39
SCARLETT
As soon as the door shut behind Aiden, I heard Darwood’s caterwauling, but with the door closed, I didn’t decipher the words.
It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek, and I knew the right spot. I snuck out the back door and ran to the section of my yard to crawl on my belly through the thornless loganberry patch and up to the fence where I saw everything through the slats. The smell of sun on dirt and warm straw, which I used to mulch the patch, reassured me, like a blanket fort, the canes arching over my head provided cover.
From my little summer sanctuary, I noticed Aiden pull his elbow back and clock Darren, who oozed on in his typical wheedling and accusatory fashion. I recalled being at the receiving end of that droning complaint. Still, I worried when I saw Darren’s he
