One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(53)

“That’s what you two were arguing over? Porn?”

Haylie’s face blanched. “No. That wasn’t it. I would never call him out for that, but—” She seemed to notice that her fa?ade of being in control was slipping, and straightened. “I’m not into getting mad; I’m into getting even. Like this…” She walked to the crockpot, lifted the lid, shifted her jaw as though gathering her saliva, then spit right into the bubbling broth.

Emily recoiled internally. Nothing was more disgusting than perfectly good food being defiled, even if a part of her was cheering Haylie on for her quiet defiance. Maybe that was a first step towards finding the strength to stand up for herself by leaving.

Carina, on the other hand, burst out laughing. “Ew, sis. That’s so gross.” But when Haylie made to set the lid down, Carina took it from her. “Allow me to help,” she said with over-formality before added her spit to the pot.

Haylie’s face cracked into a grin. “See? You’re nasty, too. Must be a Briscoe thing.”

They both looked to Emily. Carina tipped her ear toward the crockpot. “Care to help season Wendell’s dinner?”

Spitting into food was not her jam, but she would never do anything to dim the renewed luster in Haylie’s eyes. Without looking into the pot, she said, “Maybe it needs some special pepper.” And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she took off her clog, held it over the crockpot, and tapped it until bits of dirt sprinkled down. Squelching her subsequent gag of revulsion was tough, but Emily managed.

The last vestiges of Haylie’s armor vanished. With a look of devilish delight, she skipped to a cupboard. “I have a better idea. I think the stew needs more meat in it.” She held out a can of beef-and-gravy premium dog food.

“Hell, yeah, it does,” Carina said.

As the dog food oozed out of the can and into the crockpot, Emily swallowed back another retch by imagining Wendell sitting down at the kitchen table that night and digging into a steaming bowl of Haylie’s special stew. She tried not to think about the chili for the Frito Pie she had sitting on Knox’s stovetop.

As if reading Emily’s mind, Haylie said, “Don’t tell Knox about this. Please. I need that job. It’s the first time I’ve—”

“You don’t have to say any more. I know.” Emily had no plans to breathe one word to anyone, especially Knox. There was too much humiliation involved in being abused to take on the additional shame of it being made public. She would never forget the looks she’d gotten the next day at school from two friends who’d been at her house and witnessed her dad losing control, drunk and stumbling, calling her a piece of shit before passing out on the sofa. Those friends never came back to her house. No friends did. Eventually, Emily stopped inviting them. The risk was too great.

Haylie looked at her phone, then crumpled. “Oh, shit. Look at the time. My lunch break ended an hour ago. Shit. Knox is going to fire me for sure.”

“He won’t,” Emily said, believing it.

“Let me hug you,” Carina said, choking up. “Please.”

Haylie picked up Twinnie, then allowed Carina to envelop them both in a hug. “You’re too good for him, sis,” Carina said.

“He and I belong together,” Haylie croaked.

“Stay at my place tonight, would you? That would make me feel so much better.”

Emily cringed. Carina didn’t realize it, but she was undoing their efforts to gain Haylie’s trust because Haylie wasn’t anywhere near ready, emotionally, mentally, to take such a leap as to sleep over at Carina’s house, even if only for a night. That would mean admitting there was a problem.

Sure enough, Haylie pushed out of Carina’s arms and threw a protective arm over Twinnie, as though Carina might snatch the dog from her hands to use it as leverage. “Are you kidding me? So you can spend the night judging me and begging me to leave him.”

“But it’s true. You need—”

Emily stopped Carina’s well-meaning, but ill-conceived plea with a hand to her shoulder. “Go wait in the living room. Give us a sec.”

Carina looked between Emily and Haylie. Emily tried to tell her it wasn’t personal and they weren’t shutting her out, but Emily and Haylie needed a moment—survivor to survivor.

Emily waited for Carina to leave, then reached onto her keychain and took off her apartment key. “My apartment is open to you, anytime, day or night, no questions asked and no lectures given. I’m rarely there, I don’t have any roommates, and it’s safe. Nobody knows where it is except Carina and that’s just the way I like it. Tell the guy at the front desk that I gave you a key and he’ll give you passage into the building.”

Emily pulled a paperback thriller from her purse and flipped to page 100. With Haylie looking on, she scribbled detailed directions to her apartment, right over the text. Better to write the instructions out longhand instead of a mere address so Haylie wouldn’t have to look up directions on an internet search engine if she decided to go, since Wendell could find her that way. And Haylie could keep the book close to her, in her car or purse, without anyone being the wiser. She tucked the key inside, then walked to a bookshelf she’d seen in the living room.

Carina was busying herself using the side of a magazine to push the broken vase pieces into a pile.