Fool Me Once(11)



Eddie met them at the door. He too was a reflection of the house—one thing before Claire’s death, something faded and gray since. “How did it go?” he asked his daughter.

“We lost,” Alexa said.

“Oh, sorry.”

She kissed her father’s cheek as she and Daniel hurried inside. Eddie looked wary, but he stepped aside and let Maya in. He wore a red flannel shirt and jeans, and once again Maya got a whiff of too much mouthwash.

“I would have picked them up,” he said defensively.

“No,” Maya said, “you wouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t mean . . . I had a drink after I knew you were taking them.”

She said nothing. The boxes were still piled in the corner. Claire’s stuff. Eddie hadn’t yet moved them into the basement or garage. They just sat in the living room like the work of a mad hoarder.

“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t drink and drive.”

“You’re a prince, Eddie.”

“So superior.”

“Hardly.”

“Maya?”

“What?”

The tufts of stubble still dotted his chin and right cheek—spots he’d missed shaving. Claire would have seen them and told him and made sure that he didn’t leave the house looking so disheveled.

His voice was soft. “I didn’t drink when she was alive.”

Maya didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept quiet.

“I mean, I had a drink every once in a while, but—”

“I know what you mean,” Maya interrupted. “Anyway, I better go. Take care of them.”

“I got a call from the town soccer association.”

“Right.”

“Seems you made quite a scene today.”

Maya shrugged. “I just discussed the rules with the coach.”

“What gave you the right?”

“Your son, Eddie. He called me to help your daughter.”

“And you think you helped?”

Maya said nothing.

“You think an asshole like Phil forgets something like this? You think he won’t find a way to take it out on Alexa?”

“He better not.”

“Or what?” Eddie snapped. “You’ll handle it some more?”

“Yeah, Eddie. If that’s what it takes. I’ll stand up for her until she can stand up for herself.”

“By pulling down a coach’s pants?”

“By doing what it takes.”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“Loud and clear. I said I’ll stand up for her. You know why? Because no one else will.”

He recoiled as though he’d been slapped. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“Fine.” Maya started for the door, stopped, faced him. “Your house, by the way, is a toilet. Straighten it out.”

“I said, get out. And maybe you shouldn’t come by for a while.”

She stopped. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t want you around my children.”

“Your . . . ?” Maya moved closer to him. “Do you want to explain?”

Whatever anger had been in his eyes seemed to dissipate. Eddie swallowed, looked off, and said, “You don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“You were the one who did battle so the rest of us didn’t have to. You used to make us feel safe.”

“Used to?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

He finally met her eye. “Death follows you, Maya.”

She just stood there. In the distance, someone turned on a television. She could hear muffled cheers.

Eddie started counting on his fingers. “The war. Claire. Now Joe.”

“You’re blaming me?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, tried again. “Maybe, I don’t know, maybe death found you in some shithole in the desert. Or maybe he’s just always been inside of you and somehow you let him out or he followed you home.”

“You’re not making any sense, Eddie.”

“Maybe not. Man, I liked Joe. Joe was good people. And now he’s gone too.” Eddie looked up at her. “I don’t want anyone else I love to be next.”

“You know I would never let anyone harm Daniel or Alexa.”

“You think you have that power, Maya?”

She didn’t reply.

“You wouldn’t let anyone harm Claire or Joe either. How did that work out for you?”

Flex, relax.

“You’re talking nonsense, Eddie.”

“Get out of my house. Get out of my house and don’t come back.”





Chapter 4


A week later, the red Buick Verano was back.

Maya had been coming home from too long a day of flight lessons. She was tired and hungry and just wanted to get home and relieve Isabella. But now that damn red Buick was back.

How should she play it?

Just as she started going through her possible options, the Buick veered off again. Another coincidence, or had the driver figured that she was just heading home? Maya was willing to bet on the latter.

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