Wherever It Leads(107)

I plop the bag down on the table, rattling the basket of apples that sat upon it. When she comes around the corner, her brown eyes go wide as she grabs at the doorframe, obviously not expecting me.

“Damn it, Crew!” Julia says, clutching her chest with one hand. Her shoulders relax and a small sigh escapes her lips. I’m cautiously optimistic that maybe she’s relieved to see me, but it’s short-lived.

She throws her shoulders back and narrows her eyes. I don’t know exactly what effect it was supposed to have on me, but it’s a good thing I don’t really care.

“Lock your f*cking door,” I growl, returning her glare. “You’re lucky it’s me and not some * from one of the apartments across the street.”

“Lucky it’s you.” Sarcasm is thick in her voice as she shakes her head, her long black locks swinging side-to-side. She walks toward the stove and shuts off the music.

I crack the paper bag with the back of my hand, making her flinch. “I brought you some stuff.”

“Stop bringing me stuff.”

She keeps her back to me, picking up a lid and slamming it on a pot. I know she’s not happy to see me because she never is.

Tough shit.

“Where’s the monkey?” I ask.

“In the living room.”

Her words come out flat, but I’m used to it. I don’t expect anything more from her.

I can’t.

“Everleigh! Come here, baby girl,” she calls.

It’s such a natural thing, a mother calling her kid in for supper. It seems like just a normal part of an ordinary life. But I know the truth.

Appearances can be deceiving, but I enjoy the moment of deception. I’ll take what I can get.

A few seconds later, the sound of little feet come running into the kitchen. “Uncle Crew!”

I kneel on one knee as she runs to me, her black hair flowing behind her.

“Uncle Crew!” she yells again and falls wildly in my arms, nuzzling her face into my cold jacket. I grab the zipper and yank it down, afraid the frozen metal will sting her little face.

My lips find her forehead as she wraps her arms around me. I hold her close, brushing back her hair, breathing in the smell of bubble gum that I’ve come to associate with my little niece. “How are ya, monkey?”

“I’m good,” she giggles, pulling back and looking at me expectantly. “Did you bring me something?”

“Everleigh Nicole!” Julia reprimands her. “Have some manners!”

“But it’s Uncle Crew.” She bats her eyelashes at her mother, who rolls her eyes in response. “You did bring me something, didn’t ya?” She looks at me again, a grin splitting her cheeks.

I could never say no to this kid. She could ask me for the f*ckin’ moon and I’d figure out a way to get it.

“Come on. You know I brought ya something.”

Everleigh giggles and bounces up and down, her arms folded across the front of her Tinkerbell shirt. I reach in the bag and fish through the groceries and pull out a coloring book and a box of crayons. I really have no idea what the pictures are about, but it’s the only one they had at the store.

“Yay!” she squeals, holding them up in the air so Julia can see them. “Thank you! I’ll color you something beautiful and you can hang it at your house.”

“You’re welcome.” I hold her gaze and give her a little nod to let her know our routine was still on. She tries to wink at me, but both eyes just flutter a few times. It takes everything I have not to laugh.

As soon as Julia turns her back, I slip her a banana Laffy Taffy and she kisses my cheek. She does her best sneaky walk back into the living room to avoid being caught with candy before supper.

I watch her go. Her long dark hair, just like her mother’s, almost touches her waist. She’s so much like Julia. She has the same heart-shaped face with high cheekbones, and the same graceful way about her.

Even so, there is so much about Everleigh that is like my brother. She’s tall, like Gage, towering over most of her five-year-old friends. Her eyes are the same color, like the sky over the harbor on a really clear day. But the thing about my niece that reminds me most of my brother is her soul. Just like Gage, Ever is wise beyond her years. She’s ridiculously smart and more mature than I probably was until I was in my twenties.

My brother loved her so damn much.

I release a sigh and lean against the battered refrigerator and feel it settle against my weight.

Julia ignores me, working at the stove. She’s tied her hair back and I can see the stress in her shoulders, her posture defiant. She used to look that way in high school when she’d come to the house after a fight with her * parents. I hate seeing it now as much as I hated seeing it then. The only difference is now I have no one to blame but myself.

“You okay?” I ask, wondering if she will even respond to me. Sometimes she does. Sometimes she doesn’t.

It’s been a long two years since our worlds fell apart, but we’ve come to some sort of unspoken understanding. I’ve accepted that she’s gonna hate me for the rest of her life. She’s accepted that I won’t go away. We’ve made some progress over time. She doesn’t threaten me with a restraining order anymore. I don’t get pissed at her refusal to cooperate. I just do what I’m going to do and she huffs but accepts it. Progress.