Blake sighs.
“Language,” he mutters with the air of someone who’s said it a million times.
Andrea just rolls her eyes again, leaning forward and snagging the TV remote.
I snort. “Hey. I’m not gonna dump him for being an ass.” I eye Blake playfully. “Maybe.”
“Haven’t run you off yet, have I?” he returns with a warm, lingering look, his blue eyes mellowing.
“Yet.”
“Ugh,” Andrea groans. “Can you stop being gross? And tell me why you were talking about me?”
Blake hesitates, sobering, then says, “Violet, I need your help.”
Andrea’s eyes widen when she sees it’s not a joke. She goes rigid, darting a sidelong look at her dad. “Who are you, and what pod person replaced my dad?”
“I’m serious, Andrea.” Blake groans. “It’s about your Uncle Holt.”
Her eyes narrow. “You mean the uncle I didn’t know I had and that you’ve been a complete dickwad about?”
“Yep, that’d be him.”
She sniffs. “I had to turn down a ride home from school yesterday in the snow because I knew you’d be ridiculous about it.”
“First I’m hearing of it. You should’ve told me, girl,” he growls, his brow furrowing. “See, this is why I don’t trust him. He does shit behind my back. And I need you to help me catch him at it.”
Andrea’s annoyed expression turns puzzled. “At what? What’s he doing to crawl up your butt so bad?”
“At figuring out if he’s the arsonist who almost burned down the damn Menagerie,” Blake says grimly. “And keeping him from setting more fires.”
“What!” She bolts forward in her chair, leaning in, staring at him wild-eyed. “No way.”
“Way,” Blake throws back.
Her gaze darts to me. “You…you think he did it, too?”
“Well,” I wince, my words stalling.
Oh, boy. I can’t take sides. And honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore.
Right now, I don’t trust my gut with everything so confusing. Not to mention that little wrist apparatus we found at the vet clinic, the same kind I saw Clark practicing with at the carnival grounds…
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I don’t know him very well. Your father does.”
“Yeah, but my father’s a dick who hates everyone in his family,” Andrea slurs, her eyes flashing as she turns a glare on Blake. “You’re joking, right? You can’t actually believe it’s Uncle Holt? You just don’t want me to have anyone in my life but you, huh? First Clark, now my uncle?”
Blake’s face visibly falls, his brows drooping. “That ain’t what it’s about, Andrea. Never was. Believe me. Besides, if it’s your Uncle Holt doing it, then I’ve got no reason to stop you from hanging out with Clark, do I?”
“Awesome. So now I have to choose between them?” Her mouth twists up in an upset line. “That’s so not fair. It’s not fair that both the people you think are doing it are people I want in my life. They’re both innocent.”
Blake’s sigh is long, slow, deep, and hurting. “I want to believe that, Little Violet. I really do. But you’ve got so much faith in your uncle without knowing him like I do.” He holds his free hand out to her, pleading. I squeeze his captured hand, offering silent support. “Just shut it and prove me wrong. Can you do that for a couple days? I just…fuck, I need you to help me on this, Andrea. He wants you to stay with him, and if you do…you just might be able to end this.”
Andrea stares at his hand.
She doesn’t take it.
Instead, she turns her nose up, folding her arms over her chest.
“Arghhh, fine. I’ll help you. So maybe you can stop being paranoid and learn to trust people. Clark didn’t do it. Uncle Holt didn’t do it.” She makes a disgusted sound. “I’ll be your little spy, and then when you’re wrong, you can actually start being nice to your brother. Deal?”
Blake drops his hand, resting it on his knee.
“That’s asking a lot,” he says flatly.
She shoots him a withering look. “More than asking your teenage daughter to spy on the dude you think is setting fires everywhere?”
“Dammit, you’re worse than he is. I just want you to report back if you see anything funny, and if you do, call me ASAP. And call Peace if I’m not answering.” Blake drags a palm over his face. “Fine. If he’s innocent—if—then I’ll be all smiles for him. Happy?”
“Now I am,” she chirps, her mood shifting instantly. “How long?”
“No more than a week,” Blake says. “Check-ins every day. I’ll drop by as often as I can.”
She smiles brightly, bouncing to her feet and prancing over to drop a kiss on Blake’s cheek, leaving him looking absolutely befuddled as she singsongs, “Thank you, Daddy. I’ll go pack.”
He stares after her with wide eyes as she spins toward the stairs, then calls after her, “Don’t forget, you’re still helping Justin out with prepping his carnival workshop.”