“You can’t do that for free.”
Scowling, I retorted, “Says who? It’s mine. It’s free for family. Violet is family.” When she didn’t readily agree, I sighed loudly. “Just accept help, Navy. It doesn’t make you weak. Sometimes you’re too much of a martyr.”
“What does that mean?”
I grimaced, because it was not my intent to call her out like that. Navy had the biggest heart of anyone I knew, but she gave it away without discretion—making herself vulnerable to getting hurt.
“What I mean is that you can be pig-headed when it comes to your sisters. You don’t have to suffer for your parents’ mistakes.”
She blinked; her mouth open. “It’s not suffering to take care of my sisters.”
“I’m not…” Fuck, I was bad with words. I needed to be softer. “I’m not saying you’re suffering. I’m saying that you struggle to accept help when there are people who are ready and willing to help you. You help everybody else, but the moment someone offers their hand, you snub it. You suffer because you think you think it’s your responsibility to carry alone. And—” I said, speaking louder so she couldn’t talk over me, as I saw she was prepared to do, “I’m just saying that you need to be better at saying yes.”
“It’s not that easy. I’ve seen what my aunt has had to sacrifice for us. That’s why I try so hard to take care of everyone, of everything.”
“I know it isn’t easy, Navy. I get it. I do. You are headstrong and you are loyal—to a fault. Those are some of your best qualities. But you don’t have to do all of this alone. You don’t. I can help. Let me help. Please, Navy.” Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes glistened. I couldn’t stand to see her cry, so I quickly added, “Besides, this means you might not grumble as much as you help me spruce it up.”
She gave me a watery laugh. “Does it have running water? Electricity? Is it safe?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. Besides, I’d planned to camp out there myself over the next few months as I renovated it. She wouldn’t be alone.”
Navy hadn’t fully committed to the idea; I could tell because she wouldn’t look at me.
“Unless… I mean, if you think she’ll be afraid to have me there, I can set up a tent outside. I’d offer to go back to my parents’ house each night, but I just don’t like the idea of her being out there alone.”
“I mean, all of this is so hypothetical. We still need to talk to her about it. I want to say that I don’t think she’d be afraid of you, but she’s a whole different person now. I trust you. Of course.” She wrapped a warm hand around mine. “And you’re so sweet to offer this. I appreciate it. Keane, you don’t even know how good it feels to just talk about this with someone. But I want to make sure it’s okay with her, first.”
“Makes sense.”
“Maybe she could come out to the cabin with me tomorrow and get a good look at it. It would be hard for her to commit without seeing it.”
“Of course. I can pick you guys up in the morning, if that works? I wanted to make a list of shit I needed to get for this week. So I hadn’t planned on being out there too long.”
“But I thought I was supposed to come help you paint?”
“I’ll wait until Violet looks at it. She might want a different paint for the bedrooms.”
“Bedrooms? How big is this cabin anyway?”
“It’s got two bedrooms, but the second one is about the size of a walk-in closet. It’ll work for a crib. At least until Violet figures things out.”
She shook her head. “You’re really sure you’re ready for this?”
For Navy, I’d do just about anything. “I’m so sure that if she needed to get out tonight, I’d pick her up and bring her now.”
The hand holding mine squeezed. “You’re a good man, Keane.”
“Thanks. Tell Delilah, huh?”
“Geez.” She pushed me gently. “You’re not really interested in her, are you?”
I laughed. “Fuck, no. It was a joke. Delilah likes her men to smell like fancy cologne and coffee shops. Pretty soon here I’m going to smell like sawdust and paint.” But that didn’t seem to appease her, as she still eyed me with speculation. “No, Navy. I am not remotely interested in going down that road. She’s selfish and lazy, even if you don’t see it.”
“She’s a good employee.”
“Who always shows up late. Who does a couple of her normal tasks and makes sure to tell you what she’s done and then proceeds to spend the rest of her shift painting her nails while you stock and clean and dust. Who opens a glitter card at work and then doesn’t even clean it up.”
“Where’s the anger coming from?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm.
I didn’t know. I didn’t usually push Navy, especially when I knew there wasn’t anything she could do about it. It’s not like she could or would fire Delilah. But it was one thing after another with Delilah. Navy rarely complained to me, but when she canceled plans because she had to cover a shift for Delilah, it rankled. “She just doesn’t clean up after herself. Remember when your microwave reeked of fish because she microwaved that nasty chowder in it?”
“It was her birthday,” Navy said gently, as if that would make me be any more understanding of the fact.
“And she didn’t clean up the splatter or apologize for the mess.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Because she knew you’d clean up her mess. When’s her birthday?”
“August sometime.”
“Good. I’ve got a gift idea for her this year. Buy her some diapers, then she can clean up her own shit.”
Navy laughed. “Keane, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is.” I was fired up. I mostly blamed it on the knowledge that Violet had been beaten by her boyfriend but knowing that this was going to cause a greater burden on Navy lit me up in a way I hadn’t felt in a while. Everyone dumped their troubles on Navy and expected her to figure it out. Because she did, because she was too afraid to talk about her own feelings. I didn’t blame Violet—I was glad she came back to Navy. But I couldn’t ignore the fact that Navy’s already full plate was going to start overflowing soon. And people who were completely capable of taking care of themselves—like Delilah—needed to get it the fuck together. “Next time she calls you to cover a shift for her, tell her to put on her big girl panties and do it herself.”
“I can’t do that. Not while my aunt’s gone.”
“Yeah, and she can’t do that to you, while your aunt’s gone. What happens if she bails and you gotta do a shift alone?”
“I’ll call Roger.”
“That dickhead. He’s halfway in love with you.”
“And that makes him a dickhead?”
She had me there. I paused, my anger quickly going from boiling to simmering. “No, of course not. But he’s still a dickhead.”
“And yet you can’t tell me why he’s a dickhead.”