Page 10 of Almost Always

“What the hell?”

Leaning against her kitchen counter as she sipped on her water, Daisy realized that she’d slept through most of the day before. And what was supposed to be a quick snooze on the couch turned into a full-blown sleep. Once she was steady on her feet, she climbed up to the loft and checked her phone. Eden had texted to check in and let her know they had everything under control in the shop that day as well.Might as well make the most of my day off.After going through the rest of her messages, she stripped out of her clothes and had a shower.

With her sunhat and gloves on, she walked through her garden to check on her plants. She’d been briefly introduced to flowers in New York, but it was only once she got to Greenville that she learned the magic of plants. Magnolia, her grandaunt, taught her how to nurture and love a plant as it grew. Since then, she’d fallen in love with digging in the soil, planting seeds and watching everything bloom.

With her audiobook playing through the Bluetooth speakers in her greenhouse, she repotted orchids, having finally bought the perfect sized pots for them. Then checked on the succulents that seemed to not thrive at the shop but did well under her care. While she didn’t cook a lot, Daisy was growing tomatoes and zucchini along with some carrots and broccoli. Last year, she’d added peaches and strawberries to her growing space. She even had a small section dedicated to herbs. Her greenhouse wasn’t very big, but it was filled with colors and scents that comforted her. Even with her nose being sensitive to fragrances soon after a migraine, she found it soothing.

Working with plants always made her lose track of time, but it was one of the most calming things to do. Especially when she was coming down from something that had shaken her up. After watering her plants, she went back into her house to wash up. Changing out of her baggy gardening attire, she pulled her hair back in a messy fishtail braid and climbed into her truck. The drive took her all of twenty minutes and she was lucky to find a spot not too far from her destination. She slipped on her oversized denim jacket and tucked the mustard cap over her hair.

The minute she stepped into One Fell Scoop, Daisy wanted to leave. There were so many people and the overstimulation made her fingers twitch. Except she was craving ice cream and could already smell the waffle cones. Popping in her AirPods, she joined the line to place her order. If it was any other day, she would have been okay with the number of people. But coming off a killer migraine, this was a lot. Flipping the collar of her jacket up, she burrowed into it as her audiobook played, picking up where she’d left off while she was working. The firefighter was seducing the single dad again, tempting him with everything that she had to offer and he was absolutely falling for it.

Smiling to herself at the flirting between the characters, she surveyed the people around her. The group of teenagers ahead were sampling everything, laughing and having the best time. She was envious of their freedom because she never had that relationship with food at their age, always measuring and overthinking everything she ate.

Even though she’d been so young, she could remember the way her mother and maternal grandparents berated her about what she ate. The first six years of her life were spent being told that she was too dark, too ugly, too chubby and would stay that way if she didn’t do something about it. It was only later, after her father brought her to New York, that Daisy understood food was meant to be enjoyed.

For a while, she inhaled everything that was set in front of her. Nonna Ames, Rafferty’s grandmother, was the warmest person she’d ever met and also made the best food. She loved eating with the Ames family and enjoyed learning about different cuisines. Until the kids at school started making fun of her. It was similar to the words her mother used to say and it struck a chord.

She started to ration her food. She pretended to eat everything on her plate, but actually found ways to move things around to look like she’d had her fill. She joined the track team, believing that if she ran every single day, it would keep the weight down. She set a goal and did everything possible to reach that and maintain it.

Including standing on the weighing scale in her father’s bedroom as she nibbled.

That’s when Rafferty caught her.

There was no logic to why she’d done that, but in her mind it was the best way to know how much she was consuming. To her young and hurt soul, it made sense. Especially when every bitewas accompanied by a familiar sound of disgust that echoed in her head.

It had beenyearssince that incident and even now, she cringed thinking about that day. She no longer divided her food and didn’t overthink what she was eating, but there were often fleeting thoughts about whether or not she was ‘good enough’. Her body had changed drastically over the years and she was finally happy with the way she looked. However, she had one full-length mirror in her house, not entirely trusting her thoughts to be positive when she stood in front of it every day. Thanks to all the work she did at the shop and in her garden, as well as pole dancing classes with Monroe, she’d built up muscles.

While she wasn’t that chubby unhappy kid anymore, the unease about her body still lingered.

It took time and patience, but she loved herself and thanked her body every single day.

The line moving forward brought her back to the present and she peered into the display to see if she wanted to try something new. There were always interesting flavors added to their menu and while they tasted nice, she never deviated from her usual order.

When it was her turn, she smiled at the bored teenager behind the counter and pointed at the flavors, “Could I try the Butter Pecan and Blueberry Cheesecake, please?”

With an all-suffering sigh, they swiped tiny spoons through her choices and handed them over. She stepped to the side so the next person could place their order while she sampled the flavors. Pecan was her favorite kind of pie, so that was always a safe bet. And it was definitely impossible to mess up blueberry cheesecake flavored anything. She didn’t even care that she moaned, joining in the sounds on her audiobook.

Hold on a minute…

Her eyes popped open to find everyone staring at her.

“The sound of her moaning spurred me on as I lapped at her wet cunt, tongue and fingers working in unison to push her over the edge. ‘That’s right, baby, come for me. Mess up my face, flood my tongue,’ I growled, eyes fixed on her?—”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she gasped and fumbled as she pulled the phone out of her back pocket and hit pause. Her face was hot and stomach churned at the knowledge thateveryone—little kids, teenagers, and adults—had heard that. Swallowing hard, she tugged her cap lower and pointed at the PB & J. “Can I have two scoops of that in a cup, thank you.”

Stepping around the counter, she hid in a small dark space and kept her head down. With her audiobook closed and her phone buried in the depths of her bag, Daisy tried to make herself small.Of course this would happen tometoday, of all days. Shaking her head, she breathed slowly and closed her eyes. This was the kind of nightmare that all audiobook listeners had, and she wasn’t even a little surprised that it happened to her.

CHAPTER 4

THEN, 1993

Low voices interspersed with regular traffic woke him up. It took him a minute to understand what was happening, especially since it was so dark in the room. He quietly climbed out of bed, aware of where all the creaky floorboards were. His grandparents had owned this brownstone for years and it was so old that if you weren’t careful, you stepped on all the noisy sections. Since he and his father moved in a year ago, Rafferty had learned how to sneak around.

He tip-toed out of his bedroom and down the hallway to the stairs where the voices got clearer, then sat down and hugged his knees to his chest. Rafferty stared at the brightly lit main room, trying to identify the feet he could see. Seated on the couch, Nonna was wearing her purple house slippers and Poppy was beside her in his moccasins. The two singles were also occupied, one had someone in faded blue jeans with dirt clinging to the hem and the other had to be his father with the plaid pajama pants and socks.

“You’re sure she’s okay?” Nonna asked, worry clear in her voice.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t cried even once, just staring at me with those big eyes,” the stranger said.

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