Page 117 of Restless
“When was the last time you read a fairytale? Or Mother Goose?”
“Mother Goose took me into her book last night after I finished writing what Daddy made me write. We talked a long time, then we said my favorite prayer.”
“You have a book with Mother Goose?”
She nodded.
Wishing he knew what to do, he bent and kissed her cheek, then tipped her chin up. “I will text you when I’m on my way. In the meantime, I’ll order enough food for you, your mom, and motherfucker. Eat. Understand?”
She frowned. “Do you mean Daddy? Are you being mean to him?”
Not the way he wanted to be. “No, Molly. He fucks your mother.Motherfucker.”
Accepting his fucked up answer, she beamed a smile at him. “I always wondered what that meant. The mice never told me after I stopped being a pumpkin.”
More gibberish he couldn’t understand and wouldn’t try to. Molly needed extensive therapy due to trauma or extensive rehabilitation due to psychedelics or both. If Aunt Bailey didn’t hate him, he’d call her for help.
“See you tomorrow, Mo.”
“Bye, CJ,” she said softly.
Chapter Twenty
Pink nauseated Mattie. Once, it was her favorite color, until her father decided she was a girl who needed shielding from the world and pink was the requisite color to achieve his brainwashing.
Fine.
Good.
Whatever.
Many times, Mattie feared her father’s wrath. She went out of her way to act perfect and demure. He’d never beat her. Yet, his words could be inordinately harsh. For most of her life, he’d treated her like a fragile doll, leaving her unable to show her true self.
Over the past year, though, he’d been even more severe toward her. Rebel and Harley hadn’t been able to ask Daddy’s criticism. He’d used their behavior to further limit Mattie’s activities.
She’d been hurt, resentful, and scared. It crushed her to realize how little value he placed on Mattie’s friendship with her cousins. His unyielding position embittered her and the thought of losing Rebel and Harley as her confidantes frightened her.
Mattie believed the past months were the worst of her life.
Absolutely nothing compared to her father walking out and her mother falling to pieces, however.
She blinked away her tears, fixated on the pink ceiling in her room. At least, the molding was white like her bedroom set and desk. Everything else—walls, carpeting, curtains, comforter, desk chair, and the padded bench at the foot of her bed—was pink.
Pink because girls who were fragile and perfect loved that color.
Swiping at a tear, she drew in a deep breath and touched the bridge of her nose. She still sported a bruise from the headbutt she gave Bash. Not that anyone noticed.
They were all paralyzed with fear.
Her door opened; she didn’t lift her head.
“Mat?” Blade called.
She turned to her side and drew her knees to her chest. Her youngest brother ran to her bed and climbed on. Smiling, she lifted her arm and straightened, allowing him to snuggle close to her. She kissed his cheek.
At almost three, he had the same red hair as Mattie and their mother, but their father’s gray eyes. Rory and JJ were the blonds, though Rory also had Daddy’s eye color, while JJ’s was brown.
“Hungry, Mat.”
