With that amount of bags, did he expect me to make every kid in Matlock cookies?

“Dodo, Dodo, Dodo, Dodo,” Brooks chanted.

I glanced down to him to see he’d made it to Toby, pulled himself up to his feet using Tobe’s jeans, and was banging on his leg with both of his chubby hands to get attention.

For his part, Dapper Dan was hanging close but giving my boy priority spacing to get to their guy.

Totally a good dog.

“Hamburger,” Toby said, not to my son, to me, and my gaze lifted again to his. “Chicken. Pork shoulder. A coupla steaks. Tortillas. Beans. Rice. Cous Cous. Spice packets for tacos, chili, pulled pork. You can cook it, freeze what you don’t eat, take it out in the morning and have a decent meal that night, right along with Brooks.”

Oh my God.

He’d left after installing the Christmas lights to go grocery shopping for me.

“Dodo, Dodo, Dodo, Dodo, Dodo,” Brooks kept chanting.

“Deli meat,” Toby carried on with his grocery litany. “Cheese. Bread. Condiments. Chips. Snack packs of shit like pudding and granola bars. For you to make lunches.”

“Toby—” I forced out.

Apparently, this effort took too much time because Tobe talked right over me.

“Frozen pizzas. Frozen pies. Ice cream and cupcakes. So you can give yourself a treat. And other shit, just to have to eat. As well as laundry detergent, fabric softener, crap like that. And for the party tonight, wine and beer.”

Stiltedly, I looked down at the big bags covering Izzy’s island.

I sensed Toby move and I looked that way, something that had been weighing me down lifting inside me as I saw him bending to my son.

And then that something froze solid when I watched him detach Brooklyn from his leg, set him away on his ass, and move to the island.

Brooklyn sat there, stunned, staring up at Toby, his little baby face openly confused.

And the freeze inside turned to fire.

My attention shifted to Toby as he got close, but I had to look down when I saw him pull something out of his back pocket.

He set a white envelope on the edge of the counter.

“That’s five grand in cash and a check for the same,” he announced.

My gaze darted back to his.

He was still talking.

“You use the cash for face-to-face shit. Gas. Food. Paying Johnny. Whatever. You do not deposit it, Adeline. The check, you deposit and use on bills.” He stared hard at me a second before he went on, “If you keep it. Whatever you got in your head that might make you refuse it, I don’t care. Do whatever you want. I don’t give a fuck. What you can’t do is give it back to me. I won’t accept it. Either use it or do whatever with it. But do not try to give it back to me.”

“To—”

“I’m leaving town.”

I shut my mouth as I tried to beat back the pain of what felt like a sudden, unexpected, and very brutal blow to my chest.

“After the new year,” he continued. “Goin’ down to Florida to work with a bud. I’ll be back for Johnny and Izzy’s wedding in the summer. Whatever you do with that,” he tapped his middle finger on the white envelope, “is your call. But for Christmas I’m givin’ Brooklyn toys, but also clothes and shit he needs because he’s growin’ like a weed and he’ll be out of his stuff in no time. And I’m warnin’ you now, I’ll be givin’ him a lot of all that. You don’t accept it, you’re not just proud, you’re stupid.”

And with that parting blow, he went on the move, strolling past me, out of the kitchen, and as I stiffly turned to watch, I saw him disappear.

But my son cried, “Dodo!”

And my dog barked.

Dapper Dan followed Toby on a trot while Brooklyn motored on his hands and knees as fast as his chubby limbs could take him.

I heard the front door close, my dog bark again, and another plaintive cry from my baby boy of, “Dodo!”

And standing in the kitchen with ten thousand dollars in an envelope and hundreds of dollars in food, beer and wine on my island, I experienced the excruciating feeling of my head exploding.

 

Toby

Toby was on his back on his couch, a bottle of beer resting on his stomach, his eyes trained to a game on the TV.

His mind was not on the game.

His mind was on, That’s cool. See you then!

See you then?

With an exclamation point?

From Addie?

Jesus.

Fake.

He fucking hated fake.

They have a fight. Johnny gets up in his shit. Toby knows Addie’s sister talked to her. The whole town was gabbing about it. Addie doesn’t drop him a text. And when he contacts her, he gets see you then! like that shit didn’t happen at all.

Like she was just going to ignore it. Pretend he didn’t know she was broke, not eating enough, surrounded by people who gave a shit about her and were not only willing to help, but wanted to and had the means to do it, and she was just going to blow it all off, go her own way and be fucking fake about it.

Fuck that.

Fuck it.

He knew she might, and probably would, eat the food he dropped on her.

But he figured the ten large he’d given her would be at some animal shelter or something by next weekend.

Whatever.

Fuck that too.

If the woman let pride blind her to that point, it wasn’t his gig.

That’d be on her.

And when she was eating cat food in a couple of months, she’d regret paying for enough cat food for the cats in a shelter to eat for a year.

It was not his business.

And he was actively denying the fact that knowing she’d pull shit that fantastically stupid was driving him out of his mind, and he wanted to get off his back, in his truck, go to her house and shake some sense into her (or better, spank some into her).

This was why he had no idea what was happening with the game on the TV.

And this was messing with his head so badly, it was why his body jerked in surprise when his doorbell rang.

His body tensed when it didn’t stop ringing.

He lifted up and looked over the back of the couch to the door, which was windows separated by a diamond panel of wood in the middle, lines formed of wood coming out from the points. So he could clearly see Addie standing there, head bowed, pushing on his doorbell, her face set firm to ticked.

Right.

They were gonna do this.

And he was ready.

He knifed up, put his beer to the coffee table, and prowled to the door.

Addie saw him, stopped with the bell, but glared at him through the glass.

She didn’t have Brooklyn.

Even better.

He could let loose.

Tobe made it to the door, flipped the lock and opened it, his mouth opening to start them off.

He didn’t get a word in.

She had both hands in his chest, pushing so hard his torso swung back, shouting, “You don’t ignore my kid!”

After that, she shoved past him, slamming into him with a shoulder.

He turned with her, closing the door, and he barely got around before she whirled, leaned his way, and screamed, “Don’t you ever ignore my boy!”

Fuck.

“Addie,” he murmured.

She lifted a hand and stabbed a finger at him. “Fuck you, Tobias Gamble.” Another stab and, “Fuck you!” She dropped her hand and yelled, “How dare you show at my home and stand in my kitchen with my son banging on your leg, and you don’t even look at him!”