Page 114 of Wicked Pickle

“It’s your uncle!” Greta cries.

“And so am I!” I say, lifting him up and turning him upside down.

This time, he laughs and says, “Stop it!” in that tone kids use when they don’t really want you to.

Merrick leans down to Caden’s face. “I don’t think we’ve met, but I’m Uncle Merrick.”

“You are the worst uncle!” Caden squirts Merrick right in the eye even while upside down.

“Nice aim,” I tell him and whip him right-side up. I stick him on my shoulder. “I pick you for my team.”

“Die, everybody, die!” Caden shouts, squirting Merrick and Greta from above until he runs out of water ammo. “Refill, private!”

I lower him to the water so he can reload. “That’s sergeant, to you, civilian!”

Greta pushes her wet hair off her face. “I told him Uncle Merrick and Uncle Dean were in the Army.”

“And now, I am, too!” Caden dunks his water gun under the waves.

Merrick holds up a hand. “And you’re dead meat as soon as we resume action.”

“Not on my watch!” Caden shouts, rolling out of my arms and into the surf as he unloads a stream of ocean water on the rest of us.

“Definitely on my team,” I tell him. That kid has some buzz.

“Sorry if he’s a mess,” Greta says. “ADHD. Jude pretty much gave up on dealing with him.”

“He’s good,” Merrick says. “He’s perfect.”

Greta shifts in the sand, lifting a foot that was slowly sinking. “I haven’t been to the beach in forever.”

I glance at Merrick. I guess it’s time to ask the hard question. “Why are you here?”

She focuses on her dirty toes. “I left Jude.”

Merrick and I share another glance.

“I’ll go hang with Caden,” Merrick says. “You two talk.”

I wring out my drenched hat and gesture up the beach to the towels we set out. Merrick tries to steal Caden’s water gun, and they wrestle into the waves.

Greta settles on a towel, flapping her damp T-shirt so it will dry.

“Did that shitty husband of yours hurt you?” If he did, I’ll kill him.

“No. Nothing like that. He’s just … not there. I don’t know how to explain it. He won’t engage with any of us, and when I try to draw him out, he says it’s our fault his life sucks.”

I flop down on the other towel. “Sounds like he needs help.”

“Tried that. He lies to counselors. Gaslights me. I’m over it.” She draws her knees up to her chest like she needs to protect herself.

I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands for making her feel this way. “What’s your next move?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone what’s been going on. I wasn’t out of town a day when Dad calls asking if I’ll come there. Jude already contacted him with some sob story.”

I blow out a long breath. “Are the Pickles taking his side?”

“I don’t know. I can’t face any of them right now.”