“Thanks for helping me, Hattie,” Buck said miles down the road. “Finding you again was an absolute godsend.”
I could feel Miller’s heavy stare, but I didn’t return it. I didn’t have to guess what he was thinking. Buck was a needy disaster. It looked like I was enabling, but I was merely trying to help. After Buck’s week was up at the bed-and-breakfast, I’d wish him well, endeavor to stay in touch, but cut any financial ties. Yes, that’s exactly what I’d do.
Thirty minutes later, the innkeeper swiped my Visa at the Magnolia Manor. It was a beautiful two-story home with a view of a meandering creek, provided two meals a day, and was within walking distance of a Walmart.
“Goodbye, Buck.” I didn’t hug my bio-father when we left, but instead stood on a small porch with Miller and thought longingly of the snacks I’d left in the floorboard of my car. I’d be eating them as soon as we put that Ford in drive. “Don’t get in any fights with the owner ofthisplace. Mrs. Welby looks about eighty, but my money’s on her if you two come to blows.”
“You’re too good to me.” Buck rubbed his bloodshot eyes and gave a self-conscious smile. “Hey, one more thing. Donnie at the camp threatened to tow my truck if I didn’t move it soon.”
“Hattie’s done a lot for you, Buck,” Miller said. “How about you take care of that detail?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I stepped off the porch, tugging Miller with me before he asked Buck for a deposit and a formal apology. “Behave yourself.”
“Hattie, why don’t you come back and pick me up Wednesday night for dinner?” Buck leaned off the porch, clutching a rail as if he needed it to hold him upright. “I’ll buy. We’ll talk some more.” His hazel eyes focused long enough to find mine.
“I’ll see you then.”
“Bring me a six pack of Miller Lite too.” He caught my laugh and coordinating eye roll. “Too much?”
“Too much, Buck.” I opened my passenger door and waved. “See you then.”
“Do you still have thatMy Dad Sucksplaylist?” I asked as Miller navigated his truck far away from Magnolia Manor.
“I do.” His hand gently squeezed my knee. “But I’m not sure you’d want to hear it.”
“Just say it.” I studied Miller’s profile—from the tension in his forehead to the grim set of his lips. “I know you want to tell me how wrong I am.”
“You’re being played, Hattie.”
I let Miranda Lambert belt out a few stanzas before I quietly responded. “I know I am. But I can’t stop. Helping people is what I do.”
“At what cost?”
I needed my head examined. I recognized that. “Maybe I thought if Buck got to know me, he’d say something that would help me let go.” Tears clouded my vision, and I turned my head toward the window. “I also thought if I could point him in the right direction, he might get it together at least a little bit.”
“Someone once told me about looking at a situation with a soft eye,” Miller said. “Maybe it’s time to pull back and look at the whole scene.”
“I have to see this through.”
“See what through? What do you need out of Buck?” Miller’s eyes quickly met mine before returning to the highway. “You wanted an apology, and you got one. You wanted him to admit he’d made mistakes—and he did.”
I swiped at a tear and clasped Miller’s hand, needing to feel his warmth. “I want him to mean it.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ava’s birthday party had finally begun.
Part of me wanted to tell her adulthood was a total scam, and to turn back and refuse to answer the door when her thirteenth birthday knocked.
But the other part of me thought with all of Olivia’s preparations, Ava was about to experience the celebration of her dreams.
“You’ve outdone yourself, sister.” I hugged Olivia and let my gaze travel the acreage surrounding Miller’s house.
“I had a little help from Paisley,” Olivia said of our event-planner cousin, who also resided in Sugar Creek. “But a lot of the ideas were all yours. If you ever need a job, Paisley says you’re an instant hire.”
I laughed and watched vehicle after vehicle park, and excited kids and curious parents get out. “I think I’ll stick with the therapy business, but thanks for the offer.”
“Hello, lovies!” Sylvie sashayed toward us with Aunt Frannie in tow. Sylvie was her usual stylish self, today looking like she was ready for her Ralph Lauren photo shoot in her tall leather boots, skinny jeans, and houndstooth blazer cinched to accentuate her small waist. Meanwhile, Aunt Frannie did not disappoint with her Birthday Girl t-shirt emblazoned with Ava’s face. She’d dressed this clothing choice up with neon Birkenstocks, a fresh manicure with tiny cakes painted on her nails, and a long black wig that looked as if it had been borrowed from Beyonce’s collection. It was quintessential Frannie.
