make cookies alone, but he wanted to spend time with his granddaughter, so he’s doing something completely out of the ordinary for him to put a smile on her face.

“It was good,” I reply to my mom, never taking my eyes off of my daughter.

“You seem different than when you dropped her off, so I’m not buying that it was just ‘good.’” She sniffs.

I glance at her, then back over to Aly and my dad, then back at Mom and motion for her to follow me out on the patio. She sets her rolling pin down, washes her hands, and warns Aly not to eat any more dough before she meets me outside.

Their house has enough rooms for all of my siblings and me to sleep over for major holidays, and their backyard is big enough for a game of flag football.

The patio is covered, so we can still have a place to sit outside and enjoy the rain without getting drenched when the weather allows.

It’s currently coated in a layer of my daughter’s chalk art from earlier today.

“Aly’s getting really good at drawing, isn’t she?” I ask, settling into an Adirondack chair.

“Yes, she’s very talented. Don’t try to stall, young man,” Mom chides, settling in next to me.

“I told you I was going to meet the girl I accidentally texted two weeks ago.” Mom nods in agreement. “Well, turns out she’s also the gorgeous girl from the flower shop.”

My mom’s mouth drops wide open on a gasp, then she cackles what we’ve dubbed her “witch” laugh, smacking her knee. “What are the chances of that?!”

I can’t help but chuckle too, her laugh is contagious. “Yeah, it’s crazy. She also assumed I was a woman because I initially texted her about going on a date with a man.”

That makes her laugh even harder, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Morgan. That’s so funny. I needed a laugh today. What did she say when she saw you?”

“She thought the sister I mentioned at the shop was setting her up on a date. I cleared it up pretty fast, but she was still a little apprehensive at first.”

“Well, that’s understandable. I would be too if I was expecting a woman and you showed up instead.” She wipes at the few errant tears that have fallen out of her eyes. “What’s got you buzzing like a bee then?”

I’m unsure if I want to tell her. I love my mom, but she’s got a habit of trying to play matchmaker, and I don’t want her meddling in this. It’s too fragile. But then again, she’s always been there to help me with my relationship troubles.

I take a big breath, hoping I’m not creating more of an issue. “She’s the one.”

My mom narrows her eyes at me. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve always told me to trust my gut. I knew the minute I saw her today.

The more we got to know each other, the more I realized she’s it for me.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her—the ‘virtual’ her or the ‘flower shop’ her.

She’s got a lot of trauma from her ex-husband, so we agreed to just be friends for now, but I’m hoping she’ll feel the same way. ”

“Oh, honey.” My mom sets her hand on my knee. “I’m not going to tell you what you’re feeling isn’t true, because I’m not you. But I will tell you that if you’re already so far gone for this girl, you’ve got to protect your heart. She may never feel the same way you do.”

I know this, and I know she’s right, but I just… I just know. I know in my soul Hannah and I belong together. I may fall in love fast, but it’s always been a more lustful, overwhelming, can’t eat, can’t sleep kind of love.

What I feel for Hannah feels like snuggling up in a warm blanket on a rainy day and listening to the rain pitter patter on the window while I read my favorite book.

The feeling only grew the more time I spent with her.

And I know—I know it’s crazy as hell. Especially for someone my age.

But maybe that’s why I trust the feeling.

I’ve been around long enough to discern one feeling from another.

“I know, Mom. I have to look out for Aly, too. So Hannah and I will be friends, and whatever happens, happens.”

“You’re destined for a great love, Morgan. I’ve always known that. Please don’t settle for anything less.” Mom squeezes my knee and then stands. “We better make sure your daughter and father haven’t eaten all of my dough.”

I stand and follow her inside, where Aly is telling my dad about her new island in Critter Trails.

I don’t personally understand that particular video game, but Aly loves it, so I listen while she tells me about it.

From what I gathered, there’s no plot to the game.

You create islands and trade things with other villagers.

“Alright, Aly girl, let’s get these cookies in the oven so you and your dad can get going. I’ll send you home with the frosting so you can decorate them.” My mom uses a spatula to move the shaped dough pieces onto a baking sheet.

“Okay, Gigi, I’m going to go wash my hands. Dad, can I go get my GameSky so I can show Papa my new island?”

“Sure thing, Bub. I’ll help your Gigi clean up.”

“Thank you!” Aly’s voice echoes down the hallway as she darts to the bathroom.

“Did you have fun at Gigi and Papa’s?” I ask Aly later that night while we’re eating dinner.

She’s back to pushing her food around her plate, and a small frown has settled on her face. “Yeah, Gigi helped me draw with chalk, and Papa liked seeing my new island.”

I set my fork down and reach across the table to place my hand on hers. “What’s up, buttercup? You seemed so happy earlier with Gigi and Papa. Did something happen?”

She looks up at me, and her bottom lip wobbles. “I texted Mom to ask her if I could see her on Mother’s Day in a few weeks, and she said, ‘Sorry, Alyssa, I’m busy that day, maybe another time.’” She sighs. “I’m her only daughter. Doesn’t she want to see me?”

“I think it’s time I have a chat with your mom, Bub. I know you didn’t want me to, but if she’s not going to hold up her end of the bargain, that’s not fair to you.” My voice, luckily, doesn’t betray just how angry I am with Whitney. She’s going to get an earful from me.

Aly doesn’t say anything, just nods her agreement and starts pushing her food around her plate again.

After a few minutes where she hasn’t even taken a bite, she gently sets her fork down. “I’m not that hungry. Can I go play some video games until bedtime?”

“Sure thing, Bub. Just cover your plate in plastic wrap and put your fork in the dishwasher, please.”

She does as she’s asked, and Bean follows her as she makes her way to her room.

I take my time washing the dishes from dinner while I contemplate what I’m going to say to Whitney.

I hope she answers because if she doesn’t, I don’t know how I’m going to fix this.

I didn’t want to tell Aly this, but I’m going to threaten to take full custody and not allow visitation if Whitney doesn’t get her shit together and start spending time with her daughter.

I’d have a pretty good case since she hasn’t seen her in almost a year.

I knock on Aly’s door, and when I get the clear to come in, I poke my head in and say, “I’m going to be in my office if you need anything, okay?” All I get in response is a quick thumbs up, but I’ll count that as a win.

I head into the third bedroom, which I’ve made into an office, and sit down at my desk.

I don’t come in here very often, since I don’t like to bring work home with me, so it’s pretty empty.

All that’s in here is a bookshelf filled with books, an “L” shaped desk with my laptop on it, and my office chair.

I have a picture of Aly and me in the hospital from the day she was born on my desk, and I smile at the memory of the best day of my life.

Then, I put on my game face because it’s time to call her mother.

I click Whitney’s contact number and listen to it ring once, twice, three times before Whitney answers with a tinny, “This is Whitney.”

“Whitney, it’s Morgan. We need to talk about Alyssa.” I’m not going to waste time with pleasantries. I’m even more irritated that she doesn’t have my number saved.