Hardest part was that feeling was still there, this sensation of coming alive when I was in her space speeding beneath my skin, seeping all the way down to my bones.
Need and lust? Yeah. They were there. No question.
But it was bigger than that.
Something unfound.
Special.
I guessed maybe that’s what it’d always come down to.
Izzy Lane was special.
I huffed off the confusion trying to drag me under and grabbed the box of diapers from the passenger seat, hopped out, and started up the sidewalk just as the front screen door was flying open and banging against the wall.
Mallory Paloma came bounding out at full speed.
If I said Sophie Marie was a ball of energy, Mallory was a tornado getting ready to touch down, though her velocity hit you in an entirely different way.
“Uncle Mack Attack! You’re here! You’re here!”
She clamored down the steps. Well, calling it that was actually a disservice, considering she basically soared off the porch, propelling herself into the air with a leap and a spin, landing in some kind of awkward backward plié. It almost had me dropping the diapers to sprint for her to keep her from falling and cracking her head.
The fumble didn’t even slow her down.
She booked it down the walk and threw herself at me, not even giving me time to adjust the diapers.
I caught her with an oomph, swinging her up into one arm while I tucked the box under the other.
“Hey,” she grinned with all her teeth, arms wrapping around my neck tightly as she leaned the rest of her body back, her pin straight white hair and bangs framing her cherub face.
Yup, another angel, this one with wings.
“Hay is for horses,” I told her, giving her a little tease.
“That’s the oldest joke in all of ever, Uncle Mackity-Yak,” she said, hiking a sassy shoulder.
“Oh, really?”
“How old are you, anyway?” she asked, her blue eyes narrowing in a combination of disgust and sympathy.
“Old enough to know better, apparently,” I mumbled under my breath. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to be cooler the next time I see you.”
“You can try, I guess.” Another shrug. “Not sure how that’s gonna work out.”
Awesome.
I was getting skewered by a 6-year-old.
I just was winning at life, wasn’t I?
“Breaking my heart here, Mal Pal. Breaking my heart,” I grumbled, starting up the walk.
She broke out in a howl of laughter. “I’m playing with you, Uncle! Don’t you know a joke when you hear one? You’re the coolest of all the coolest. At least that’s what my daddy says. Coolest guy around. That’s what he told Mommy.” Her head pitched to the side in consideration. “But that you’re gonna die alone because you won’t pull your head out of your ass. I don’t want you to die so you should definitely pull it out.”
My eyes about bugged out of my skull, and I stumbled to a stop, reminding myself to kick Ian’s ass once inside.
Glad to know I was such an interesting topic of conversation.
Her mouth puckered in an ‘o’. “Oops. I’m not supposed to say that, am I?”
“Definitely not.”
Not the word or that she’d let on that her dad was throwing me under the bus.
“Daddy says bad words sometimes, even the really, really bad ones, usually when he thinks we’re not listening or when he gets stressed out. Like he is right now. It’s a good thing you got here when you did,” she rambled, all matter of fact, that speeding train so easily jumping tracks. “Things are gettin’ crazy in there. Looks like a tornado hit.”
She was totally spot on. I was holding it in my arms.
I feigned a worried frown. “Is that so?” I asked as I mounted the steps.
She gave an emphatic nod. “Yup, that is so. Soph is being a handful again, and Collin is screaming like a banshee, and Daddy-the-Great looks like he might be at his wit’s end. Grams said she is always at her wit’s end, and I don’t think we need to be driving Daddy there, too. It seems like a dangerous place to be. We might need an intervention.”
There she went, round and round and round. Spinning her little disorder.
“An intervention, huh? And what kind of intervention would that be?”
“The kind where everyone listens and does what they’re told to do. You’re a cop. Make it happen, Capin’.”
Amusement had me chewing at the inside of my lip.
“And am I to assume you’re already doing everything right? Following all the rules? No issues there?”
“Hello? Who do you think I am? I do all the things.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “And if I wasn’t, I sure wouldn’t be tellin’ a cop.”
Wow. I was gettin’ concerned this was how criminals were born.
“And what if I had to do a lie detector test on you?” I razzed.
She inhaled a sharp gasp. Clearly what I was offering up was cruel and unusual punishment. “Now that’s just not playin’ fair.”
“Who said life was fair?” I asked with my brows knitted up, trying to keep it light, but feeling the way my spirit wanted to trip into turmoil at the thought.
My own personal regrets and fuck ups on top of the bullshit that I couldn’t control.
Life wasn’t fair.
I saw the truth of it, day in and day out.
And fuck if I wasn’t feeling the weight of it right then.
The kid looked at me with a completely straight face. “Life is not fair. Mom already told us that life can be hard.” Her brow stitched up, clearly struck with an important thought. “But we already got our hero, so it’s not really hard anymore.”
She frowned in worry. “Well, except our hero is about to crack. Our hero needs a hero. You feel like bein’ a hero today?” she asked.
Emotion fisted my heart. Those steel bindings cinching tighter and tighter. Forever holding me prisoner. Didn’t matter that I’d dedicated my life to wiping some of the scum from the city. I’d already committed too many wrongs to earn that title.
I set the little girl onto her feet, and she grinned up at me, so damned sweet and innocent. I could feel the magnitude of it twisting through my spirit, this feeling that shouted out that there was something inside of me that would always feel off.
Something missing.
A piece I couldn’t regain.
I gave a little tug to a lock of her hair.
“Not sure I can reach hero status,” I told her, straight-up honest, “but I definitely think we can help out your dad.”
I stepped through the door into the cozy house. Inside, it was quiet. A distinct contradiction to the mayhem that had been going down in the background during our phone call that made it almost eerie.
My attention darted around as I crossed the living room. Guessed it was the detective in me that had jumped into action, taking note that the place was completely trashed, a fucking mountain of toys strewn everywhere, pillows and cushions tossed from the couch, trails of crumbs leading from one room to the other.
We definitely needed to sneak in a quick clean up before Grace made it home from her writing group.
First things first.
Hitting the swinging kitchen door, I pushed it open, making sure I had a smile pinned to my face. Last thing I needed was to go blurting out what was on my mind, the words a bitter burn on my tongue, vying for release.
But it made no sense to go spouting things I couldn’t change.
For a second, I froze at the archway, feeling a crack go breaking through the middle of me.
Guessed it was witnessing the sight of things turning out the way they should have always been. Something good for a guy who’d been dealt such an unfair life.
Ian was standing in the middle of the kitchen, a sleeping kid nestled in the crook of each arm. From the side, I watched as he gazed down at them, the guy appearing haggard and worn and lacking about a thousan
d hours’ sleep, and still, he looked the fucking happiest I’d ever seen him.
Inhaling deeply, I pushed the rest of the way through.
When he heard me, he shifted all the way around, lips pursing in a silent, “Shh.”
Mallory instantly followed suit, pushing a finger to her lips that had been flapping since the second I’d pulled up.
“Shh,” she repeated before she edged right back out.
I was pretty sure the silence scared her.
I lifted my chin in acknowledgement, quieting my steps as I crossed the kitchen so I could set the box of diapers on the island, stifling a chuckle when I looked at Ian’s infant who was wearing nothing but a towel duct taped around his waist.
“Clever,” I whispered.
“Desperate times, dude. Desperate times. Told you I needed you. Did you think I was joking?”
“You need me to take one of those?” I asked, gesturing for the conked-out kids.
“Please.” Carefully, he transferred Sophie into my arms, that ball of energy completely spent. “If you can get her into her bed for a nap without waking her up, I’ll give you a thousand dollars. Strike that, I’ll give you my car. Hell, you can keep her,” he uttered barely over his breath, shooting me a wink.
Carefully, I cradled her, the sweet thing weighing next to nothing, her little hand coming up to fist in my shirt.
I kissed the top of her head before I whispered over the top of it. “Uh, like your kids and all, but I think I’ll opt for the Mercedes.”
He shook his head at me with a muted laugh. “Asshole.”
I shot him a smirk right as I was turning away, quick to climb to the second floor on the narrow set of stairs that led from the kitchen. At the landing, I headed straight for Sophie Marie’s room. All four walls were painted in pinks and princesses and unicorn magic, a mural depiction from one of the scenes in the children’s book Grace had written.
Pretty fucking awesome, if you asked me, the fact Grace had taken this book she’d used as an escape for her and her kids when they’d been going through the biggest challenge of their lives and turned it into something amazing and successful. You could find it on the shelves of just about every bookstore from here to L.A.
I edged farther inside, trying not to laugh out loud when I heard that tornado touching down again in the next room. Mallory was belting out a terrible pop song at the top of her lungs.
Thank God the walls were thick.
Or maybe Ian and Grace had put a little extra insulation on Mal-Pal’s. Seemed about right.
In some kind of miracle, Sophie only made a few grunting noises when I laid her on her toddler bed before she flopped over and sprawled out facedown.
Down for the count.
I quickly slipped out, leaving the door open a crack, and bounded back downstairs toward the kitchen.
Blinking as I went.
Fighting back the storm I felt gathering at the horizon of my mind.
Didn’t matter.
It grew thicker.
Darker.
More desperate.
Was taking everything I had not to bypass the kitchen and go bolting out the front door.
Drive the ten miles to her parents’ place, sure that was where I would find her.
Just as sure as her dad would be waiting to chase me off with a shotgun.
Didn’t matter that I was a cop, dude was likely to take me down, anyway.
I didn’t blame him for a second. I deserved his distrust.
I’d risk all of that to get one more look at her. Figure out if she was actually as worn down as it’d appeared.
Fix it, if I could. Wondering if she would let me. Knowing I didn’t deserve the chance.
I scrubbed both palms over my face, hoping it would break me out of the muddle of mayhem staging an assault in my mind.
Stepping into the kitchen, I found Ian trying to rip into the box without setting Collin down.
“Need a hand?” I offered, crossing to the island.
“Need about ten of them, apparently.”
“Poor bastard,” I mumbled, eyeing him with a glint in my eye. “Guess that’s what you get for telling your kid I was gonna die alone.”
He just laughed. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly where you’re headed. Don’t worry, man, I’d have been happy to die alone right along with you until I met Grace.”
Funny how my life was filled with all these amazing people and still was utterly lonely. My house was so vacant that sometimes I thought it might swallow me up.
Sometimes I thought Ian could see right into my mind because he frowned. “You know the house next door is for sale. You should think about moving back to Broadshire Rim. Would be awesome to have you nearby.”
“What, you need me close for all the spur-of-the moment diaper runs?”
“Hell, yeah. Like I told you earlier, you’re basically my favorite person.” He pointed at me. “Repeat that, and I will kill you.”
I laughed, brushed my fingers through my hair, and shifted around to lean my hip on the island. Changing the subject, I gestured my chin at him. “Mallory said you were about to crack. Something about being at your wit’s end. You good, man?”
“Almost got there when this little guy crapped again, and I realized there wasn’t a single diaper left in the house. Seriously, how many times can a kid this size poop a day? That shit’s just not normal.” He rocked him protectively against his chest, this little peanut wrapped up in his arms, wearing nothing but that towel.
“Pretty sure all that shit is normal.”
He chuckled again, the sound fading out as he gazed down at his little guy.
Everything inside me softened. Couldn’t help it. Was fucking happy for him. “Looks to me like you had it under control.”
He leaned against the counter, holding Collin closer, not even making a move for the diapers.
Guessed he was riding out the calm. The storm passed. Surprised that they’d all made it unscathed to the other side.
His voice quieted with something close to reverie. “Trying hard, man. Most of the time, I don’t have the first clue what I’m doing. So out of my element. I mean, a year and a half ago, would you have ever imagined this would be my life? And then Grace goes and trusts me to take care of all four kids . . . that kind of responsibility still sometimes scares the shit out of me.”
He blinked a bunch of times. “It’s like, sometimes I pause for one second, and that’s all it takes for every mistake I’ve made, every crime I’ve committed, to catch up to me. Then I’m standing there, wondering how this is my life. How it’s possible I could deserve it. Questioning if I really do. Terrified I’m going to fuck it up.” He looked up at me, his throat bobbing heavily when he swallowed. “And I can’t fuck it up, Mack. I can’t lose them.”
My chest tightened. The bullshit the two of us had endured should have been insurmountable. I’d gone one direction. Ian had gone the other.
He’d paid for his crimes, and he’d come out better on the other side. The guy I’d always believed he could be. The one I wouldn’t second guess to call on for anything.
“Pretty sure she trusts you because she knows you can be trusted, Ian. You’re not gonna fuck it up,” I told him, sincerity bleeding free. “Not when you’re doing it with the right heart. Mistakes don’t mean we’re ruining something. It just means we’re learning. Getting better every day.”
He gazed down at his son. “Just want to do it right.”
We both looked up when his oldest son, Thomas, came shuffling into the kitchen.
Ian had adopted all three of Grace’s kids.
Thomas.
Mallory.
Sophie.
He was right.
He’d been given the greatest gift of all, not to mention that little bonus point of Collin who he cradled tenderly in his arms.
Thomas’s socked feet slid across the wood floor, all of his attention wrapped up in his iPad. He barely glanced up, totally absorbed i
n whatever was on the screen. “Hey, Dad,” he muttered.
When the kid said it, Ian lit up like a lightbulb.
Kind of had one light up in the middle of me, too.
“Did you see that interest rates are expected to go up? Wall Street Journal is reporting it. I think you and Uncle Jace should go for it if you’re thinking about getting something new and you plan on financing. It’s a good time to buy.”
Ian and I shared a glance. The kid was too much. As brainy as they came, always reading all these advanced articles and journals that I wouldn’t have dreamed of reading at that age. Hell, I still didn’t get half the shit he was talking about.
“Oh, hey, Uncle Mack,” he said off-handedly, just then noticing that I was there.
I refrained from using the hay joke on him.
“What’s up, Thomas, my man? I see you’re keeping your dad in line.”
Way cooler, right?
Yeah. I was with Ian. Totally out of my element.
Because I was pretty sure the one I knew about two hookers and a fisherman would be way out of line.
Thomas shrugged a shoulder. “Trying.”
“Come here,” Ian coaxed him softly, and he looked over the kid’s shoulder, reading whatever report it was that Thomas had pulled up. “Whoa, good job finding that. I didn’t hear. Uncle Jace and I need you looking out for us like this.”
Ian dropped a tender kiss to the top of Thomas’ head, lingering a bit, like he didn’t want to let go.
Thomas tipped his head up backward, beaming at him, before he fumbled right back out.
Easy, but the interaction seemed wholly profound.
I met Ian’s eye. “Pretty sure you’re doing it right.” Was doing my best to try to keep my voice from going rough.
That unsettled, sticky feeling hitting me in waves.
“Looks to me like you and Jace might have yourselves a new partner.”
Ian watched as the door stopped its slow swing and fell completely still. “Kid blows my mind. Did we think about stuff like that when we were his age?” he asked as he angled his attention back to me.
A snort blew through my nose. “Hell, no. Pretty sure the only thing either of us were thinking about at that age was the next thing we might be able to swipe without someone noticing or what girl would be game to let us touch their tits.”
Pieces of Us: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel Page 4