“Aren’t you even going to look at me?” Paige asks with a hoarse voice, on the verge of tears. “August,” she implores, not able to hold back the tears that well in her eyes and slip over, running down her cheeks.
He places the knife on the counter and faces her, then shakes his head before he goes back to cutting.
“August,” I chastise.
Paige starts sobbing and gets up, excusing herself before she walks away.
“That girl is clearly upset.” He clenches his jaw at my words but doesn’t answer me. “Fine then.” I stand and follow Paige, where she has closed herself off in the bathroom. Knocking, I ask, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is low.
When I open the door, she’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub, covering her face.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure everything will be all right.” I pat her back, leaning in.
“No, it won’t. I knew he would get mad, but I did it anyway.”
“Did what?”
Paige lifts her head, and I see the exact same forest-green eyes as August’s staring back at me.
“I went and saw her, and when I did, well… she’s a drunk, and I guess like mother, like daughter—,” she drifts off, wiping at her tears.
“You got drunk with your mom?” I ask, trying to figure it all out in my mind.
“Yes. August hates her. But she’s our mother. How can he hate her so much when all she talks about is him?”
“Because she’s using that to get to you. Has she asked you yet to start selling? Maybe your body?” August asks, standing in the doorway.
I gape at him, shocked, unable to speak.
“She would never.”
“That there… those few words prove to me you don’t know who she is. Stay away from them, Paige. I mean it. They’re nothing but trouble.”
“She loves us.”
“No, she doesn’t. She loves the idea of using us. That’s all that woman will ever care about,” he says, then steps inside the small space. “Food is ready.”
I nod, getting the message. As I pass by August on my way out, my arm brushes across his.
“You’re all she ever talks about,” Paige says to August as I walk out the door slowly, trying to listen in to the conversation that I know will now ensue.
“She stopped worrying about if I was bathed or not when I was six. She stopped feeding me when I was ten. She never once visited me in prison. No letter. No nothing. Tell me, Paige, does that sound like all the hallmarks of a doting mother?”
“You sound like Dad,” she spits.
“Listen to him. Because…” he pauses for a few seconds then continues, “… he’s right.”
Wanting to give them some privacy, I go and sit on the front porch. It’s then I realize I’m sitting on a wooden chair. The wood, although old in texture, looks brand-new and is sanded to perfection, then stained with something to keep the texture. The legs of the chair are shaped like wooden wheels that sit on a sled-styled bottom. There are two of them with a table in a similar pattern sitting between them.
The chair is unique, stunning, and I love it. The arms seem to have an ornate pattern engraved into the surface, and I can’t help but rub my hands back and forward over the surface of the polished wood.
“I’m sure the chair is enjoying the rubbing you’re giving it.” My hand pauses on the surface of the wood.
“Did you make it?”
August crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles stand out even more.
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t you be covered in tattoos?”
“Why? Because I’ve been away in prison? Is that why you think I should be covered in ink?” He laughs as Paige finally walks out, her tears now dried. “Come on, rich girl, the food is ready,” he says, nodding back to the house.
I can’t help but take another look at the chairs.
“August is gifted,” Paige says, smiling now. She’s obviously proud of her brother’s talent. “What’s going on with you two?”
My phone starts ringing, and I see Anderson’s name flash on the screen. Pressing ignore, I give my attention back to Paige. “Nothing.” I stand and pull my keys from my pocket with a smile. “Tell August I said bye. Sorry, I have to go.”
She nods and says nothing more as I get in my car to leave.
August walks outside, glancing over at me in the car. My hands freeze on the wheel, but I manage to drive off, even if my head is screaming at me to go back to him.
Pulling over because I’m starving, I stop to grab some food before I go home and sleep for the rest of the day before dinner with Rhi. As I grab a drink, a woman steps in front of me, blocking my view. I attempt to step around her, and it’s then I can tell it’s the same woman from that night at the party with Anderson. My eyes fall to her belly, which is round. It’s not overly large, but it is more than obvious she is pregnant.