Page 14 of Hooked

The day of my party if everything goes as planned. And it’d better.

“Hopefully we won’t get any more storms between now and then,” he says.

Between now and then? It’s three days from now. What is wrong with him? Does he not want my family to make it out? I thought Kieran was his friend.

“Looks clear so far.” My reply is as chipper as possible.

If he doesn’t want to observe the social contract and make polite conversation, then there’s no reason why I have to either. I turn back to my boxes and pull a pile of bubble wrap out.

There are dozens of ornaments in the box. Beautiful glass ornaments hand painted by my Aunt Kathleen, the mother of my Doyle cousins. That’s what happened to the rest of these, stored away on Martha’s Vineyard to be discovered on this wintry afternoon. Along with these, she’d painted special ones for all of the kids in the family.

I have the one she painted for Drew. It had been in my sainted tote bag. It’s why my lizard brain refused to let it go. I thought maybe my uncle would want it, eventually. Not that the ice prince Vinny would understand that level of sentimentality. One ornament catches the light when I hold it up. It’s so big that I need to cradle it with two hands. My aunt had painted a series of glittery snowflakes. My ornament, which I’d left at home, has my name, the year I was born, and an angel.

Unpacking a few more, I hold each new design up to the light.

The amount of care that went into creating these is astonishing, and it’s a shame they’ve been wasting away in a bubble wrap prison in a dark basement.

“They deserve light,” I say to myself.

I forget Vinny is there until I hear him chuckle.

I’m sure he wouldn’t agree. Why have anything beautiful when you can have a smug sense of superiority instead.

“My aunt made these,” I snap.

“She was really talented,” he replies.

I’m surprised to hear him say it, and my defenses fall slightly.

“Making things with your hands that people can use is a great use of talent,” he continues. “And more meaningful than just buying things.”

Okay, maybe I was too quick to let those defenses fall.

He has no idea what my talents are, or what I do with them. But why bother being curious when you can be a self-righteous dick.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, putting the ornament I’m holding down.

His expression goes cold. “Whatever you think it does.”

“A gentleman and a philosopher. Can I help you with something? Is there an actual purpose to your being here, I mean beyond dropping your handcrafted pearls of wisdom?”

“No purpose. Have fun with your stuff.”

And with that, he’s out the door.

7

Vinny

WhathadI been doing there?

I’d finished as much as I could on my roof when Kristi and Sia arrived. That pairing surprised me. Kristi is as no-nonsense as you get, and Sia? All nonsense.

But damn. When she’d exited Kristi’s little shitbox car, I’d been taken aback at how elegant she managed to make it look just by standing next to it. I’d been grateful that her new jacket was fitted and stopped at the waist because her ass looks amazing in those tight black pants.

Maybe clothes don’t have to be purely functional.

Watching her scurry away with her numerous purchases was amusing. Our earlier conversation obviously hit a nerve.

---