Page 37 of Apple of My Eye

Colt eyed us.

Ivy said what everyone was probably thinking. “You two are finally fucking, aren’t you?”

“Ivy!” Daisy stared at her, horrified.

“A non-answer is a yes.”

“Definitely yes,” Sage agreed.

Daisy huffed inside and slammed the door.

They said their goodnights to me, with Ivy adding an extra “Good luck with her.” They promised to return by mid-morning and left.

I watched their taillights disappear down the drive and then turned and marched into the house. Daisy came downstairs in a long-sleeved, floor-length, zippered robe in a soft blue quilted material. She twisted her hair up in a bun as she passed me and entered the kitchen.

“You don’t need to stay.” She pulled a pot off the floor and stepped around the mess. She washed and dried itwell. From the fridge, she pulled out a gallon of milk. She set the pot on the burner, poured milk into it, and then reached up for a mug still on the top shelf.

I leaned against the doorway, watching her work, biding my time until she finally faced me. The look on her face was the same one she used on misbehaving horses. And it probably worked on every man she had ever aimed it at.

I arched a brow and did not budge, as stubborn as she can be.

After a long beat, she sighed and turned back to the stove. “Fine. Stay.” She reached up for a second mug.

I took that as a victory.

I began the work of righting the kitchen. Drawers back into their places. Cabinets closed. I swept the broken ceramic bowl carefully into a bag, leaving the money on the counter. At the entryway, I righted the hat rack and draped the coats back over it.

I turned the lock on the front door, and it stuck. Took more tinkering with it until I could get it to close again.

“Don’t bother with that. The lock hasn’t worked for years,” she called from the kitchen.

“And you wonder why you got robbed?”

“We live in the country. It’s an old house. I doubt we’ve locked that door ever. I can’t even recall when it broke.”

This wouldn’t fucking do. How can I keep her safe when her damn door doesn’t even lock? Not that it mattered; if someone wanted inside, they’d break the picture window a few feet away. It’s the security of it that mattered, knowing she could lock her doors at night might make her sleep better. Me, too.

By the time I rigged something with a chair to keep thedoor closed, she’d set two mugs sat on the dining table. She sank into a seat, both hands wrapped around her mug, and stared off into space.

“They knew I was gone. Like—I’m being watched.” She visibly swallowed hard, her body jolting with a shiver.

That had crossed my mind, but I hadn’t wanted her to freak out about it. She had gotten there herself anyway, which was so like her. Smart. Strong. I knew she’d be okay if we could get past this night.

“Dad wrote everything down. And now it’s gone,” she started, and that launched us into rehashing every detail, hypothesizing, discussing things until the milk was drunk, and we ended up as frustrated as we began.

“We may never see them again. Those journals were more than evidence. They were his. His handwriting. His thoughts, all written with his wry sense of humor, were all about us growing up. I thought we’d have them to cherish forever.” Tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and no amount of blinking could stop them. “It’s like I have to grieve the loss of my parents all over again.”

Shit, I felt so bad for her. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. I got out of my seat and went straight to her.

“Come on,” I whispered. She did not argue. I picked her up bridal-style and carried her upstairs. By the time we arrived at her bedroom, she’d soaked my shirt. I had to navigate the obstacle course of her room to set her there by her bed. Together, we remade it, tucking the sheets and quilt back in place, and found her pillows. Then she climbed in.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked.

“Where are you going?” Shesniffled.

“I’ll keep watch in the truck for a while. When I get tired, I’ll move inside to the couch.”

“Oh. The couch. Okay.” She waited until I was almost out the door. “Knox. Thank you.”