Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(80)

Wait for Mom to die? Wait for another phone call or surprise heart attack? If I didn’t go back, would they call me for the next family funeral? Or would I become the next Xavier?

At least he had a wife.

Why should I stay in Lark Cove when I had no one but my uncle?

It might take me a while to find a job, but eventually something would come up. I’d travel back and forth to manage my properties for as long as it made sense. Maybe I’d sell them off one by one if the market didn’t tank.

I’d have to find someone else to deliver Arthur’s junk food every week.

After finishing one wall of shelves, I went to the other and got started dusting those. I worked fast, hoping I’d have time to do a deep clean of that cupboard where we piled up everything extra. I’d save Thea from doing it for once.

I said good-bye to the Lark Cove Bar as I cleaned. I soaked it all in, knowing it wouldn’t be my refuge for much longer. Here, I’d found an escape. I’d found a job.

I’d found a family.

But it was time I went home to my real family, to the people who shared my blood and name. To the people I’d forsaken in the name of freedom.

Shackles closed around my ankles at the thought of packing my things and leaving my home. Iron cuffs wrapped around my wrists.

But I’d learn to tolerate them. For Dad’s memory, I’d find a way to carry those chains.

The door opened behind me. I put the last few bottles back in place and turned to greet my customer, dust rag in hand. “Morn—Petah?”

“Hi.” She waved and walked across the room, scanning the bar as she came closer.

“What are you doing here?” I tossed down my rag.

“I wanted to check on you. We didn’t get to talk much yesterday.”

Petah had sought me out after the funeral. I’d been standing with Hazel and Xavier at the cemetery. The wind had been blowing hard, biting into our skin, so we hadn’t lingered by Dad’s grave long.

Petah had been one of the few people at the services to acknowledge my uncle. She’d greeted him and Hazel with a smile, which meant more to me than she’d ever know. Then she’d given me her condolences and a hug with tears swimming in her eyes.

“This is a nice place.” Petah pulled out a stool across from me and sat down.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She nodded. “I’ll have a Coke, please.”

“No ice?” Petah had always hated ice in her soda.

“You remember.”

I shrugged. “You’re the only woman in the world who prefers lukewarm soda to cold.”

“I don’t mind cold. I just don’t like ice.”

I filled up a glass for her, foregoing the straw because she didn’t like those either. Then I set it down and walked around the side of the bar.

She kept her seat as I gave her a hug and settled onto the stool at her side.

“How you holding up?” I asked.

“I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay,” I admitted. “No, I’m not.”

Her dark eyes met mine. “Once upon a time, you used to talk to me. You still can.”

“Once upon a time.”

Petah had been the person I’d confided in when I was pissed at someone at school or upset about a test grade or angry about a ref’s call at a basketball game. For normal high school problems, she’d been my confidant.

But I’d never talked to her about the stuff that mattered. I’d never shared my desires to leave the reservation or my need to see the world and break free. She had no clue back then how much I’d felt smothered and trapped, even as a teenager.

For the real problems, the real feelings, I went to Xavier.

And Sofia.

In the days I’d spent with Sofia, I’d told her more about myself, my real self, than Petah had ever known.

Except Sofia wasn’t here, and Petah was.

Would we find our way back to one another when I moved home to the reservation? There was no doubt that Mom would like that. My sisters too.

“Mom wants me to move home.” I waited for a reaction, but she just stared at me. “So I guess I’ll move home.”

“You don’t want that.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I don’t. But everyone else does. And don’t tell me you aren’t in that camp.”

“Would I like to see you more? Yes. I’m not going to lie. Do I wish things had worked out between us? Yes. We both know that. But did you ever think to ask what I wanted? You’re not the only person who wants certain things in life.”

I blinked, taken aback by her sharp tone. Petah had never snapped at me. Not once. “I, uh . . . you’re right. Sorry. What do you want?”

“I want a home and a family. I want my kids to live close to their grandparents. I want to settle down and live a simple life with a husband who also happens to be my best friend. I used to want that with you because you are a good man who has always been kind to me.”

“Used to?”

Her shoulders fell forward. “Once upon a time you were the man of my dreams. I held on to that dream for too long. It’s time to let it go.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”