“I just wanted a balloon and to go to Dahlia’s party.”
“But Dahlia didn’t want you at her party. She doesn’t like you.”
Chuckles climbs onto our dresser, sitting too close. The wood groans as he edges closer.
Ambrose stiffens before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me onto his lap.
A small squeal bounces off my tongue when he squeezes too tightly on my swollen belly.
“That’s sweet, you’re protecting her.”
“Can we go home?” Ambrose holds me tight, and I hold back. Not even caring about the blood on his chest, clinging to my face as I nuzzle in.
“Are you missing your Mommy and Daddy?”
“Yes.”
I nod, agreeing with my big brother.
“It sounds like they are missing you guys, too. Does that make you sad?” Chuckles teases.
“We wanna go home.”I find my words in the support of Ambrose’s hold.
“Oh, little Lancie. Do you not like this place? Would a new balloon make it better?” Chuckles laughs, the sound echoing through the wet room.He jumps from the dresser. “I’ll go and get you one.”
Splash… splash… splash…
I don’t make requests for which animal he’ll make. I know that not even a balloon will make me feel better.
And I need him out of this room quickly because I need to use the bucket again.
CHAPTER 17
Dollie—present day
How Shane’s so tired, I do not know. We were up late watching movies, which was his idea and choice. A comedy marathon—in an attempt to soothe my anxiety. However, he’d slept through most of them and slept this morning after a few quick inquiries to wedding venues. And now, he’s sleeping again.
I honestly don’t know how he’ll cope when he goes back to work next week. And I don’t know how I will either.
How will I be okay in this house alone?
His phone, surprisingly, hasn’t disturbed his beauty sleep.
With barely a minute between each alert, it’s buzzed continuously for the last fifteen minutes.
I eye the clock on the mantel with a squint before checking him in the broken mirror above. That will be leaving this place today, and it can take its bad luck with it. The blob of paint on the fireplace, the one that landed there as I struggled to open the can with a rusty screwdriver I found in the kitchen, calls to me. That was how my day started…and it’s gotten no better. Since then, I’ve stained one of my favorite hoodies and matted my hair.
Shane lies with his legs stretched out, mouth gaped open, and his brown eyes moving beyond the lids like he’s having the most fascinating dream, totally oblivious to the phone on the cushion at his side when it buzzes again.
I sigh.
Returning my attention to the job at hand, another layer of pink hides the letters on the wall. It’s taken me all day—but finally—damn, finally—the lies about me are gone. In this room, at least.
Buzz.
Who on earth could that be?
A thought whirls in my head, jogging memories about my favorite venue getting back to us. Last night, after everything had settled, we’d messaged the little place with the dome and received an automated email saying someone would reach out in the coming days.
