He’d called me Skylar. Not Sky. Twice. And I had no idea why that hurt so much.

24

Gavin

Apparently trying to do the right thing was a great way to feel like shit.

I’d done it twice now, and both times had left me with a hollow ache in my chest. Things were supposed to be better, not worse.

So much for that.

After Skylar had walked away, I’d gone home and sulked with Princess Squeaker for a while. Her only suggestion was to give her kitty treats, which was cute, but didn’t help solve my problems.

My brothers were both on duty tonight, and I’d been too restless to sit at home alone. So I’d come back into town, looking for a distraction. Anything to get my mind off Skylar.

A group of cars outside the Knotty Knitter caught my eye. That looked like Grace’s car. And Cara’s. Gram was there too. What were they all doing there? All shopping for craft shit on a Monday night?

I was curious enough to stop and go inside.

I’d never been in this store. Aisles were jam packed with craft and sewing supplies. Yarn, fabric, paper, paints, stuff like that. I didn’t see anyone, but I heard voices coming from the back of the shop.

I went down an aisle and found a bunch of women sitting on a couch and in upholstered armchairs, all with yarn and big sticks or needles or something. Knitting? Crocheting? I didn’t know the difference.

They all stared at me like I’d just walked into the girls’ locker room after gym class, not the back of a craft store that was open to the public.

“Evening, ladies.”

The corners of Gram’s mouth twitched in a hint of a smile and her eyes flicked around the circle, like she was interested to see what the other ladies would decide to do with me.

My great-aunt Tillie Bailey-Linfield was there, along with Violet Luscier—related to me on Gram’s side—and my high school math teacher, Lacey Hanson. I’d crushed pretty hard on Ms. Hanson back in high school, but she was married with a couple of kids now.

Fiona waved at me with a cheerful smile. Grace twisted around to look at me, while Cara sat sideways in an armchair, sipping a drink, her legs dangling over one side. She was the only one without any yarn or sticks in her lap.

“Evening, Otter,” Gram said.

“Are you lost?” Cara asked with an amused glint in her eyes.

“No, I saw your cars out front. What’s going on in here?”

“It’s Stitch and Sip,” Grace said. “Our knitting and crochet group.”

Cara eyed me for a second, then swung her legs to the front of her chair and stood. “Here, you can have my chair.”

“Thanks.” I lowered myself into the chair, my eyes landing on the woman seated in the corner of the couch.

Wait.

Was that Marlene Haven?

I glanced around, wondering if they could see her or if the Havens had developed invisibility powers. Because how could Marlene Haven be sitting here calmly with Gram and Grace, like it was no big deal? Like there wasn’t a feud that went back generations?

“Marlene, can I get you a refill?” Cara asked.

She glanced up, looking over the rims of blue reading glasses. “I’m fine, but thank you.”

Well they could obviously see her.

She caught me staring and her mouth twitched in a smile. “Hi, Gavin.”

My eyes darted around again. Apparently this was fine. “Hi, Mrs. Haven.”

Little knowing smiles passed between the other women. I decided this must be girl stuff that was above my head, so I wouldn’t worry about it. I had enough on my mind anyway.

“Here, Otter.” Gram tossed me a package of light blue yarn. “Roll that into a ball for me.”

She’d given me this job before. Little kid me had sat at her feet while she tipped back and forth in her rocking chair, telling me stories while I rolled yarn.

“So what are we talking about?” I asked.

“I’m trying to plan Grace’s baby shower, but she’s shooting down all my ideas,” Cara said.

“Not all your ideas,” Grace said. “Just the male stripper.”

Cara rolled her eyes and perched on the arm of Grace’s chair. “I thought you’d want your shower to be fun.”

“I’m pretty sure we can have fun without a stripper. And it’s a baby shower, not a bachelorette party. How does a stripper go with a baby shower theme?”

“He’d be dressed like a hot doctor. That totally works with a baby shower theme.”

Grace tipped her head, like she was acknowledging Cara’s point.

“You could have him jump out of a cake,” Fiona said. “That would be fun and unexpected.”

“Speaking of the cake—”

“No,” Grace said, cutting her off.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say, my lovely buttercup.”

“We’re not doing a vagina cake with a doll head coming out of it.”

“Are vagina cakes a thing?” I asked. “I think I’d be totally on board with a vagina cake, but I’m not feeling the doll head coming out of one. Seems a little too on the nose.”

Cara tapped her phone screen a few times. “Totally a thing. See?”

The picture showed a pink cake with a doll head emerging from an even pinker vagina. There were even little chocolate sprinkles—whoever had been the pussy model apparently hadn’t been a waxer.

I shuddered and handed her phone back. “I can’t unsee that.”

“Why anyone would do that to their lady garden is beyond me,” Cara said. “No offense, boo. You’re going to do great.”

“Women do that to their lady garden because they want a family,” Grace said.

“This is why I adopted Fiona,” Cara said.

“Grace, you’re better off with the doctor stripper,” I said. “I’d give her that one so she gives up on the scary vag cake.”

“I’m not budging on either,” Grace said. “No strippers. No vagina cake.”

Cara smiled, tapping her phone screen again. “That’s fine because I wasn’t going to suggest a vagina cake. I want to get something like this.”

She held up her phone again. This cake had baby blue frosting and a big white cartoon sperm on top. He had eyes and a big grin that made him look very proud of himself. The cake read I did it in big white letters.

“Aw, look at the cute spermie,” Fiona said.

Grace laughed. “Okay, that’s adorable.”

“See? I’ve got you, boo.”

Tillie clicked her tongue. “Oh, Cara.”

“It’s the perfect follow up to the penis cake I had made for her bachelorette party. I know how to stay on brand.”

“That cake was really good,” Grace said.

I shifted, trying to get my leg in a more comfortable position, then kept rolling Gram’s yarn. “I didn’t get any cake.”

“You’d eat a dick cake?” Cara asked.

I shrugged. “It’s cake.”

“Otter, do you think Skylar would like to come to Stitch and Sip?” Gram asked.

“That’s a great idea,” Fiona said.