13. Marnie

I didn’t mean to call him a kid.

He’s definitely not.

And it’s possible we’re both being a little childish.

But then he waltzes back and throws his truck door open.

My first thought is that he’s siccing the dog on me.

But then I realize he’s siccing the dog on someone else.

Namely, the lanky giant climbing out of his pickup truck.

Another pretty bean pole. At least this one is obviously younger than me. Nineteen or twenty, would be my guess.

The girl he has his hands around, on the other hand, can’t be much older than sixteen. She’s nothing short of angelic. Short, with soft, flowing blonde hair. She wears an oversized t-shirt that just skims past her cut-off jean shorts.

They don’t see any of us. Not Dusty. Not me. And definitely not the brown blur of fur barreling their way. They’re too busy staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. But then Ed is growling and barking like he’s spotted Satan.

I didn’t like it when Ed was coming towards me, but I almost cheer for him when he goes for the tall guy’s butt.

“Ed. Down!”

The girl shouts, grabbing Ed’s collar.

Ed allows himself to be pulled away, but not without taking a souvenir. A scrap of the guy’s shirt.

“This fucker.”

Dusty mutters, stomping past me.

“Trinity!”

He snaps, the growl in his voice giving Ed a run for his money. “I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my sister.”

“Calm down, Dusty.”

She responds, still struggling to hold on to Ed’s collar. “He was just giving me a ride home.”

Dusty glances back at her. “This asshole is way too old for you.”

“Yes. You’ve made that clear. That’s why he was just giving me a ride.”

Dusty glares at Trinity, skepticism clear on his face. “Uh-huh.”

“Should I have hitchhiked?”

She tosses her head, catching sight of me. Tilting her head, curiosity flashes in her eyes before she turns back to Trinity. “You better go.”

Trinity grins at her, smirking at Dusty as he climbs back into his truck. Safely behind the wheel, he rolls the window down. “Put a muzzle on that mut of yours, Larson. Somebody might be liable to shoot a rabid dog like that.”

“Just go, Trinity.”

She says, shaking her head.

Once the truck is headed back down the drive, Dusty turns his anger on his sister. “That guy is bad news, Sienna.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know his brother. He was in the grade above us, and he was a piece of shit.”

It seems like this is an old argument.

She tilts her chin up. “Yeah? How so?”

“He was a complete player.”

“Takes one to know one.”

That seems to take some of the steam out of him.

She softens, glancing back at me. “Who’s your friend?”

They both start walking back towards me. Ed trots ahead, sitting at my feet with a proud tilt to his head. It’s like he’s staking his claim.

I can’t say I like having his furry butt planted on my boots, but it’s better than having him jump all over me.

“This is Marnie.”

Dusty says, his eyes cutting through me. It’s clear he’s having a rough day.

Him and me both.

“Marnie… Oh.”

Sienna’s eyes widen. “I see it now. You look just like him.”

“That’s what people have been saying.”

My tone is bone dry.

I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s a good idea to compare a woman to her seventy-year-old uncle.

Sienna grins sheepishly. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. You Novaks just have a look. Dark skin. Those eyebrows. I don’t know, it’s kind of exotic, I guess.”

“Just stop while you’re ahead.”

Dusty mutters.

Sienna bites her lip, trying not to smile. “You’re a baker, right?”

I nod, feeling a strange fluttering in my chest.

“Gus was always going on about his niece from Lincoln. It was a gluten-free bakery, right?”

Guilt crashes around in my chest. “Yeah.”

“In honor of your mom?”

How does she know all these details? “Yeah. She had Celiac Disease.”

She nods. “I thought that’s what he said.”

I didn’t know he was paying that much attention. He was a quiet guy. Reserved to the point of being grouchy. When I was a kid, I used to think of him as a big, grumpy teddy bear. I used to love spending a few weeks at the farm every summer.

But as I got older, the fishing holes and the sandlot baseball games lost their appeal. And I stopped going. After a while, Gus occupied less and less of my thoughts.

It’s cutting me pretty deep to know that he was keeping close tabs on me all the while.

Exhaustion crashes into me like a wave. It’s been a long, strange night. Not wanting these two to see me deconstruct, I nod sharply. “Well, nice meeting you both. I’m going to crash, but I’ll see you in the morning?”

I make eye contact with Dusty. Trying to ignore the zing that passes between us, I turn on my heel and retreat, grateful for the shadows.