This Could Be Us (Skyland, #2)(92)

“Mom and I are growing our hair out to donate,” she tells him, flags of pink in her cheeks. “Isn’t that cool?”

“That’s amazing, honey,” Edward says, glancing at her braided hair. “How long is it now?”

With a huge smile and deft fingers she unravels her braid, freeing the thick, bright strands around her shoulders and down her back. She gets that red hair from my father, and when I see it, I thank the recessive gene that defied all odds to gift this tiny piece of my dad to me through her.

Edward eyes the spill of hair down to her waist, and something shifts in his expression. A sadness I don’t understand at first.

“You’ve grown up so much, baby girl,” he tells Lupe, then glances to Inez and Lottie. “You all have. It’s only been a year, but I already feel like I’ve missed a lot.”

“When are you coming home?” Inez asks, then shoots a repentant look at me. “I mean getting out. When do you get out?”

“It’ll be over before you know it,” he replies. “And I can get back to my life. Back to you.”

“Why did you do it?” Inez asks, her tone injured.

In the difficult silence following Inez’s question, Edward seeks me out where I stand apart. And I realize that, like so many times in the past, he’s waiting for me to speak. For me to fix. For me to clean up a mess he’s made.

The hell I will.

I cross my arms over my chest and leave my mouth shut, zipped into a stubborn line while I wait with his daughters to hear how he’ll explain his deception.

“I wanted more for our family,” he finally says. “I made mistakes I’m not proud of. I shouldn’t have stolen from CalPot.” His eyes harden to flint. “Especially with that Judah Cross on my tail.”

“We saw him,” Inez offers. “At Mom’s event.”

All eyes snap to me, and my spine stiffens, but I don’t move.

“What event?” Edward demands. “Why was he there?”

No one else speaks, of course, so I draw an irritated breath and muster a response. “I was cooking for the Harvest Festival. Judah and his family were there, and he came to eat.”

I don’t owe Edward an explanation, and he knows it, but his lips tighten and his jaw is a line of granite. “That guy’s got some nerve.”

“Let’s not talk about nerve, huh?” I say. “Your audacity far outreaches anything he’s done.”

“What’s he ‘done,’ Sol?” Edward’s words come out like knives drawn, suspicion in the look he runs up and then down my body, like he’s checking for Judah’s fingerprints.

Oh, I’d just love to tell you where Judah’s fingers have been.

The stare I level back at him warns him to back down. He has no moral high ground, and if he presses me, I’ll remind him of that in front of his daughters and anyone around who’ll bother to listen. He finally shifts that censorious gaze from me to the clock on the wall behind us, his eyes widening.

“Look, girls,” he says, kissing Lottie’s head and reaching across for Lupe’s and Inez’s hands. “I have to get back. It’s time to go.”

“But… we…,” Inez sputters. “We just got here.”

“It’s been thirty minutes,” I say, but I frown at Edward’s sudden urgency for us to leave. “Your father’s right. Time to go.”

“Can we come back soon, Dad?” Lottie asks, her skinny fingers gripping the sleeve of his prison-issue shirt.

“Baby,” Edward says, standing hurriedly, “I’ve missed you so much, but I don’t want you seeing me here. And I don’t want you visiting prisons. This isn’t the place for my princesses.”

He draws them into his arms, the three of them huddled around him in a chorus of sniffles. My heart bends, not for him but for the girls, who know what he’s done—know what this situation is and that it is completely of his doing—but still love and miss this scoundrel.

“I’ll be out soon,” he says, kissing the top of each head. “But we can talk more on the phone. How about that?”

Inez nods, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. Lottie leaves his arms and rushes over to me, burying her little face against my chest, wetting my dress immediately with a flood of sorrow. I blink at the hot tears rising with the evidence of my daughter’s pain. Rage and helplessness careen through me, and I glare at Edward over her head.

You did this!

The furious scream is trapped in my throat, clawing to break through the cage of my teeth. I’m so angry that Edward demolished life as our daughters knew it, shattered their illusions and introduced struggle into their lives that I had to rescue them from. But I wouldn’t trade the truth for the ease of the life we had, not when it came with the paranoia his sneaky behavior caused or the insecurities he planted trying to manipulate me into being the wife he wanted. It’s shitty that our girls had to find out what a termite their father was, but I’ll guide them through recovery and healing, and they’ll come out stronger, their eyes wide open about how people will exploit your weaknesses if you let them.

And it’s petty, maybe immature, but I can’t leave without leveling at least one punch.

As we’re going, I turn to Edward, reaching to yank him into a tight hug. Surprise stiffens him against me, and I pull his head down as if whispering a secret.