Lettie helped the kids, while Moriah broke down in the center of the kitchen, her silent sobs gaining power.
Little One was in good hands. Moriah? A hot mess of trembling bones and devastation. Whatever was about to go down needed to happen in private. I grabbed her hand and led her around the corner to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind us.
“You?” I grabbed tissues from the shelf. “This is fuckin’ crazy. God damn crazy.”
Snatching the offered box, she parked her ass on the toilet, then leaned forward, hiding behind her hands, shoulders bobbing.
Shit.
Dropping to a squat at her feet, I whispered, “Let it go, gorgeous.” I gripped her neck, pulling her close. “Let it out. Then pull yourself together. That little girl needs you at one-hundred-percent. Whatever you need to purge, do it here. Do it now.”
The woman sobbed in my arms, wetting my shirt, fingers curled into my waist, her full weight falling against me.
A good three minutes passed before she drew a long, hitched breath, then blew it out nice and slow.
“Oh, God. I can’t do this.” She pulled away, her hands moving to my shoulders, red, swollen eyes searching mine. “I can’t take any more.”
“Take any more of what?” My words came clipped. Flaming daggers pierced my chest, making my blood pump hot. Wasn’t sure I wanted her answer, because it sounded to me like she was giving up on her niece, and that was un-fucking-acceptable.
“I buried my mom less than a week ago. That same day, I learned my sister was dead and that I had a niece nobody knew existed. Then I met this amazing guy the same day I dumped my boyfriend. Then I met this gorgeous, broken little girl. And she’s the only family I have left, and she doesn’t want me, but she wants this man who’s a stranger, who sings to her, and makes her feel safe, but who’s going to leave. And this guy who saved her happens to be the man I can’t stop thinking about, even though I believed I was never going to see him again. Then I leave, to clear my head, and this child who I love more than life, who hasn’t spoken a word to me, tells another stranger her name. The very name my sister used to call me. And it’s all too much.”
Okay. Fuck. That was some shit. I was about to say so, until she slapped my chest.
“And what the eff? Seriously. You? Of all people? You’re the man who saved her life? Oh, God.” Her face crumpled again. “You gave me my niece. You saved her.” She wrapped her hands around my neck and dotted my face with wet kisses. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I can never repay you.”
Salty tears mingled with more kisses.
A few hiccups followed.
“Trailer.” She cupped my face, her nails scratching through my beard. “Tucker said I couldn’t know who you were, that it was dangerous for me to know. Is that true?”
Fuck.
Lying was not an option. She deserved the truth. “Yeah. It’s true. I’m not the kind of guy you can afford to be mixed up with.”
“I don’t understand.”
“And I’m not going to help you understand. I’m leaving as soon as that little nugget is good to go. Not gonna soil what happened between us with the dirty details of my life.”
“All right.” She nodded, still working her fingers through my facial hair like a nervous tic. “I won’t pry. I owe you that much.”
“Good.” That was too easy. She was too God damned sweet. “You okay now?”
“Yeah.” She gutted me with a bright smile.
After helping her stand, I offered, “I’m sorry about your mom and your sister. Shitty you’ve had to deal with those cards on your own.” I swiped a tear off her cheek…and… What the fuck? I didn’t do that shit.
To save face, I cupped between her legs, squeezing hard because, yeah, that was more like it. “Not sorry about the boyfriend, though. Not one fuckin’ bit.”
# # #
The aroma of slow-cooked roast perforated the walls, twisting my guts something fierce, challenging my decision to stew alone rather than join everyone downstairs. Family dinners were not my thing. I appreciated the invitation, but sharing a table with Pretty Boy? Recipe for disaster. And after my run-in with Moriah, the camaraderie would set my nerves into hyperdrive.
We’d been under the same damn roof for days.
What were the odds?
Hungry, and too damn exhausted to contemplate the turn of events, I sprawled on the frilly bed, flipped through the channels, landing on an old episode of Fast N’ Loud, and waited to see if I’d be called again to servitude.
Not that putting Little One to sleep was much of a chore. Hell. Favorite part of my day, to be honest.
Which was bullshit.
Sooner I detached myself from the situation, the better.
A soft rap on the door preceded a fit of giggles. With a groan, I rolled my weary bones and aching muscles off the bed, flipped the lock, and then yanked open the door. Rocky and Mim stood side by side, wearing cheesy smiles, each holding a plate of food.
“Mim said you would be hungry, so we brought you dinner. She also saved her roll for you. She said you liked rolls the best.”
God damn.
Godfuckingdamn.
Only a monster would turn those faces away. I was a dickhead, but I sure as hell wasn’t a monster. I swung the door wider, moving out of the way. “Come on in, then.”
The kids made their way to the small table and laid down the plates. Tango and Slade then filled the doorframe.
“Pretty Boy,” I grunted.
He jerked his chin. “Reynolds.”
“Hey, Blondie.”
“Hi, Dane.” Jesus. That smile. Voodoo. “Hope you don’t mind.” She gestured toward the food. “They insisted.”
Tango cleared his throat. “Rockster, say goodbye to Mim and Dane. We need to head home. Got school tomorrow.”
Fuck, was it Sunday already?
“Aww, Dad. But what about Mim? Who’s she gonna play with?”
Mim scooted behind me, her small fingers gripping the back of my shirt, a meltdown brewing. I gave Tango a look, hoping he could decipher my plea for help.
“Hey, little man, Wednesday’s your last day of school. Then it’s summertime. You can come and play with Mim every day until she goes home, if Grandma and Grandpa say it’s okay.”
“Yay! Yay!” Rocky threw a fist in the air and then jogged around me, wrapping his arms around Mim from behind. “Bye, Mim.” He punched my arm. “Bye, Dane. I’ll see you next time!” He bolted out the door, yelling, “Come on, guys.”
Tango followed his son. Slade lingered, quirking a brow, shooting a quick glance in Mim’s direction. “You gonna be okay in here?”
“Yeah.” I’d never been more comfortable with another human being than I was with the quiet little mouse skittering behind me. Probably because she asked nothing of me, aside from sitting in silence and letting her use my body as her personal shield from the big bad world. Perfect set up. “Moriah know she’s up here?”
Blondie nodded. “She’s coming up after she helps Lettie clear the table.” Astute, questioning eyes blinked at me. “So, you two know each other, huh?”
Wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation.
“See ya,” came out more a warning than a goodbye.
Slade smirked. “Later, Dane.”
Leaving the door open, I turned to find Mim on my bed, kicking off her shoes, her feet dangling over the edge. She eyeballed me, then scrambled to the pillows and tucked herself under the comforter. I tossed the remote her way and settled at the table. God damn it was good to see some color in those cheeks. The sun seemed to make her freckles spread. She twitched her nose, just like her aunt, and hell if a spark didn’t jet through my chest.
The floor creaked, and I turned my attention to the door. Moriah stood in the jamb, as if waiting for permission to enter. I shoved a forkful of roast into my mouth and gestured to the chair next to me. That slender beauty came my way, those hips of hers swaying something ridiculous.
“Hey.
”
“Hey,” I mumbled.
She passed me and headed to the bed. Mim pulled the blankets up to her chin, eyes glued to the big screen.
Moriah sighed, said, “Hi, Mim,” then waited excruciating seconds for a response before giving up and slinking into the chair beside me. She tucked her knees against her chest, heels hooked on the edge of the seat. “So, today was a good day, right?”
Killed me, that look of defeat on her face.
“Hell, she did great.”
“She talked.”
“Seems so.”
She traced a pattern in the wood’s grain. “Why to Rocky, and not us?”
“Don’t know.” I shoved another forkful into my mouth. Chewed. Shrugged. “But progress is progress.”
Moriah looked over her shoulder, then back to me, and whispered, “I want so badly to curl up next to her. Hold her in my arms. It’s killing me not to touch her.”
It was killing me not to pull that woman into my lap, kiss those fucking freckles, hell, kiss every inch until her troubles were forgotten. “She’ll come around.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
She looked so torn, so lost, and she stared at me like I had the answers to life’s problems. I didn’t have answers. I didn’t have a fucking clue.
And because I hated being so helpless in the situation, and there was nothing I hated more than being helpless, I lashed out at the underserving woman. “I look like a God damn shrink?” I whisper growled. “What the fuck do I know?”
That pretty face reddened, eyes narrowed, shooting daggers straight through me. I half-expected a slap across the face. Hell, I hoped for a cold-cock, just so I could feel something other than useless.
She dropped her gaze to the table, shook her head, then swiped underneath her eyes.
Shit. Fuck. Shit. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shoving a roll between my lips.
The door was little more than five strides from the table. I could go. Just get up. Walk out. Never come back. I had zero responsibility in the situation. No ties to the strangers sharing my space. Stand. Walk. Disappear.
Hell, I was halfway gone, until her voice broke my musings.
“Don’t worry about it.” Moriah dropped her feet to the floor and leaned closer. Then she grabbed my fork and dragged the tines through my mashed potatoes before stabbing a slab of roast and shoving the damn thing into her mouth. She chewed. Swallowed. Handed my utensil back, then shrugged. “It’s obvious you care about her as much as I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Neither one of us expected to be in this situation. I’ve never been around kids. You have kids?” she asked.
I shook my head no.
“So, we are the least qualified people to take care of that little angel.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing toward Mim. “I’ve considered slipping away in the night at least fifty times since I’ve met her. I mean, seriously, what do I know about raising a child?”
Huh. Hadn’t expected that reaction.
Moriah picked at her nails. I finished my dinner.
When I mopped up the last of the scraps on my plate, Moriah grabbed my dirty dishes and headed to the sink. She returned with two beers, slapped one into my palm, then made herself comfortable on the couch.
I kicked off my boots and settled on the bed, back against the headboard, legs stretched in front of me. Mim wasted no time burrowing into to my side.
“When do you have to go back?”
Moriah shot a glance my way, then settled those weary eyes on Mim. “One week.”
Silence fell like a wet wool blanket, suffocating us in the heavy, scratchy truth. Seven days was not enough time. Mim would not be ready by then.
Little One and I zoned out to the big screen while Moriah seemed content watching the two of us. I didn’t mind her staring so much.
Before long, Mim was asleep at my side, and Moriah snored on the couch, her legs tucked to her chest, her head at an awkward angle on the armrest. I should’ve carried Mim to her room, but then I’d risk waking the little thing, and then I wouldn’t have reason to keep Moriah in my sights. So, I lay quiet and still, and wondered if the pressure in my chest would ever abate.
# # #
Dawn stretched hazy rays through the open window. A heavy weight blanketed my chest. I lifted my chin, wincing through the pain in my neck, to find two legs draped over me, dead weight. Mim, out cold, arms spread across the mattress, hair everywhere, drool wetting her cheek and blanket under her head.
Coffee fumes perked my senses, and I lifted the limbs, inching off the bed.
The clock read 6:38 AM. Moriah was gone. A fresh pot of coffee sat on the counter, still steaming.
God bless that woman.
I stretched. Poured a cup. Made my way to the window.
Blinding bursts of light danced off the lake’s surface, forcing me to look away.
A small figure stood on the beach, arms wrapped around her middle, a soft breeze blowing her skirt into a tangle around her legs. The sweater she wore hid her figure, but I knew what was underneath that bulky fabric, and hell if it didn’t give me a certain pleasure having that knowledge to store away and revisit as I pleased.
Moriah walked closer to the water, then sat, chin lifted to the sun.
I looked over my shoulder at the sleeping princess. She hadn’t budged.
I poured another cup of coffee and headed, barefoot, down three flights of stairs, out the door, then across the lawn, my heart banging my chest like an angry, caged gorilla.
“Hey.”
Chin to shoulder, she smiled up at me, content and sleepy. “Good morning.” She stared for a moment. “So, is it Dane or Trailer? I’m not sure what to call you.”
“Dane,” I grunted. I fucking hated Trailer and all that nickname stood for.
I handed her the cup, then planted my ass next to her in the wet sand. “It’s effin’ cold out here,” I teased.
“The air is so crisp. I love it.” She took a healthy swig of coffee. “Mim still sleeping?”
“Yeah.”
“One of us should be there when she wakes up.”
“We’ll go back in a minute.” I couldn’t tear my gaze from those damn freckles. Was there such a thing as a freckle fetish? “What are you doing out here alone at the crack of dawn?”
“Got a phone call.” Moriah lifted her cell and then dropped it back in the sand, a sad laugh escaping her lips. She stared, gaze aimed across the lake, shook her head, then rubbed her free hand over her eyes.
“What is it?”
“I no longer have a job.”
“The fuck?”
“Budget cuts. Great timing, huh?”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Not sure. Not yet. I have a little savings, enough to get by for a few months. The job market isn’t great in Shelbyville, and I don’t have a clue what’s gonna happen with Mim.” Her face crumpled. “And I still have to wrap up my mother’s affairs, and oh God,” she moaned. “I haven’t even had time to mourn my sister. And Matthew hasn’t called me once. Not once. You would think after four years together he would at least call. I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to beg me to stay or anything but…” She turned to look at me, those weary eyes glistening, the dam about to break. “Aren’t I at least worth a phone call?”
Jesusfuckingchrist I couldn’t hear another word. I dropped my cup and wrapped my arms around her head and shoulders, pulling her against me. She’d lost her mother. Her sister. Her boyfriend. Her job. And now she was saddled with a child who came with her own heavy baggage. Yeah. I was clueless. Helpless. Had nothing to offer but a shoulder to cry on. What else could I do but let her cry? Better in private with me than in front of Mim or anyone else.
That’s what she did, sobbing softly, using me as a shield.
I watched the waves licking the shore, my nose buried in her messy hair, and waited for her cue. When she lifted a hand to rub her face, I released my hold. The damn woman wrapped an arm around my middle an
d squeezed before sitting straight again.
“Thank you.” She wiped under her nose with her sleeve and shot a glance over my shoulder toward the house. “I can’t let them see me like this. They can’t know that I’m unemployed, or that my life is a mess. They might decide I’m not qualified to take care of my niece.”
“They’re good people,” was all I could offer. “They wouldn’t do that.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. But please, for now, can we keep my current situation between the two of us?”
If she kept pleading with those soft fucking eyes, I’d do anything she asked. And when the hell had I turned into such a pushover? “No problem.”
“We should head back.” Moriah reached across my legs, grabbed my mug, then her own, and pushed to stand.
I snagged her forgotten cell out of the sand and followed her across the lawn.
“Morning.” A gruff voice came over my shoulder when we hit the porch.
I turned to find James Slade, Lettie’s husband, Tucker’s dad. He held his own mug of coffee in one hand, and the morning paper in the other. He smiled the same damn smile as his son, dimples and all. But in his eyes, I saw Blondie. Big and blue and full of zest.
“Morning,” I offered, with a chin nod.
“Morning, Mr. Slade.” Moriah said, her voice still shaky. “You’re up early.”
“Ah, well. Got a ton of ground to cover today. Mower needs a tune-up. There’s a faulty sprinkler head out back.” He huffed. “But first, got some digging to do. Lettie loves her lilacs. Gonna plant a row of bushes out back, so she can see them out the bedroom window.”
“Aren’t you the romantic,” Moriah practically purred. She patted James on the chest, then headed inside.
The old guy blushed.
I nodded and made to follow her, but James cleared his throat. “Dane.”
“Yeah?”
“I know you’re not sticking around much longer, but while you’re here, if you need a change of pace, I could use a hand. You know, with maintenance and such. Tucker helps when he can, but the place is big, and, well, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
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