I move toward Lindy before I can stop myself. When I’m a few feet away, her hand jerks up.
“Don’t,” she whispers, and I stop where I am, fighting every urge in my body to move closer. Her eyes fall to the paper in my hand, the one Jo colored for me, and another unreadable expression passes over her face like a cloud. Jo glances between us, her brow furrowed.
“Is he my daddy?”
Jo’s question, asked in that same no-nonsense voice she used to tell me about Jaws needing a friend, rips through me. I know Lindy must be the best aunt in the world Jo mentioned. I’m not her father, but a surge of protectiveness rises in my chest.
“No. He isn’t.” Lindy’s voice softens as she brushes a stray lock of Jo’s dark hair away from her face. I can hardly make out Lindy’s words, but I do, and they’re painfully raw. “Remember? Your mama didn’t know who your daddy was.”
“Okay.”
Jo nods, and my heart cracks a little at the way she simply accepts this. It makes me want to find whoever her daddy is and give him a hearty shake.
“Then, who is he?” Jo asks, pointing to me.
Without so much as another glance my way, Lindy dismisses me with a firm, cool voice. “He’s no one. Not anymore.”
Well, I need to change THAT. Now that I’ve found Lindy, and she’s here, my wheels are already turning. They’re a bit squeaky, but still.
“Then why are you upset with him?” Jo asks. “Your chest always gets splotchy and your ears get pink when you’re upset.”
Lindy’s hand rises to her collarbone, like she wants to hide the color rising there. And it’s definitely rising. “I’m not upset.”
“I think he’s nice,” Jo continues as though Lindy didn’t answer. “I gave him my favorite picture.”
Lindy’s eyes go to the paper in my hand again, and she sighs. “Pack your things, Jo.”
I lick my lips. “Lindy—”
“You can’t be here,” she says, not looking at my face.
I clear my throat, but still sound hoarse, and way too needy. “Could we just—”
“No. We can’t. I … can’t.”
“But why are you here?” I ask.
“Why are you?”
“My dad and I stopped in for lunch.” That’s not the full answer, but the whole story is a little too complicated. Based on the way she’s responding right now, I probably need to ease her into the idea of Tank buying her hometown.
Mari appears through the swinging kitchen door. She looks at me, then at Lindy.
“Everything okay out here, mija?”
“Yes,” I say, just as Lindy says, “Not even a little bit.”
Mari nods, winding up a dish towel in her hands as she approaches me. “We’re closed.”
“It’s almost lunchtime.” I plant my feet.
Mari snaps her dish towel at me. “Closed.”
“Ouch!”
I start moving toward the door as Mari shoos me on, the towel snapping on my arms, my back, my hip. She is a fierce little lion tamer with a whip. Snap!
“Lindy, please!”
I see the corner of Lindy’s lip lift when Mari’s dish towel snaps on my arm. That hint of a smile plants a seed of hope. I always did make her laugh. I could again—I know I could.
I only need a chance. I need to find out why she’s here, why she looks so sad, and how I can fix it.