Page 40 of Filthy Twisted Devil

No, she was not.

Luke

Yes, she was! Look her up. She’s a fox.

Now quick, do I want venison, bison, or kangaroo meat for my burger?

Eden

Kangaroo???

Luke

I didn’t pick the restaurant.

Eden

I’d get the side salad.

Luke

This is why I need you.

Itry not to smile too much at that. Luke has been texting me more and more over the past few weeks, not about anything in particular. Just little things—a news story about llamas escaping from another Alberta ranch, a question about my day, or a picture of the newest Twisted Devil label. Sometimes it's obvious what made him think of me. Other times, I wonder if he's just looking for an excuse.

All I know is whenever I see his name on my phone, it feels like butterflies fill my chest.

It’s not a good sign.

I push my phone aside and turn back to the seating charts on the kitchen table in front of me. Flair Events is hosting a big cancer research fundraiser next month, and they handed me a list of guests complete with notes about who’s friends with who, who everyone’s ex is, and who hates each other. When it comes to gossip, the Toronto Tea has nothing on event planners.

I love complicated seating charts. They're like puzzles, each guest a piece that I have to make fit into the bigger picture. Even the ones that seem impossible have a solution if I try hard enough.

Apparently, except for this one. After an hour of rearranging people, I still can't figure out where to put the CEO with three ex-wives also in attendance. I eagerly grab my phone when it lights up, secretly hoping for a text from Luke. Instead, it’s a call from Wade.

“Hey, Edie,” he says when I pick up. “Nice to see you actually answer our calls for once.”

“I'm busy, Wade. Just because our schedules don’t line up doesn't mean I'm avoiding you.”

“Yeah, right. When are you coming home?” he demands, as if I haven’t already sent him my full itinerary over both text and email.

“I’ll be back on Christmas Eve, exactly like it says on the calendar invite.”

“Don’t blame me, blame Mom. She thinks if I keep asking you, you’ll come back earlier. You know how much she misses you.”

“Wow, way to aim that guilt trip at me like a sniper.”

Wade lets out a long breath. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just⁠—”

“I know. I get it. You’re just trying to give her what she wants.”

All four Locke children share that trait—doing whatever we can to make Mom happy, even if we have to lie, cheat, steal, guilt trip, and manipulate to make it happen. She never encouraged it. In fact, if she knew Wade was using her to guilt me into moving up my plane ticket, she’d lecture him until she was blue in the face.

It’s just, when your mom’s sick, when you know that just getting through the day means gritting her teeth around the pain, you’ll do anything to make her smile, just for a moment.

“Look, tell Mom my ticket’s nonrefundable, so I can’t come any earlier. I did clear my work schedule until New Year’s Day, so I’ll have the whole week to spend with her.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. We might need a little help on the ranch, though. Horses don’t take holidays.”