Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(30)

After Mom finished, Liane literally collapsed in a heap to the floor and bemoaned to the ceiling, “Why did we get Glinda the Good Witch as our mother? Why, why, why? Why couldn’t we be spawned of Elphaba?”

“Stop being dramatic and get up from that floor,” Mom ordered.

“Your unerring moral compass can be inconvenient, Mom,” I noted.

Andy chuckled.

“Though, I, for one, am glad my skin isn’t green,” I finished.

That was when Mom laughed.

“Brownnose,” Li said, picking herself up.

“Girls, set the table. Andy, open some wine. I have potatoes to mash,” Mom bossed.

We all got to it.

Because that was how it worked in our family.





“It looks like Dolly Parton decorated this place. It’s everything. She’s gonna love it,” I remarked as I looked around the she shed that was far from a pile of lumber. It appeared complete.

It was after dinner and Liane was giving me a tour.

Li arranged herself on the wicker sofa that had thick pads in a bright floral, and she did this so she was upside down, legs thrown ever the back, head dangling close to the ground.

“I know, right?” she agreed.

I sat in a wicker chair that was lousy with tassels.

I then offered, “I’ll call him.”

She dug into her pocket and produced a vape.

She offered.

It wasn’t nicotine, it was cannabis.

I still declined.

She puffed.

She then said, “It’s my turn.”

“I—”

“H, you can’t protect me all my life. I’m a grownup. I have an awesome but slacker job. You’re attempting to rule the world. I’ve got more time than you do. I can call our father and arrange for us to sit down and talk.”

The grownup part, considering her attire and position, could be debatable.

But it wasn’t.

Li, like me, knew who she was.

And who she was, was a woman who wanted to work to play. She liked clothes but wasn’t into makeup. She liked to travel, but she preferred camping to saving up for a five-star. Her goal was to fix up one of those snazzy, boho vans, find a man who’d put up with living in it, a dog and a cat who got along, and then go out to explore the world, stopping to make money when they needed it.

It wasn’t my thing, but I hoped she got what she wanted.

“Any plans I should know about?” she asked after the scheduling.

“Not Saturday morning. I’m having coffee with Bryan.”

She whipped around to sitting. “You are?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“He thinks we can work through it. Me breaking up came as a total surprise to him. It maybe shouldn’t have, but it did. Now, he’s had time to let it sink in, and I need to show him the respect of sitting down and sharing it’s truly over.”

“Babe, don’t let him talk you into giving him a second chance.”

As if.

Still, I was surprised my sister said that.

“I thought you liked him,” I noted.

Her shoulders went up and down. “He’s likeable. He’s not difficult to look at. And he works real hard to make everyone think he’s a cool dude. Maybe part of that is because he’s a cool dude. Though, I think most of it is because he’s a salesman. I don’t know why he is, but he wants everyone to like him. That’s like…not possible. And it could get kinda cringey.”

I couldn’t say she was wrong.

“That said,” she continued. “The worst part about it was that he wanted so bad for everyone to think he’s a good guy, to fit in everywhere he went, and then, essentially at home, he doesn’t bother paying attention to your needs. I mean, if he loved you and wanted to spend time with you, looking at that as a possible commitment thing, you should be the one he worked hardest to make think he was a good guy. That’s weird. And a total red flag, taking you for granted that way.”

She wasn’t wrong about that either.

But four of her words stuck with me.

Taking you for granted.

My eyes were aimed, unfocused, on the hot pink table with the bright floral arrangement on top that sat in the corner as I thought this through.

“I still liked him, though, H. Because he actually is a good guy. He just wasn’t perfect. No one is,” Liane said.

I focused on her. “I don’t think I want to get married.”

“To Bryan?”

“To anyone.”

A huge grin spread across her face, and she started laughing when she said, “I wonder what Mom’s going to think about this whole take-the-high-road thing with Dad, considering he’s the reason neither of us is gonna go the traditional route with that malarkey.”

“I don’t know if it was Dad,” I replied. “I mean, yeah, it probably was. Part of it. But we also had a long time with her and Andy, and they work.” I considered it and finished, “I think it was Bryan.”

Her expression grew concerned. “Were things worse than what you said?”

Obviously, I shared with my sister.

We were complete opposites, but I told her everything. She returned that.

We’d had a time in our lives where it was essential we bonded. You did that when you had a parent whose love wasn’t quite healthy. Then Mom had to work after we left Dad, and as latchkey kids, Li and I spent a lot of time together.