Page 48 of The Last One You Loved

She looked confused.

“How you live your life now,” I said because she’d hurt me more than any other soul on the planet had ever done.

Understanding blossomed over her face, and she looked down, fidgeting with her fork. “Right…now.”

Mila interrupted us by plopping back down next to me and reaching for one of the pieces of bacon McKenna had placed there. I grabbed her hand to halt it. “How many now?”

She looked up at me with huge, pleading eyes. “Five plus two.”

I chuckled. “I think that’s enough, Bug-a-Boo. You’ll end up with a tummy ache if you keep going.”

“But bacon is my favorite food,” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Even above craps?” McKenna asked, and I almost laughed but held it back.

“Even above craps. Although, Nana’s apple pie might be tied for my favorite food. Nana?!” Mila bounced over to my mama. “Can we put baconinone of the apple pies? That would be the best pie ever in the entire world.”

Mama chuckled. “Maybe, chick-a-dee.”

“Yes!” Mila pulled her arm inward in another little victory move.

My alarm on my phone rang out, “Hey, Soul Sister” blaring through the air, and when I looked up from turning it off, McKenna’s lips were twitching.

“You’re still using that song?” She was trying not to laugh, but it was impossible not to hear it in her tone.

“Damn straight,” I said. “It’s a good song.”

She’d harassed me for making it my alarm a decade ago.

“Daddy! You owe another dollar for the cuss jar!”

I burst of laughter escaped me.

“Wow, how did she even hear you?” McKenna asked, glancing over to my daughter at Mama’s side.

“She’s just like Mama, got the ears of a barn owl.”

I rose and looked down at the woman who’d once destroyed my heart. “So…” I cleared my throat. “Looks like I have to run out to the Jenkins’ farm real quick, but I’ll be back to pick Mila up. You can come with us then, or you can go over now…it’s up to you.”

She tugged on her hair. “I’ll wait for you. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.”

? ? ?

I was still debating the wisdom of my mama and my demented self for letting her stay with us when I picked up Mila and drove us back to our house with McKenna following us in her rental car. The doubts had gotten worse when I’d gotten a call from the rehab clinic saying Sybil had walked out the door. It was partly my fault. I’d baited her by ignoring her last two calls demanding I come and see her. But it also meant she’d violated the judge’s orders, was going to see the inside of a jail this time, and could show up in Willow Creek at any moment.

My gut was churning over all of it, including whether or not to tell Mila the truth about who McKenna was. So many of the decisions I’d had to make as a parent were not black and white, and this was just one more of them. Sometimes, I wished I had a handbook filled with codes and regulations, like I did at my job, in order to navigate this role better.

“Daddy?” Mila called from her car seat in the back of the Bronco.

“Yes, Bug-a-Boo?”

“Do younotlike McKenna?”

Now there was a loaded question. Once upon a time, I’d loved her, and then hated her, and now I was terrified of her and the power she held over me and could hold over Mila. I desired her still, which was a fucking nightmare, but did I like her? I didn’t know her anymore, so how could I like or dislike her?

“I like her just fine,” I finally answered.

Mila was quiet for a moment, and I tried to assemble my emotions so she wouldn’t sense them.