Page 13 of The Chad Next Door
And then Grizz does something that I never would have expected. He crouches down so he’s at her same height. “I did,” he says, speaking with impossible gentleness in his voice. “Is it starting to feel better in here?”
Zelda smiles—smiles!—at him. “Uh huh. Was it hard to turn it on?”
“Nope. And I showed your mom how to do it.”
“She’s not my mom. My mom is dead.”
I watch as both of them react to that statement. Grizz stiffens, shoulders going tense and his hands curling into balls where he holds them in his lap. Zelda droops, her face going slack as if for a moment she’d forgotten that her mom is gone and she’s stuck with an incompetent aunt who’s trying her best but absolutely failing.
Tears pool in my eyes as I stand there frozen, wishing I had a way to change reality so Zelda would never have to say those words.
Grizz, on the other hand, reaches up and brushes a tear from Zelda’s cheek with a big finger. “My mom is dead too,” he says, and then he stands up and walks out of the house without looking back.
Well crap. Now it’s going to be so much harder to dislike him.
Chapter Seven
Chad
I only make it acouple of hours before I see Hope again, which isn’t nearly long enough. After a phone call with Micah that left me feeling more frustrated than I’d like, I’ve been sitting on my porch watching the sunset fade to dusk and trying to reconcile what I thought I knew with the new information that has come in. If Hope isn’t the mother of the kids, what is she? She looks similar enough that I’m guessing she’s family. Probably too old to be a sister, though it’s not impossible. Aunt is the most likely explanation. But why would she be the person taking care of the kids if they’ve lost their mom? She’s so young, and on her own, and I don’t especially want to think there isn’t anyone else in the family who could have taken the kids because that would make them so alone.
I know how that feels. I wouldn’t want that for them.
How long has Hope had the kids? Did they move because she got them? Is she going to have them forever, or is this a temporary situation? Does she have any help at all? Single parenting is difficult no matter what, but when you aren’t prepared for it?
I forced myself to leave my phone inside so I’m not tempted to see what I can dig up, but my resolve is slipping. If I know the situation, I’ll know if she even needs my help. She might be perfectly fine, and that’s why she’s getting so irritated with me stepping in. But she also might be drowning and too stubborn to cry out for help. I told Micah that I wasn’t going to pay any attention to my neighbor, but maybe if I can just get a little more information, I’ll scratch the itch enough to leave things alone.
I’m halfway out of my seat when Hope appears next door, stepping out the back door and into her sorry excuse for a backyard. Being right at the edge of the open forest here doesn’t exactly lend itself to having a manicured lawn, but she doesn’t even have a patio or a deck. It’s not very kid-friendly, something she may not have thought of when she bought the house. Houses closer to town are a little more suburban, but she didn’t pick one of those. She picked this one, so she’s going to have to get used to the kids driving her crazy inside or running around the woods.
I shudder. Maybe I should suggest they borrow Duke if they ever decide to do that. I don’t want to know what would happen if he came across a mountain lion, but I would rather he take the fall than the kids.
Duke lifts his head with a whine, as if he can read my thoughts.
I scratch his ears. “Don’t worry. I doubt she would accept your help any more readily than she accepted mine.”
But now he’s seen her, and his tail starts thumping as he watches her wrap a blanket around her shoulders and pick her way through the stick-strewn area to a worn and warped bench that sits at the edge of her property.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I mutter, “Go get her.”
Duke gladly hops up and scurries over to her, startling her until she realizes it’s not a woodland creature creeping up on her. A smile lights up her face as she reaches out and pets his head, and she laughs when his tail wags so hard that his entire rear end is wagging with it. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know I’m out here or she wouldn’t be showing my dog this much affection, but I’m not going to change that fact. Not yet. I’m going to use this moment to watch her before it gets too dark, and then I’m going to go inside and pretend I don’t have internet access so I can’t research everything about this woman.
I should turn my internet off entirely until the itch goes away, but I worry that won’t happen anytime soon. Every time I see her, I’m going to want to know more.
Hope is undeniably pretty. She has a girl-next-door vibe—I’m ignoring that irony—the kind of beauty that is natural and easy. So far, she’s worn her dark hair long and free. It has a little wave to it that gives it some life, and I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. Her heart-shaped face is young and full of life, with all the signs of her being quick to smile. I think her eyes fascinate me the most, if I’m giving myself this moment to catalog everything about her. They’re a rich brown, warm and soft and bottomless. Even when she’s glared at me, I’ve felt her gaze deep in my bones, like she’s lived a thousand lives in her short lifetime.
There’s a story in those eyes, one I wouldn’t mind knowing.
I curse under my breath and shake that thought away before it latches on. I came to Laketown to simplify my life, and that means staying away from something as endlessly complicated as Hope and her little family.
I’m safer without her around, both physically and emotionally.
“Has anyone ever told you your dog is perfect?”
I swear again, this time a little louder, and then cringe when I realize she’s standing just a few feet from my deck and looking up at me. “Sorry,” I say and make a note to be better about my language, especially when the kids are around. I should be better in general—my mom hated swearing, and now Brooklyn does too. “Uh, yeah, he’s a good dog.”
I can’t decide if I should be glad or mad that he brought Hope over here, but he looks a little too pleased with himself as he grins at her side, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
Hope rolls her eyes. “Good dogapplies to basically every dog. Even the bad ones. Duke is, well, perfect. I mean, he doesn’t evensmelllike a dog!”
