fears better. Better to do that than let her do something that can’t be undone.”
Barbie doesn’t want to be medicated. She thinks taking a pill makes her a loser. But more than that, she doesn’t want to admit she’s got whatever fucked-up shit our mother had. Barbie fancies herself a strong woman, and our mom was a weakling in her mind. She doesn’t even like people mentioning how she has Mom’s eyes.
I understand Barbie's issues. I don’t want anyone comparing me to my dad, even though I look like him. He’s a bad dream I want to forget. Our mother wasn’t an evil fuck like him. She was messed up in the head, and no one would get her any help. Or maybe someone tried, and she refused like Barbie.
But none of that matters to me now. If Barbie fucks with my kids or Lana, she’s fucking directly with my heart. This isn’t a difference of opinions. I put up with a lot of shit from my sisters but never about my girls. And I won’t tolerate it for Lana either.
“I’m not letting you around the girls or inside this house until you get your shit sorted,” I tell Barbie, who balks immediately. “The fact that you don’t think what you did was a big deal proves you won’t be more careful. You can’t change. You’ll attack Lana again. Next time, the baby could be hurt. Sidonie might try to stop you. I know your temper. I can’t chance you hurting them. I also refuse to allow Lana to become your punching bag. Either get your shit fixed or stay out of my house and away from my family.”
I gesture for Barbie to leave. She starts talking shit about how I’m ungrateful, and how much she sacrificed for me. “How many times did I go hungry at night so you could be fed?” she cries as Conor leads her away.
I don’t waste time reminding her of how I was the one that made sure she was taken care of once Wheels was gone. How I’ve been giving for longer than I was taking. How a gift isn’t a gift if someone holds it over a person’s head forever.
There’s no use talking to her. She’ll either choose to see a doctor or she won’t. I’ve made my decision, and I can be as stubborn as my sisters. The Parrish family is known for being unflinching assholes.
“Bronco,” Bambi says, wanting to smooth things over, but I wave her off.
Over the years, I’ve gotten the feeling that neither of my sisters thinks I deserve to be happy. Oh, I can be rich, and I can have a few kids to raise on my own. But I don’t get to have a happy family. Deep inside, when they look at me, they see our father. And nothing hurts worse than when your enemy wears a smile on his face.
I leave Lowell to handle the rest of the meeting. Halfway up the stairs, Summer stands awkwardly.
“They’re fine.”
“Are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your sisters were crying, and you have a tender heart.”
Summer rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t hide her worries as well as she thinks. Adding Lana, Desi, and Carina to the house is stressing her out, but she seems to like Sidonie’s new calm.
I also believe deep inside, where she doesn’t like to venture, Summer craves a mother in her life. Eating at the table like we do—Mom, Dad, kids—I’ve caught her checking out everyone. I noticed how she got edgy when Desi cried the other night. Summer wants what Sidonie wants, but she hides her feelings better.
Lana hides them too. Her mask is on full display as she stands next to Carina’s crib, staring blankly at our daughter.
“She needs a bottle,” Lana says without looking at me. “Is it safe to get one?”
I call down to Bambi, who’s still dicking around in the kitchen. She walks up with the bottle. Bambi gives me a humbled look, scared of my temper and at ending up in the doghouse with Barbie. Offering her a chance to stay in my good graces, I ask her to feed the baby and watch the girls while I talk to Lana. Bambi agrees immediately.
I take Lana’s hand and walk her toward the playroom, where I can shut the door and speak in private.
“I’m sorry she hurt you,” I say when Lana stands emotionless.
“I’m fine.”
Sighing, I cup her face and insist, “I need you to be square with me. You can