Chapter 4

A few weeks later, in mid-August, Trent sat in his car, not getting out for a long moment. The house looked even more dilapidated than usual, the paint peeling, the shutters falling from the windows. Junk of all sorts lined the porch—from furniture to tools to bags of God only knew what—and weeds had sprung up all over the yard. Trent had sent someone to mow the lawn to keep the neighbors from complaining, but he’d quit after mowing the lawn all of three times.

Trent couldn’t blame the guy. He didn’t want to be around his father, either.

Edward Younger had once been a prosperous man. He’d started in manufacturing in the 1970s, and he’d moved up the ranks until he’d made a good salary that could support his wife and five children. As the oldest son, Trent had looked up to Edward and had wanted to emulate his father when he grew up. Trent would get a good job and take care of his family just like Edward.

But when Trent’s mother, Beatrice, had begun to sink further into mental illness and addiction, Edward had become angry, and eventually, violent.

Now, Edward lived alone with only a nurse to attend to him, his heart failing and his lungs failing just as quickly, confined to a wheelchair and unable to go anywhere without a tank of oxygen.

Trent opened the front door and coughed at the smoke practically billowing from the living room. “Dad?” he called. “It’s Trent.”

He found Edward in front of the TV, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, his oxygen tank only feet away. An ashtray was filled with butts, and Trent pushed open a rickety window to let out some of the smoke.

“Jesus, you’ll burn the whole house down,” Trent said with a shake of his head.

Edward didn’t reply. He just took another drag of his cigarette. Although he was only sixty-one, he looked considerably older. His skin was sallow and loose, his eyes filmy, and his teeth were stained yellow. He had a rasping cough, although that didn’t stop him from still smoking.

“What do you want?” Edward finally asked. He barely looked at Trent. “I’m busy.”

“Watching TV?” Trent grabbed the remote and turned off the courtroom drama show his father was watching. “I got a call from your nurse. She’s threatening to quit unless you stop being an ass to her.”

Edward croaked out a laugh. “She needs to stop crying over every little thing.”

“Dad, this is the third nurse in three months. You can’t keep treating them like this.”

“What does it matter? I don’t need help. You think a nurse is going to keep me from dying here soon? It won’t.”

Trent rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know why he still came to see his dad. Ash and his other siblings avoided Edward like the plague. Ash always told Trent that he only hurt himself coming over here.

But Edward was still their father. Trent couldn’t just leave him to smoke himself to death in his house while he lived only a few miles away. Trent began to pick up the trash littering the living room, grimacing when he found food moldy and covered in insects on one table. He emptied out the ashtray and took the packet of cigarettes from the coffee table.

“You can’t smoke with an oxygen tank here,” Trent said firmly. “If you don’t care about yourself, then care about your neighbors, whose houses will probably catch fire if yours goes up in flames.”

Edward shrugged. “I’ll be dead, so what’s it matter?”

This had been the house Trent and his siblings had grown up in for the most part, although Trent had never considered it to be a safe haven. A few photos of his mother, Beatrice, sat on various shelves, dusty and aged. There was one photo of the entire family on the wall next to the TV, before everything had fallen apart.

Trent never looked at that photo too closely.

“I’ll talk to Lacey,” Trent said as he set a glass of water in front of Edward. “As long as you can promise to stop yelling at her and upsetting her.”

Edward grunted. “Who’s Lacey?”

“The nurse. Dad, are you even listening?” Anger simmered in Trent’s gut, and he wished he could take his father by his collar and shake him.

But anger had always been Edward’s recourse, and so Trent had stifled his own. He’d pushed it down, down, down, until he could imagine it didn’t exist in the first place. If he awoke from dreams that involved hitting his father until Edward apologized, he would just tell himself they were dreams and they didn’t matter.

Edward didn’t touch the glass of water. “I found something for you. It’s in my bedroom,” he said, just glancing at Trent.

Trent waited for an explanation, but when none was offered, he shrugged and went to Edward’s bedroom. It was just as trashed as the living room, with ashtrays overflowing with butts, and it smelled like stale smoke and sweat. Trent had no idea where this supposed item could be, but when his gaze landed on an old photo album, his heart stilled.

He picked up the aged album, the book almost falling apart as Trent opened it. Slowly, he looked at photos of his mother. These were photos from before her marriage, and Trent couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she’d been. Radiant, happy. Young. He couldn’t remember his mother like that; she’d become ill when Trent had been only seven, and she’d died seven years later.

He remembered the bruises on her face and her arms, ones Edward had inflicted, and he could barely reconcile the photos in this album with the woman he’d known as a child. He closed the album and swallowed against the lump in his throat.

When he came back into the living room, Edward nodded. “Found it under the bed.”

He didn’t offer any other explanation. But in that moment, Trent saw in Edward’s gaze a glimmer of the man he used to be, the man who could be capable of something as thoughtful as a gift like this. Edward could’ve kept this album for himself, or he could’ve thrown it out without saying a word.

“Thanks,” was all Trent could manage.

Edward just lit another cigarette he’d managed to find while Trent had been in his bedroom.

As Trent sat in his car outside his apartment later, he stared into the distant horizon without seeing anything. Memories swirled and coalesced—happy ones, tragic ones—and the album sat on the passenger seat like some kind of omen. He closed his eyes against the memories, but they came upon him anyway.

Trent hadn’t been able to save Beatrice. He’d tried his hardest to protect her and his siblings, but he’d only been a boy. He’d only grown to his full height after Beatrice had passed away, and by then, Edward had already begun to suffer from emphysema. Beatrice had been fragile and shattered by the time she’d died, when she’d overdosed on pain medication the day after her thirty-eighth birthday. Trent had been the one to find her.

He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly his fingers ached. The anger bubbled up into his throat until he thought he’d choke on it. He couldn’t give in to anger, though, because what if that anger overtook him like it had Edward? What if he became a replica of his father, hitting and yelling at everyone who he thought had wronged him?

If Trent could scream, or cry, or rail against fate, he would.

But none of those things could bring back the mother who’d died too young, or the childhood that had never existed in the first place.

“To us!” Megan Flannigan said as she raised her glass for a toast.

The rest of the women raised their glasses, too, and Lizzie murmured in agreement. Around the table sat Sara Thornton, née Flannigan; her sister, Megan, who was engaged to Caleb Thornton; Abby Davison, Mark Thornton’s fiancée; and Jubilee Thornton. And then there was Lizzie, who was not engaged, or married, or at all attached, and she told herself she was quite content with being single right now.

Megan had texted everyone last week to schedule a girls’ night, and they’d decided on a seafood place that was famous for its oysters. Lizzie was only thankful they hadn’t chosen one of Trent’s restaurants. The last thing she needed was to see Trent.

It had been almost three weeks since that kiss outside her apartment, and two months since that night after the wedding. Lizzie was hopeful that soon she’d think about Trent only five times a day, instead of the usual ten times.

“How are the wedding plans going?” Abby asked Megan with a sly smile.

Sara snorted; Megan rolled her eyes.

“They’d be fine if I didn’t have someone trying to give her opinion every five seconds,” Megan groused as she sipped her soda.

Jubilee smiled. “Are you saying our mom is driving you crazy?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Lizzie patted Megan on the arm. “Join the club.”

Lisa Thornton was a force to be reckoned with, and although she’d just helped plan Sara and Harrison’s wedding, she’d set her sights on Caleb and Megan’s wedding without missing a beat. Megan hadn’t wanted a big ceremony, and neither had Caleb, but Lisa had insisted. In an attempt to keep the peace, they’d agreed to Lisa’s demands for once, but Lizzie had a feeling it wouldn’t last much longer.

“She did help us pick out a great florist,” Sara offered. While Megan was fiery and brazen, Sara was sweeter and more apt to find the good and positive in everyone.

Lizzie couldn’t help but envy her sister-in-law that particular skill.

“Like you couldn’t have used Google,” Megan said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t she tell you that if you picked yellow roses, your marriage would fall apart because yellow roses mean friendship?”

Sara’s lips twitched. “She might have.”

“I think Mark and I might just elope,” Abby said.

That roused a round of questions from everyone. Lizzie didn’t say much, though. Although she enjoyed their company, she felt rather out of place at the moment. Maybe because her career was stalled and she felt like she’d lost her way. And then to add Trent Younger and everything his existence entailed…

“How’s Seth?” Jubilee asked Lizzie as the rest of the group talked weddings. “I’ve barely seen him since he’s been back.”

“He’s…Seth.” Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know how to talk to him, you know? He’s been in the military for so long that he’s almost a stranger.” Her voice turned sad as she swirled her straw around in her club soda. “But he’s very clean now. Cleaner than me.”

“Well, that’s handy. Does he vacuum?”

“He does. It’s really weird.”

Jubilee laughed. Lizzie and Jubilee, as the only Thornton girls, often commiserated about their stupid and overbearing brothers. While Lizzie was taller and slighter, Jubilee was smaller and curvier, although their hair was a similar shade of dark brown. Lizzie realized with a touch of sadness that her baby sister truly wasn’t a baby anymore: she was a grown woman now.

Jubilee had suffered from leukemia as a child, and the cancer had returned when she’d been a teenager. Although she’d been in remission for over a decade now, she’d always been kept in a bubble by the family. She’d only just moved out of the Thorntons’ family home a year ago, and she worked at Megan’s bakery. Lizzie had always wondered if Jubilee resented how the family had protected her, if she’d ever wondered what her life would’ve been like if she hadn’t been persuaded to stay close to home.

Jubilee had never really traveled, or gone off to college, or experienced much of life. Then again, she’d stared at death’s door more than once and survived, so what did Lizzie know? Jubilee was the strongest out of them all.

“How’s the music going?” Jubilee asked quietly.

Lizzie grimaced. “Terrible. I can’t write a thing.”

“What happens if you don’t write anything new soon?”

“I get dropped from the label.”

Jubilee frowned. “That seems unfair. Can’t someone else write songs for you?”

“Sure, but I told them I want to write my own songs. I tried recording a few songs written by other people, but Terry said they were awful. So, there’s that.” Lizzie forced a smile as she then asked, “What about you? How’s the bakery? Anything new happening with you? Any guys you’re interested in?”

“The bakery’s great, there are no guys right now, and that’s about it.” Jubilee paused, uncertain. In a low voice, she said, “I’m thinking about going to college.”

Lisa had essentially forbidden Jubilee from going away to college after she’d graduated from high school, as her health had still been uncertain. Lizzie had a feeling Lisa had just been scared to let her youngest out of her sight. Young and impressionable, Jubilee had agreed and stayed home.

“Really?” Lizzie’s eyes widened. “That’s great. What would you want to study?”

“I don’t know yet, but I feel like I need to go somewhere, you know? I’ve been in this town for so long…”

“Listen, you don’t have to talk to me about wanting to leave. If you want to go, go. I’ll support you in whatever you want to do.”

“Even if I want to be a stripper?”

Lizzie choked on her drink, which made Jubilee laugh. “Well, if that’s what you really want to do…” she teased.

Jubilee smiled, laughing. “No, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

After the plate of oysters arrived, the women began to eat their weight in mollusks, Lizzie only realizing after she’d begun eating how hungry she actually was. She’d been tired and sick to her stomach lately, which she’d chalked up to stress and anxiety. But now she could eat the entire plate of oysters by her lonesome if left alone.

As the group was about to leave, Lizzie felt someone touch her shoulder. Turning, she came face-to-face with a young woman who was probably no older than eighteen, looking at Lizzie like she’d hung the moon in the sky.

“Lizzie Thornton? Is it really you? I thought it was! Oh my God, I can’t believe it!” The girl blushed a bright red and fumbled in her purse to pull out her phone. “Can I have a photo?”

Lizzie smiled, although really the last thing she wanted to do was to have her picture taken with a fan when her career was going nowhere fast.

“Of course. What’s your name?” Lizzie asked as she went to pose next to the girl.

Her fan peppered her with questions as Sara, Megan, Abby and Jubilee looked on. Lizzie wanted to sink into the floor when the girl kept asking her when the next album would be released.

“It’s been two years already! I need something new!” the girl pleaded. “Tell me it’s coming soon, please?”

Lizzie swallowed. “It’s coming along, it’s just slower than we expected.”

“What does that mean? Are you even working on it?”

A flush crawled up Lizzie’s cheeks, and she noticed that other people in the restaurant were watching this exchange with avid attention. She usually didn’t mind attention—she craved it in a lot of ways—but not like this.

“It’s coming along,” Lizzie lied smoothly, forcing herself not to show her irritation. “I know it’s hard to wait, though.”

“Well, it doesn’t make sense that it’s taking this long. Shouldn’t you do what your fans want?”

“Hey, we need to get going,” Megan said as she took Lizzie’s arm. “Sorry for interrupting,” she said to the girl, although she didn’t sound sorry in the least.

Lizzie felt everyone’s gazes on her as she left the restaurant, the rest of the group trailing behind her and Megan. By the time they reached their cars, nobody knew what to say. Lizzie laughed uneasily.

“Well, that was awkward,” she said, trying to fill the silence. “That’s the first time I’ve ever had a rude fan.”

“She was being a dickwad to you,” Megan said. “What was up with her?”

“Are you okay?” Sara asked Lizzie.

Lizzie shrugged. “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here before that girl finds me again.”

Lizzie had driven herself, and she drove back to her place in silence. Normally she had music on, but music reminded her of what she wasn’t able to do right now. Although her fan had been rude, she’d been right, in a way: the new album was taking way too long, and the label was getting fed up. Despair filled Lizzie until she wanted to lie down and never get up again.

She just murmured a hello and a good night to Seth, who was watching TV on the couch, and then she shut her bedroom door and burrowed into her covers until morning.