“I don’t.”
He stopped, nodding tightly and taking a step back. “At least take my number. Maybe if you—”
“I’m okay, Giovanni. Really. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t bear his fake sentiment nor did she want to consider that it might be sincere. “I hope you…”
What? What did she hope?
He watched her expectantly.
“Good luck with your comedy career.”
“Right.” He didn’t smile as he turned away. And she hated how much it hurt watching him drive off.
Harrison waited inside the car, seats warmed and the scent of luxury leather filling the space. “I’m leaving tonight.”
Her stare shot to him. “What?”
He put the car into drive and navigated over the plowed roads. “The coroner will get you the death certificates and then you can close out all his accounts. I don’t care what the will says. Do whatever you want with the house and the store.”
“You can’t put all this on me, Harrison. I need your help.”
“I can’t stay here,” he snapped. “This town, these people… I don’t belong here anymore.”
“Why is it always about you? What about me?” He was leaving and it felt just as bad as it had years ago when he abandoned her. “Do you think I want to deal with any of this shit?”
“Then don’t. Sell the house as-is and start your fucking life, Erin. He’s not your excuse anymore.”
“Fuck you!” she yelled, glaring out the window as they drove down Main Street.
Cars filled the lot at O’Malley’s, many of them familiar from the cemetery. She didn’t plan a luncheon afterward because the church had cost six hundred dollars and that was all she could afford. Harrison had kept his word and paid for the embalming, casket, and grave, but he refused to spend a single cent on flowers or any of the other usual stuff funerals included.
Maybe this whole thing was just another attempt to appear normal in front of others. She hated keeping up the act, but she couldn’t stand the chaos that hid below.
They didn’t speak until they reached the house. As expected, Harrison wouldn’t come inside.
“He’s dead, Erin. Take whatever he had left and use it to start your life. He at least owes you that.”
She held the car door and stared through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. “He is dead,” she agreed, “at least for me.”
Her brother frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re the one who can’t face this.”
“Oh, bullshit—”
“You can’t even walk in the house, Harrison! You accuse me of making excuses, but I stayed. I took it. I faced what you didn’t have the balls to face.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” he snarled, but she continued to hold the car door open.
“You left me here and you never looked back. I was fifteen. You knew it would get worse for me with you gone, and you didn’t care.” Her jaw shook and tears trembled from her eyes, spilling down her chilled cheeks. “I’m not surprised that you’re leaving again, leaving me to deal with the crap you can’t handle. But don’t you dare accuse me of being some willing victim of abuse. I fought back the best I could. I tried to fix it instead of running away.”
“And like I told you before, you can’t fix nasty when it’s sewn into someone’s soul.”
Was she like her father? Was she just a hopeless, nasty soul?
“Well, Harrison, I guess you win then.”
With that, she slammed the door and went into the house, feeling as if she’d lost her entire life trying to fix the unfixable and gaining nothing but inheriting some of her father’s awful traits in return.
The house was silent and still. She hung up her coat and stood in the center of the living room, staring at his empty chair. Looking for something, but nothing was there.
Moving to the hall, she stilled, staring at her bedroom door then his. She pivoted and stood in the kitchen. The silence was deafening.
Her heels clicked over the linoleum as she crossed the room and picked up the stale cake, still sitting on the stove uncovered from days before. She screamed and hurled the dish at the far wall. The heavy glass cracked in half and the cake fell onto the floor, landing in a spongy mess on the kitchen floor.
The doorbell rang and she stilled, silencing her panting as she glanced out the window. A pearl white SUV parked out front, but she didn’t recognize it.
Leaving the mess on the floor, she went to answer the door, only seeing a small figure through the curtain covering the glass. Opening the door, she found a woman holding a basket, her face hidden by the fuzz of her hat as she looked down.
“Can I help you?”
“Hello, Erin.”
Erin took a step back as the woman looked up. “Skylar? What are you doing here?”