Page 43 of Wild Card

Decker just smiled and kept moving forward, pulling the screen door open and holding it for me.

“I’m glad you agreed to take a break from being Nancy Drew for a bit.” Decker smiled at me as I passed by him into the foyer of his childhood home…at least, I was assuming this was his childhood home. The way he looked at it with such reluctance and affection, it seemed there were memories here that were precious to him.

“Yeah, me too. I’d like to help you, if you want, or I could just hang out. I think a mental break would be good for me though.”

The small entryway was barely a square of linoleum with a braided rug thrown down. A pair of soft blue shoes were neatly sitting by the door, and that was it. No jackets or other shoes, no coat rack. A foot off to the side looked like the start of a staircase covered in worn, brown carpet.

It smelled like old leather, vanilla, and…hairspray.

“Come on, I want you to meet my—”

“D! I didn’t think you’d be here this weekend. Can you give me a ride to the country club?” a tall, younger version of Decker came jogging down the stairs. He was the kid in the framed photo I saw in Decker’s apartment. His eyes lit up when he saw me standing there, a smile erupting on his face as he closed the distance between his perch on the stairs and the last step.

“Kyle, this is Mallory. Mallory, this is Kyle, my younger brother.”

“Hey.” Kyle ran his hand over his head, giving me a sexy smirk.

Oh gosh. This kid was cute.

Sixteen-year-old me was totally screaming inside at how adorable he was being.

“Is this the one…you know, the one you mentioned?” Kyle asked, and I tried not to spin toward Decker to see his expression. The strangled coughing sound from the chest at my back told me enough.

“Why do you need to go to the club?” Decker changed the subject and moved us farther into the house. His hand landed on my hip, pushing me forward.

There was an older blue couch that framed the room and two recliners facing the flat screen along the adjacent wall. It was comfortable; it felt like a home, and all I wanted to do was curl up under one of the throw blankets and take a nap.

“It’s this thing…complicated, but there’s a lot of money to be made. Just trust me.” Kyle pleaded with Decker while the two went into the kitchen. There was a counter separating the space from the dining room, a small island in the middle, and a big bright window that faced the backyard. I instantly loved it.

Walking toward the large glass doors along the back wall, I saw the yard, and my mouth gaped. Directly outside the French doors was a paved patio with hanging lights that draped over a small table and four chairs. Beyond that was rich green grass, running for what seemed like half a mile. It butted up against a stone retaining wall. To the side was a patch of gravel in the shape of a circle with a charcoal pit in the center, low Adirondack chairs littered around the white rocks, a few with throw blankets on them. An old swing set sat forgotten along the back side of the house, along with a few other old toys. I could see a few bats, a few baseballs, and even a few weather-worn gloves.

“Geez,” I murmured, my breath fogging up the window.

The boys in the kitchen went silent.

Suddenly there was a throat clearing behind me, a warm presence at my back. “Our dad had a landscaping business…before…” He cleared his throat again like he was trying to force the words out.

A bone-deep awareness skittered down my spine. It was like a third eye blinking open and being able to see what my natural eyes could not: the silent but gaping wound of grief. Decker was bleeding out from it. His dad was gone, like my mom was…like my dad now was.

On instinct, I reached back, grabbed his hand like he’d done with me in the truck, and squeezed. He didn’t need to say it out loud. Sometimes confessing that a parent is gone is like admitting that one is alone. It was just easier not to say it out loud, not to give words to that piece of us that was now missing and that we’d never get back.

Decker squeezed back, and then he tugged me until I left the window, the sight of his father’s legacy behind and turned back toward the living room. There, a frail woman had materialized. She had light brown hair with a wisp of grey, and her pale face was beautiful, her green eyes even lighter than Decker’s, about the same shade as her younger son’s.

“Hello.” The woman smiled at me, and her eyes bounced over to her son, who was standing next to me…and who was still holding my hand. I let him go and stepped forward.

“Hi, I’m Mallory.” I held out my hand for her to shake.

She hadn’t stopped looking at her son, and whatever she saw there had her stepping closer, bypassing my hand, and pulling me into a tight hug. I froze for a fraction of a second, my mind a battle zone of anxiety and panic…but then, her warmth settled into me and I melted. Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I inhaled her sweet smell, matching it to what I’d encountered when I first stepped into the house.

“I’m Penny. Welcome to our home.”

I hadn’t been hugged by a mother-like figure in…

Come here, butternut…come give me a hug.

I pushed the memory of the last time my mother hugged me down as far as I could and cleared my throat, just like Decker had done.

“Thank you.” I pulled away. I had to. She was warm and loving, nothing at all like my cold stepmother.

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