Page 73 of Darling Venom
His father didn’t even seem to flinch.
He looked very much like someone who had fathered Kellan and Tate. The height. The deep-set blue eyes over tan, Italian skin. The full Mediterranean, brown-sugar hair with merlot highlights. Only his had grayed at the edges and in thick white streaks that he hadn’t bothered to comb, and he looked worn out, wrinkled, and exhausted with life.
“How did you… you never even…” Terry Marchetti looked around the room in wonder. “You said you were going to keep this place intact forever.”
“Plans change,” Tate clipped.
Terry swept his eyes over me. “I can see.”
My cheeks flared with color.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. She’s a child. Now leave us alone.” Tate stood abruptly and slammed the door in his face just to be on the safe side. I stayed on the floor, watching as Tate yanked the door open again as an afterthought. “Actually, make yourself useful and grab a copy of The Imperfections and sign it to Charlotte.”
“Got no copies here,” Terry hollered from downstairs. “You said I couldn’t bring anything other than my ass and my typewriter. Sorry, Charlotte.”
“It’s fine,” I yelled back.
Tate slammed the door again, tugging at his hair. He didn’t turn back to me. He was deep in his own head, and I wanted to get him out of there. Fast.
“Anyway, I found some real gems here. Those Wizard of Oz books, for instance, are first editions and signed.” I picked one of them, clearing my throat. “I think if we donate them to the local library, they’ll agree to taking on all the other books. It’ll be Kellan’s legacy.” Honestly, with a full set of first-edition Wizard of Oz, I’d be surprised if they didn’t name one of the floors at the library after him.
Tate’s eyes snapped to me like he’d forgotten I was there.
I cleared my throat. “Or you could sell them. You’ll get a good deal on them, I believe.”
“No,” he said. “We’ll donate.”
“I can do that for you if you don’t have time. I’ve been at the library three times a week since I was thirteen.” Way to tell him I had no life. Not that it wasn’t the truth. “I’ll be sure to give you the donation form so you can get the tax deduction for it.”
I just didn’t want him to think I’d sell them myself or keep them. But now I’d made things a thousand times more awkward.
Tax deduction? Really?
“Nice of you to offer. I accept.”
It came out stiff and formal, and I didn’t know why disappointment settled in my chest, considering we weren’t friends.
We weren’t even acquaintances.
Just two passing strangers who happened to be mourning the same person.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
I looked at the hour on my phone. It was almost ten. I hadn’t eaten dinner. I’d thought maybe Tate and I would order something since we’d spent the evening together. But he never suggested it, and I never asked.
My stomach growled loudly. I wanted to cover my face and disappear and crawl under the carpet. He couldn’t not hear that.
He was still standing by the door. “Thanks for the help.”
What are you waiting for, Charlotte?
Get up and drag your ass home.
He doesn’t want to hang out.
He made it clear that you are too young for him.
