Betrayed by My Childhood Love novel · Chapter 11 of 32

Chapter 11: Not an Apology

Waylon stood up first.

He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet.

My shirt was still rucked up at the back. I yanked it down.

"Want me to handle it?" he said.

"No."

"Want me to stand there while you handle it?"

"Yes."

We walked up the dock together.

The music in the garage had stopped.

The whole party had drifted out to the open door: the team, the shrimpers, Gran with a cake knife still in her hand.

Lyndon got out of the car.

He looked thinner than he had in New Mexico. His polo was wrinkled, and he hadn't shaved.

He saw Waylon beside me, and his mouth went flat.

"Who's this?"

"None of your business," I said. "Why are you here?"

"It's your birthday."

"It was my birthday in April."

"I know. I'm late." He tried a smile. "Essie, can we talk? Alone?"

"No."

He glanced at the crowd in the garage door.

The old man from the red boat had folded his arms.

Gran was tapping the cake knife against her leg.

"Fine," Lyndon said. "Fine. I came to tell you something. You were right about Annika."

I waited.

"She's using me. She's been using me since the start." He laughed, but it came out wrong. "She doesn't even like me. She likes that I'm useful."

"Useful how?"

"I got her the notebooks." He said it to the gravel. "She asked me last spring. She said you'd never use them, they were just sitting in a garage, and it wasn't fair you got to be smart and have Mom and Dad."

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