He squeezes my hands back, watching me earnestly. “I don’t like it, but I need something, dammit. Some proof. Andrea’s smart. She can be my eyes and ears. Keep him busy so I know where he is at all times, and if a fire pops up while she’s with him...we know for sure it ain’t him. But if it is, then she just might find us the evidence we need.”
“Unless you’ve got another girlfriend,” comes from the kitchen, “that ‘she’ you’re talking about better not be me.”
Uh-oh.
We both look up as Andrea trots through the back door, stomping her feet on the mat and pulling her hoodie back from her wild-colored hair.
Blake and I yank our hands back like an electric shock. She just arches a brow, giving us both a cynical look.
“Really? You two are like third-graders. God, hold hands in front of me, guys. At least you can stop pretending.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, shrugging out of her big military jacket as she meanders into the living room with a dry little smile for me. “Just so you know, you can do way better. Buuut I’m not too mad that you didn’t. Dad needs somebody.”
“Careful.” Blake shoots her a deadly look.
I grin, offering my hand to Blake. “Nice to have your seal of approval.”
She just wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out playfully, while Blake sighs and slips his hand into mine, squeezing it warmly, freely. I flush for the hundredth time at how easily he makes a show of being with me in front of others.
We probably need to have some kind of talk soon.
But maybe not right now.
And Blake seems to agree because he says, “Peace and I haven’t really had a chance to work out what we’re doing yet before we talk to you about it.”
Andrea shrugs, flinging herself down into the easy chair and sprawling out with typical teenage ennui. “Do whatever you want. She’s gonna dump you for being an asshole sooner or later anyway, so no skin off my ass.”
Blake sighs.
“Language,” he mutters with the air of someone who’s said it a million times.
Andrea just rolls her eyes again, leaning forward and snagging the TV remote.
I snort. “Hey. I’m not gonna dump him for being an ass.” I eye Blake playfully. “Maybe.”
“Haven’t run you off yet, have I?” he returns with a warm, lingering look, his blue eyes mellowing.
“Yet.”
“Ugh,” Andrea groans. “Can you stop being gross? And tell me why you were talking about me?”
Blake hesitates, sobering, then says, “Violet, I need your help.”
Andrea’s eyes widen when she sees it’s not a joke. She goes rigid, darting a sidelong look at her dad. “Who are you, and what pod person replaced my dad?”
“I’m serious, Andrea.” Blake groans. “It’s about your Uncle Holt.”
Her eyes narrow. “You mean the uncle I didn’t know I had and that you’ve been a complete dickwad about?”
“Yep, that’d be him.”
She sniffs. “I had to turn down a ride home from school yesterday in the snow because I knew you’d be ridiculous about it.”
“First I’m hearing of it. You should’ve told me, girl,” he growls, his brow furrowing. “See, this is why I don’t trust him. He does shit behind my back. And I need you to help me catch him at it.”
Andrea’s annoyed expression turns puzzled. “At what? What’s he doing to crawl up your butt so bad?”
“At figuring out if he’s the arsonist who almost burned down the damn Menagerie,” Blake says grimly. “And keeping him from setting more fires.”
“What!” She bolts forward in her chair, leaning in, staring at him wild-eyed. “No way.”
“Way,” Blake throws back.
Her gaze darts to me. “You...you think he did it, too?”
“Well,” I wince, my words stalling.
Oh, boy. I can’t take sides. And honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore.
Right now, I don’t trust my gut with everything so confusing. Not to mention that little wrist apparatus we found at the vet clinic, the same kind I saw Clark practicing with at the carnival grounds...
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I don’t know him very well. Your father does.”
“Yeah, but my father’s a dick who hates everyone in his family,” Andrea slurs, her eyes flashing as she turns a glare on Blake. “You’re joking, right? You can’t actually believe it’s Uncle Holt? You just don’t want me to have anyone in my life but you, huh? First Clark, now my uncle?”
Blake’s face visibly falls, his brows drooping. “That ain’t what it’s about, Andrea. Never was. Believe me. Besides, if it’s your Uncle Holt doing it, then I’ve got no reason to stop you from hanging out with Clark, do I?”
“Awesome. So now I have to choose between them?” Her mouth twists up in an upset line. “That’s so not fair. It’s not fair that both the people you think are doing it are people I want in my life. They’re both innocent.”
Blake’s sigh is long, slow, deep, and hurting. “I want to believe that, Little Violet. I really do. But you’ve got so much faith in your uncle without knowing him like I do.” He holds his free hand out to her, pleading. I squeeze his captured hand, offering silent support. “Just shut it and prove me wrong. Can you do that for a couple days? I just...fuck, I need you to help me on this, Andrea. He wants you to stay with him, and if you do...you just might be able to end this.”
Andrea stares at his hand.
She doesn’t take it.
Instead, she turns her nose up, folding her arms over her chest.
“Arghhh, fine. I’ll help you. So maybe you can stop being paranoid and learn to trust people. Clark didn’t do it. Uncle Holt didn’t do it.” She makes a disgusted sound. “I’ll be your little spy, and then when you’re wrong, you can actually start being nice to your brother. Deal?”
Blake drops his hand, resting it on his knee.
“That’s asking a lot,” he says flatly.
She shoots him a withering look. “More than asking your teenage daughter to spy on the dude you think is setting fires everywhere?”
“Dammit, you’re worse than he is. I just want you to report back if you see anything funny, and if you do, call me ASAP. And call Peace if I’m not answering.” Blake drags a palm over his face. “Fine. If he’s innocent—if—then I’ll be all smiles for him. Happy?”
“Now I am,” she chirps, her mood shifting instantly. “How long?”
“No more than a week,” Blake says. “Check-ins every day. I’ll drop by as often as I can.”
She smiles brightly, bouncing to her feet and prancing over to drop a kiss on Blake’s cheek, leaving him looking absolutely befuddled as she singsongs, “Thank you, Daddy. I’ll go pack.”
He stares after her with wide eyes as she spins toward the stairs, then calls after her, “Don’t forget, you’re still helping Justin out with prepping his carnival workshop.”
“I won’t forget!” drifts down the stairs while Blake just sits there.