Junkyard Dog(59)

“We had our lives. She wanted a man to love her.”

“She was weak.”

Honey studies me. “What happens when the twins get older and move away like we did with Mom? Will you be so confident then?”

“Yes because I’m not Mom.”

“I guess that means I am.”

“You don’t have to be.”

Honey shrugs again. Her gaze leaves me and focuses on her kids playing on the jungle gym. Cricket and Chipper are off to the side, away from the other children. My twins laugh at something, and I love how they have each other. They don’t beg for attention from others. That confidence is something I have to work hard at, and Honey never learned.

“Mom could have done anything,” I say. “She could have started over somewhere new. She talked about traveling, but she never saved up money to go anywhere. Mom had choices, but she only wanted a man.”

“She was lonely.”

“She could have gotten a hobby.”

“Do you have a hobby?”

“No, but I have a whole list of possible ones for when the kids get older. I plan to try each of them to see which ones I enjoy.”

Honey nods. “You always make things look so easy.”

“It’s a decision I made. You could make the same decision.”

Honey inhales deeply. When she exhales, I swear she looks a decade older.

“Why Andrew?” I ask, recalling how Hayes mentioned Honey once dated Moot. “Wasn’t there anyone else who made you happy?”

“There was one guy around the time I was dating Andrew. I liked them both, but I knew the other one wouldn’t make a good husband and father.”

“Why?”

“He was rough and wild. He didn’t have a secure job.”

“Do you ever have regrets?”

Lying on cue, Honey shakes her head. “He ended up in prison. I made the right choice.”

“But you liked him more than Andrew, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I made the right choice,” she says more strongly.

“This other guy wasn’t someone you could show off, huh?”

Shooting me a dirty look, Honey crosses her arms. “It wasn’t about that. I didn’t fit in his world, and he didn’t fit in mine.”

“If Andrew fits in your world, you should ditch it.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “Stop acting like you know me so well.”

“I know you well enough.”

“In high school, when kids made fun of you, you didn’t care. When they made fun of me, I cried myself to sleep. We’re different, Candy.”

I think of how much Honey always wanted to be accepted even by losers.

“I never understood why you cared what those morons thought. They weren’t your friends. They didn’t know shit about you, so what did their opinions matter?”

“They just did.”

“And they still do, huh? That’s why you wear makeup to go to the park and dress your kids up in their Sunday best just to get dirty. You want to make a good impression on these strangers.”

“I feel their judgment if I don’t try to make a good impression.”

“Maybe there’s a pill to fix that.”

“I’m not crazy,” she says, glaring at me.

“I never said you were. I’m saying modern medicine has help for people’s phobias. Mom never wanted to try an anti-depressant. It might have saved her.”

“That and a hobby, right?”

Narrowing my eyes, I want to say something nasty to my sister. She waits for me to let loose, but I don’t. Douche has kicked her around too much, and I’m not him.

“I do resent her giving up. If she hadn’t, she’d probably live in White Horse with us. We’d take our kids to grandma’s house on the weekends. It makes me mad that the twins will never know her. Doesn’t it piss you off?”

Honey stares at her hands, and I realize I’ve kicked Honey despite my intention to be gentle.

“I miss her,” she whispers in a wobbly voice. “We talked once about her making my kids’ sandwiches and taking them to the park. She acted like she was looking forward to being a grandma, but she never got to meet them.”

Honey and Mom shared a bond I never managed to duplicate with either of them. I was closer to Peat, but he was easy to love. The guy loved making people laugh.

“I miss Peat,” I mutter, ready to cry too. “He would have made a great uncle.”

Our afternoon out has turned into a miserable walk down memory lane. I’m depressed by the time I return to the office with the kids. They run outside to play with Nightmare while I stand at my desk and think about how Peat would have found Hayes funny. They might have even become friends.

“Are you all right?” asks one of the gardeners.

Before I can say anything, Hayes storms out of the back office and waves a gun at the guy.

“Go away,” he growls, and the gardener isn’t the only one ready to run. I nearly piss myself at Hayes’s sudden rage.

“What happened?” Hayes asks, looking around as if we’re under attack. He checks on the kids in the back with Nightmare. Once he feels satisfied with our safety, Hayes returns to my side. “Why are you crying?”