“Dane,” she whispered, swiping a thumb under my eye. “Are you crying?”
“Nah.” I coughed, a pathetic attempt to hide the emotion.
But that was fucked. I had no reason to hide from Moriah.
She tapped my chin. “What is it?”
“I’m home.” I kissed her, then wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my nose in her hair. “It’s really fucking good to be home.”
# # #
“What is this place?” Moriah asked, hopping from the truck, those long legs showcased in a pair of cutoffs and worn-out Vans, her breasts bouncing beneath the thin fabric of her T-shirt. No denying, I loved her work attire, all sweet, sharp and businesslike, but damn, she rocked the down-home dirty girl vibe like nobody’s business.
We stood almost dead center of the twenty-plus acres I’d inherited. Land my father had swindled from its previous owners before I was born.
Surrounded by forest, birds chattered over our heads, the river rushed to our right, and speed boat engines droned in the distance.
“This is my...” home, I started to say, but that was no longer the case. “This is where I grew up.” I hooked an arm around Mim, lifted her from the truck, and set her on my shoulders.
“Is that where you lived?” Moriah pointed at the charred remains of the trailer, a skeletal reminder of wicked ways and wayward deeds.
“Unfortunately.”
Mim wrapped her hands around my chin, leaning over my head. “What happened?”
“Burned to the ground,” I grumbled.
“Are you sad?” she asked, her soft, sweet voice worried.
“No, Little Lady.” I gave her leg a squeeze. “Nothing but bad came outta that hunk of metal. It needed to go.”
No further explanation necessary. The reassurance in Moriah’s eyes, her nod of encouragement, told me she understood I’d been the one to torch the place, that the act was cathartic and vital.
“Why are we here?” she asked, sliding her hands into her back pockets, settling her shoulders.
“Trails. Excellent for hiking, but even better for riding.” We started toward the wooded patch of land beyond the trailer. “Soon as Mim gets better on her bike, we can have some fun out here. It’s where I learned to ride.”
“Yesssss,” came from over my head.
Moriah huffed. “Damn motorcycles. You’re giving me gray hairs, you know that, right?”
Mim laughed.
I did, too.
Moriah protested often, though she’d never ask Mim to give up riding. That little girl had blossomed on her bike, the positive effects undeniable.
When we reached my favorite trail, I hoisted Mim off my shoulders. She took off running the second her feet hit the ground.
Moriah and I followed at a leisurely pace. “I’m trying to decide if I want to sell the land, or maybe build a small cabin. Wanted your input.”
“It’s beautiful here, Dane. So quiet and secluded.”
Moriah saw the beauty in everything. Even a lowlife criminal like me. Fucking blew me away, seeing the world through her eyes.
“Lot of shit went down here. Shit I’d rather forget. But for some reason, I’m struggling with letting go.”
Turning to face me, my lady slid her arms around my waist, pressed those tits to my chest, and lifted her chin. “Maybe we can make new memories here. Happy ones.”
We. I loved the sound of that. “Yeah.” I nodded, lost in that hopeful gaze, that assuring smile.
Hand in hand, we explored, until we reached the crest of the largest hill. I grabbed Moriah’s shoulders and turned her toward the lake, pointing over her shoulder. “See that?”
Moriah bent and tilted her head, searching through the thick of trees. “Is that the mansion?”
“Sure is.” From that spot, if you looked right, the mansion was visible across the lake. “As a kid, I used to come here to get away from my father. At that time, the house was vacant. Run-down, yard overgrown. But I used to stare across the lake and pretend I lived in that big old dusty house, with a mom and dad who cared about me.”
“Oh, Dane,” she whispered, leaning against me, a comfort I would never take for granted.
Pity was the last thing I wanted. I’d brought her to that spot for another reason.
“Here’s the thing,” I mumbled into her hair. “Wherever you are, I’ll go. I need to be with my girls. But that mansion is fucking huge. Lettie can’t take care of the place on her own. I found something I’m good at, ya know? I want to be there for her, for the cause, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere.”
“I understand.”
“I’ve talked to Lettie. There’s room for all of us. You, me, Mim. She wants you there as much as I do.”
Moriah spun in my arms, taking a step back. “Move into the mansion?”
“Yeah.”
“Dane. That’s a big step.”
“Far as I’m concerned, it’s the only step.” I rubbed a thumb across that unnecessary wrinkle between her brows, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Plus, when I go on a run with Tuck and Tito, you and Lettie won’t be alone.”
With a sigh, she relaxed, tucking her fingers into my waistband, and pulling me closer. “You’re in this for the long haul, huh?”
“I’m not going anywhere, gorgeous.”
“What about the girls you bring back? How will we explain them to Mim?”
“Gorgeous, who better to help those kids than a kid who’s lived through that shit?”
Releasing me, she stepped back and gnawed her lower lip before saying, “Let me think about it.”
Fuck. Not the answer I wanted, but better than a no. “Yeah. Yeah. Think about it.”
“Think about what?” Mim skipped our way, shoved a handful of white and purple wildflowers into Moriah’s hand, then tilted her head to look at me and repeated, “Think about what?”
“Dane wants us to move into the mansion with him and Lettie.” Moriah bent and made a show of smelling the flowers. “These are so pretty.”
Mim clamped a hand around my wrist, squeezing. “Live at the mansion? Like, live there. With my motorcycle?”
I looked to Moriah for guidance. She offered nothing but a shrug.
“Well, that’s where we keep your motorcycle, so technically, yes, you’d live at the mansion, with your bike.”
“Oh, can we? Please, please, please?” The little angel bounced on her toes and turned to offer her aunt a ridiculous grin.
“Mim. I told Dane I would think about it.”
“So,” she squeaked, throwing her hands in the air.
“So, let me think about it.” Moriah struggled to keep the humor from her voice.
Mim, my little warrior, wasn’t ready to give up. “He already spends the night every night.”
Moriah rose to full height, fisted hands landing on her hips. “Yes, but…”
Mim mimicked the pose, eyes narrowing. “He makes us breakfast every morning and takes me to school.”
“I know, sweetie, but moving in together is a big step.”
I gripped the hex nut, AKA daddy ring, that now hung around my neck on a thick silver chain, rubbing it between my fingers, silently and shamelessly urging Mim to continue.
“MoMo!” The little shit stomped her foot in the dirt like a spoiled child. “I had to take his underwear out of the dryer and fold it.” Her freckled nose crinkled.
“So?”
On an exasperated sigh, Mim threw her head back. “So, doesn’t that mean we already live together?”
I could no longer contain my laughter.
“Okay. Fine!” Moriah threw up her hands. “Fine. You got me. I don’t have to think about it. It just seemed like the right thing to say.”
Mim squealed. Inside, I may have squealed, too.
Seriously, those girls.
Moriah
“Jesus effin’ eff. I can’t believe I’m standing here watching this!” I covered my eyes. Dropped my hand. Hu
ffed. Glared at the starting gate across the dirt track.
“This is insane.” Lettie, too, struggled to enjoy herself on the shoddy wood bleachers, which offered zero shade in the hot August afternoon. “I don’t know if I can look. I should’ve stayed in the car.”
“Seriously,” Tucker piped in, squirming toddler in his arms. “Kids on dirt bikes? What the hell?”
“Dad. Dad! Put me on your shoulders. I can’t see,” Rocky bellowed.
Aida shot a glare at her husband. “You all need to chill. She’s got this. Look at her. She’s the smallest little nugget out there, and all those boys and girls are moving out of her way.”
Tango snorted. “That’s because Dane is right behind her.”
Well, that was true. Dane Reynolds parted crowds everywhere he went.
Tito added, “They’ve seen her race. Those kids know they’re competing for second place.”
Tuuli, Tito’s wife, offered me a reassuring grin.
Tito was right, of course. Mim dominated every track on her practice runs. The girl was a natural, her bike more an extension of her body than a machine she commanded. A beautiful symbiosis.
I, however, was a ball of jumbled nerves, only able to stand because Slade was at my side, holding my hand.
Dane had been right about Mim. She loved to ride, she loved to work on her bike, and she loved to win. On her bike, on any track, Mim was in control, and with that control, under the tutelage of Dane, that little lady was a Titan.
Hence, the team name she wore with pride. Titan Racing. The name decorating the T-shirts we all wore. Even baby Lucia.
Mim and I had moved into the mansion last summer, but in the year that’d passed, with the therapy, her rides with Dane, and the adopted family surrounding us, Mim had conquered her demons, her night terrors gone, her fear of strangers a thing of the past. She’d even advanced a grade in school, and I couldn’t have been happier for the little angel.
The announcer’s voice blared over the speakers, words I couldn’t make out. Motorcycle engines revved. The gate dropped. Mim shot forward, claiming the lead, and keeping the lead. Number 7 challenged her on the third round, but lost ground when she leaned deep, taking a sharp turn, and cutting him off.
Everyone in the stands was on their feet screaming, Rocky the loudest, me in close second.
Slade squeezed my hand so hard my fingers numbed, but I didn’t care, because that was my little girl crossing the finish line seconds before anyone else, and that was my man waiting for her past the checkered flag. And although I couldn’t see Dane, I knew there were tears in his eyes, because that big, scary, bad boy of mine had a heart softer and gooier than roasted marshmallows, and he’d bloomed and grown right alongside Mim. And while I jumped and screamed and cried, celebrating for Mim, Slade squeezed my hand hard enough to crack bones, and when I looked to my left, to beg her to let go, my new best friend was holding her big round belly with her free arm, and bending forward, her face red and pinched.
“Slade?”
She made a weird sound.
“The baby?”
She nodded.
The cheering died down, allowing my voice to rise above the whoops and hollers. “Tango! Tango!” Stretching my free arm around Slade, I poked Tango’s ribs.
He looked down, his eyes going wide when they landed on his wife. “Oh, shit.”
Like he was a hot potato, Tango passed Rocky to Tito, who’d been looking the other direction, thereby nearly dropping Rocky on his head between the bleachers. Thank the good Lord above, Tucker had been standing behind Tito. He caught Rocky by the ankles, sparing him a nasty fall, and possibly a broken neck. Lucia, who had been sitting between Aida and Lettie, laughed at her dangling cousin and pulled his hair, dancing the way only a toddler with baggy diaper butt could dance. Unfortunately, she’d shared a frozen fruit pop with her uncle Tango, and her sticky fingers tangled in her cousin’s thick black mane.
Meanwhile, my purple fingertips were about to pop from the pressure, but the moment Tango wrapped his arms around Slade, she relaxed and released my hand.
“It’s time?” Tango asked.
“Yep.”
“T, it’s time!” he yelled over his shoulder, guiding a very pregnant Slade down the three wooden steps.
“Time for what?” Rocky shouted, still upside down, Aida pulling his hair from Lucia’s fingers one by one, spewing unpleasant words under her breath.
“The baby! Mom’s about to have the baby!” Tango yelled, his voice shaking.
It was then that Charlie, the Truck Stop’s jolly chef shouted, “Yeehaw” and barreled down the steps, scooping Slade up like a bulldozer, and heading toward the parking lot.
“Charlie! What the fuck? That’s my job,” Tango protested, laughing, but yanked his keys out of his front pocket nonetheless and ran ahead.
“I can’t get her fingers out of his hair.”
Tucker sat, laying Rocky across his lap. Lucia giggled, then punched Rocky with her free hand. “We need to go. Anyone got scissors?
“No! You can’t cut my hair,” Rocky cried.
“I’ve got scissors in my handbag.” Lettie sat next to her son and rifled through her very large bag.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Tito piped in. He handed his car keys to Tuuli, who had remained quiet and calm through all of the chaos, then scooped Lucia up by one arm, Rocky by the other, and made his way toward their waiting vehicles.
“Found them,” Lettie shouted, chasing after Tito.
Aida patted Tucker on the shoulder, said, “Good job, cowboy,” then followed Lettie.
Tucker chuckled and chased after his wife.
Tuuli shrugged her shoulders, laughed, then asked, “You need a ride?”
“No. I’ll head back with my crew.” I threw my arms around her small frame.
“We’ll see you at the hospital?” she asked, hugging me back.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I waited for Tuuli to join her husband, then jogged around the outside of the track, finding Mim still on her bike, and Dane kneeling, her head in his hands, their foreheads pressed together. He wore a smile that not even the astronauts could miss, and Mim had her eyes closed, absorbing his words.
As I approached, a tear slithered down her cheek, then another, then she buried her face in his neck and fell against him, sliding off her bike and falling into his welcoming arms. Those were tears of joy, and those tears, that moment, belonged to Mim and Dane. A father/daughter moment worthy of a Hallmark movie, and I fell deeper in love with both them.
# # #
Dane
After seeing Moriah and Mim to the maternity ward, I retreated to the waiting room, unsure if I’d be welcome in Tango and Slade’s private quarters. I paced. Then I ducked outside for some fresh air and room to burn off energy. A cigarette would’ve eased some tension, but I’d promised my girls I’d quit, and I had, hence the pacing.
A warm breeze made a lazy trip across the terrace, cooling my sweaty skin, a temporary relief from the late afternoon sun. I rubbed the ache in my temple, and opted to stand, rather than sit, afraid I’d pass the fuck out if allowed a moment to relax.
I hadn’t slept a wink all night.
Not sure why the thought of Blondie in pain made me so uncomfortable, but I sure as shit wouldn’t have wanted to be in Tango’s shoes for those twelve hours of labor. Had it been me watching Moriah suffer through childbirth? Safe to say, some undeserving object, or person, would’ve fallen victim to my fists.
Baby Raquel was born five hours ago. Mom and child both happy and healthy. No doubt, that little nugget would be a looker, spoiled rotten, and shielded from all the ugly in the world. She was Pretty Boy’s kid after all, and despite my feelings about Rossi, there was no denying, the man took care of his own.
“Reynolds.” A heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
So much for my me time.
“Moretti,” I grunted, offering my hand.
“Hey,” came from Tuck, follo
wed by a fist bump. “What’s up, man?”
“Needed air.”
“Cute kid.” Moretti sighed, roughing a hand through his hair before resting his elbows on the railing and scanning the lot below. “Hope she looks like her mama.”
“Hope she has Slade’s blue eyes.” That came from Tuck, who stood with his hands in his pockets and his gaze to the sky.
“Won’t matter her eye color, she’s gonna be a heartbreaker,” I threw in.
“She won’t be breaking any hearts, ’cause that little angel isn’t leaving the house until she’s thirty.” Tango strode through the door, dark circles under his eyes, cheesy smile on his face, and not one fucking hair out of place. God damn pretty boy.
“Yeah. Good luck with that, cousin,” Moretti teased.
“Congratulations.” I threw him a chin nod, then gestured to his head. “That a gray hair already?”
Tito pulled four Cubans out of his front pocket.
“The hell’d you get those?” Tango asked.
“Stole ’em from your pops.”
Tucker slapped his hands together and gave ’em a good rub. “Well, now’s as good a time as any.”
Tito passed those fuckers out. I briefly considered taking a pass, but fuck, who was I to mess with tradition? Moriah would understand.
“So, who’s next?” Tango quirked a brow, shooting each of us a pointed look.
“One’s more than I can handle,” huffed Tucker, throwing his hands up and backing up a step.
Tito blew a smoke ring. “Tuuli’s got another six years of school. Truth be told, I’m not ready to fuckin’ share her anyway.”
All eyes aimed my direction. “Guess that leaves you.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m good. We’ll leave the baby-making to Pretty Boy.”
Hell, my chest was in a constant state of agony, threatening to crack open with all the feels I had for those girls of mine. I wasn’t sure I had room for more.
Tango chuckled. Stood taller. “Five sounds like a good number. Think I’ll go for five. Three boys, two girls.”
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