Page 124 of Best Served Cold

He told her he knew very well what happened to people who accepted free ice cream from strangers, so clearly he hasn’t warmed to the Sophie Ginnis charm, but there’s no denying the effort was adorable.

It’s hard to forget what Travis said on Sunday, though. I can still feel that storm on the horizon. I try to tell myself it’s just nerves over our impending meeting with Nelly, but it feels bigger than that.

On Tuesday night, my dad texts to say he needs to discuss something with me.Urgently. I write back to say we can hash it out over Thanksgiving dinner.

He responds by telling me it’s time for me to stop being a smart-ass and rely on people who are more seasoned thanme and have my best interests at heart to make the important decisions, and I tell him I’m done talking to him for now. Because he’s clearly trying to rip Sophie and me apart, and I won’t allow that. Not even the effort. It feels good when I add his number to my block list.

But I’m still on edge.

My dad knows something, or thinks he does. Maybe he’s going to do something about it, too, like when he had my mother’s custody of me revoked for “your own good.”

I go to see the Wise Women Group on Wednesday morning and share my fears with my elderly friends.

Constance pats my arm. “You did good cutting the cord. My ex-husband was an ornery old coot who thought he knew what was best for everyone. Wish I’d gotten rid of him twenty years earlier. I’d have saved myself a world of trouble.”

“We won’t let them hurt your dear girl,” Dottie says staunchly, as if she could stop an army with a mere look. “We’re on your side.”

“We are indeed,” Ann says, beaming. Then she rifles through her purse and hands me a couple of scratchers, patting my hand. Some older women carry hard candies; Ann carries scratchers. “No one messes with our grandchildren.”

“Quite right,” Constance says firmly.

I’ll be damned if my throat doesn’t tighten over these three older women claiming me as theirs. I have an awful lot more to protect than I used to, more than enough to make up for the things I’ve supposedly lost.

“Thanks, Ann. If I win big, I’ll buy you some fake tats.”

“Convince your friends to wear wet shirts for her,” Constance says, setting today’s crocheting project aside. “That’s what Ann really wants.”

I leave feeling better, but the sense of impending doom doesn’t disperse. It hangs around me all day like smoke. So I’mnot surprised when I come home from the Beat and find an oversized box of matches on my stoop.

There’s no note, but the meaning’s so obvious, I feel like a fucking idiot for not seeing it coming. Sophie did something horrible unintentionally, and someone—my brother or maybe my father—knows. They’re pointing out, ever so unsubtly, that it’s not going to look so good if Nelly and the others reviewing my file find out. They’ll think I’m an alcoholic with an alleged sex addiction, and my girlfriend is an arsonist.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I go inside, swallow down the urge to punch the dry wall, and pace until my heart rate slows. Then I unblock and call Jonah, my number one suspect.

“You got my message?” he says, his voice smarmy and so fucking satisfied with himself.

“You talk in code now? How adventurous of you.”

“Sophie pulled me in too,” he says. “I was totally fooled. I had no idea she was a pyro, but Dad hired a private investigator to look into her past. We were all concerned about you.”

“Bullshit,” I say, squeezing the phone. “You wanted to mess with me, just like you did when you had your girlfriend call the foster agency.”

“Not everything’s about you, Rob. Mom and I have valid concerns about you being a foster parent. We were doing our civic duty.”

So it was Patricia, not his girlfriend. Sophie and her friends will be happy to hear that, at least.

“Yup, you’re such an Eagle Scout. Well, you’ll have to use your compass to find your own asshole if you go anywhere near my girlfriend again. Leave her alone. Same goes for Dad. From what I hear, you’ve managed to convince one of your othergirlfriends to give you another shot. Let it go. Be satisfied with what you’ve got.”

But I know he won’t. Maybe he can’t be satisfied. Even if he doesn’t want Sophie anymore, he can’t stand for her to be happy with someone else, especially me.

“Sorry. I can’t knowingly put you or that kid in danger. If you don’t break up with her, I’m going to have to make another call and tell them everything I know.”

“What’s your deal with me?” I ask, because I’ve never really understood. There are plenty of reasons formeto resenthim, beyond his shitty personality, but why does he resent me? Our father left my mother for his, and Dad’s always shown a strong preference for his son with the “right” Patricia. The kid who went to college, got a job in middle management, and did things the “correct” way. “Why do you want to mess up my life?”

He laughs. “You think I care about your life, Rob? Please. Not everything’s about you. This is about doing what’s right.”

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