“I thought having a fireman for a dad was the greatest thing ever. I mean there aren’t too many girls who get to brag their dad is a real-life superhero. Then you and mommy started fighting all the time and I would hear her say you loved the job more than her, more than us. Of course, I didn’t believe her. I’d hear her say those words and immediately I would think about all the times you came home from work and walked straight into our room. It didn’t matter if we were sleeping or just waking up, you would come in, tell us you loved us and hug us tight. I knew you loved me.”
“I do love you,” I interject. “Then, now and forever.”
“I know but when you moved out, we started seeing you less and less. I hated it and I began to wonder if you were something else, if you weren’t a firefighter, would you and mom still be together. I started wishing you would quit or even get fired because I thought mom would take you back. I wanted my dad back and I couldn’t understand why you would run into a burning building for someone you never met but wouldn’t come back for me. I know it’s crazy and I know you love me.”
“So much,” I rasp.
“I stopped going to school because I thought if I pissed mommy off enough then maybe she’d kick me out like she kicked you out. Same thing with the drinking. She couldn’t tolerate a working man, surely she wouldn’t accept a drunk as a daughter.”
“Gab, if you wanted to live with me why didn’t you ever ask?”
“Mommy would never let me live with you unless it was her idea.”
“That’s not true,” I argue. “Your mother wants what is best for you.”
“She wants what is convenient,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “What looks good on paper. Come on, Dad. You know as well as I do, mommy would’ve never let me live with you. The only reason she’s agreed now is because I was suspended and she’s had enough of my shit. If I was perfect like Gianna, she would be thrashing all over the place.”
The waitress appears with our food, saving me the agony of agreeing with my daughter. Sad as it is, Lisa wouldn’t have taken it lightly if Gabby had confided any of this to her.
The truth cuts.
Hell, it scars.
Pushing my plate away, I reach for Gabby’s wrist as she lifts her fork.
“Look at me,” I demand softly. “No one is perfect, not you, not me, not your mother and certainly not your sister. Does that make us bad people? No, it makes us human. I’ll talk to your mother. From now on, you’ll stay with me. They’ll be rules. This bullshit with you cutting school and getting drunk ends. When Monday rolls around be ready to do whatever it takes to graduate with your class and come June, I’ll be the proud dad cheering in the stands because you’re going to get that diploma.”
Hiding her smile, she bites the inside of her cheek.
“Am I still grounded?”
“Yes,” I say, releasing her wrist. Not that I’ve really enforced any kind of punishment. “Now eat your dinner,” I add, glancing down at the enchiladas in front of me. I should’ve went with the fucking burrito. I also should’ve ordered a shot of tequila.
“Dad?”
“Yeah,” I reply, grabbing my fork.
“I’m going to need my own bathroom and the Wi-Fi in your house sucks. You should switch to Verizon.”
Make that two shots of tequila and a Dos Equis. Turning my head, I scan the busy restaurant in search of our waitress but my eyes catch a familiar face instead. Sitting across the room with another woman is Gabby’s guidance counselor. The forlorn expression she was wearing at the meeting is gone and as her eyes find mine shock wears on her pretty features.
Features such as those dark brown almond shaped eyes of hers. They’re mysterious and once they latch onto yours, you forget to blink. You forget to breathe. Then there’s her lips. So full and inviting—they make your imagination wander to places you have no business visiting.
She’s got a face you don’t forget.
A face like hers sticks with you.
“Earth to Dad,” Gabby calls, forcing me to blink. Diverting my eyes back to my daughter, I watch as she glances over her shoulder.
“Eat your food before it gets cold,” I mutter, willing myself not to look back at Ms. Moscato. I’m about to lift my fork when Gabby waves across the room.
“That’s my guidance counselor,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reply shoving a forkful of refried beans into my mouth.
“She’s not as mean as she looks and suffers from a severe case of RBF.”
“RBF?” I question, raking my brain for the disease.
“Resting bitch face,” she reveals pointedly. Turning back around, she loads her fork and takes another bite. “It’s not her fault,” she adds with her mouthful. “I hear she’s had it rough.” Before I have the chance to ask how she knows anything about her guidance counselor, she begins to spill all her secrets, reminding me my youngest girl is the one with the big mouth and loose lips.
“My best friend, Sienna lives next door to Ms. Moscato. You remember Sienna, don’t you?”
As she rambles on, I steal another glance at Ms. Moscato and to my surprise she’s staring back.
“Oh my God!”
“What?” I ask, slicing my eyes back to Gabby.
“You’re staring.”
“I am not.”
“You totally are.”
“Gabby.”
“She’s not married.”
“How would you know that?”
“She doesn’t even have a boyfriend.”
Jesus fuck.
“Gabby—”
“She’s got a kid though.”
“Again, how do you know all of this?”
Rolling her eyes, she releases an exasperated breath.
“I told you! Sienna lives next door to Melissa.”
“Melissa? Who is Melissa?”
“Come on, Dad. Keep up! Melissa is her first name.”
Melissa Moscato.
A pretty name to match a pretty face.
A face I can’t keep my eyes off.
Chapter 4
Getting Back on The Horse
Melissa Moscato
I love my sister. Really, I do—just not right now. I should be in bed, curled under the new quilt I won from this ridiculously talented woman named Diane. However, instead of a quiet night binging on Netflix and Halo Top ice cream I’m sitting in Jose Tejas, eating my weight in guacamole. It should be noted that I don’t even like avocados.
Dipping another chip into the creamy dip, I glare across the table at my sister, Amber. Not only did she drag me out of the house but she also finagled my mother into babysitting my son for the weekend. I shouldn’t really make it sound like my mom needs to be swayed to watch Christopher. She offers all the time, I just never take her up on it. It’s part of being a single parent. One minute I’m bitching about not having time for myself and the next I’m crying because I feel guilty over not spending every waking second with my kid.
I swear there are days when I give myself whiplash.
“For the love of God would you please wipe that look from your face,” Amber groans, lifting her margarita to her lips. “And while you’re at it, stop looking at your phone or I swear I’ll take it from you.”
Rolling my eyes, I curl my fingers into a fist and refrain from reaching for my phone. She’s right. Since we were seated fifteen minutes ago, I’ve checked my phone a half a dozen times expecting to see a text from my mother declaring a state of emergency. I reach for my glass and gulp the frozen raspberry margarita like it’s water.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Amber boasts, pointing a finger as I down the rest of the slushy drink. “That’s my sister. I knew she was still in there somewhere.”
Placing the empty glass back on the table, I grab a napkin and wipe my lips as I roll my eyes. She makes it like I used to be this crazy broad who hammered down drinks like it was her job when the truth is, I can barely hold my liquor. She forgets all the times we wen
t out, and she had to hold my hair back as I threw up on the side of the road.
“I’ll order us another round,” she offers, waving for the waiter.
“I’m good.”
“No, the night is young and we’re just getting started,” she argues. The waiter notices Ambers flailing arm and she orders us another round.
“I agreed to dinner, and that’s it,” I remind her. “I’ve got a lot of things to do and I might as well take advantage of Christopher being with mom.”
“Yeah, I bet,” she says sarcastically. “Let me ask you, when was the last time you said fuck it, I’m doing me.”
“When you’re a mother, you don’t get to say that.”
“You’re a mom, Melissa a fantastic one to boot but, you’re not fucking dead.”
Here we go.
I guess I should’ve prepared myself for the usual tongue lashing my sister delivers every time we’re together. I don’t know why I foolishly thought I’d be off the hook. She’s made it her mission in life to torment me.
Okay, so maybe that’s a bit harsh.
Amber doesn’t mean to torture me. She’s trying to get me laid is all. I suppose her heart is in the right place but mine is still stuck in a church, waiting to marry a man who has been gone for nearly five years. Part of me wants to lie to her and tell her I’ve already moved on, that I found some poor unsuspecting stranger to scratch the itch. Maybe then she’ll stop hounding me.
“Chris would want you to be happy, Melissa,” she says. At the mention of his name, I’m jolted away from my thoughts.
“Who says I’m not happy?”
“He wouldn’t want you to just exist,” she continues, ignoring my response. “It’s been five years.”
“Four years and ten months,” I correct, drawing out a breath.
Attempting to avoid her sympathetic stare, I glance around the restaurant. I know she means well and I’m sure if the roles were reversed I would be encouraging her to move on with her life too. But, the truth is I am terrified. When you planned on loving one man for all your days, it’s hard to fathom letting another take his place. It’s finally admitting all those dreams we shared, the life we were building—it all died with Chris. It’s learning to let go of what was and finding the courage to seek what will be. It’s accepting that every ending is another beginning and as terrifying as that may be, my sister is right.
Chris would want me to live.
He’d want me to find love again.
He’d want our son to have a man in his life he could look up to, someone to teach him all the things he never could.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn my head once more and to my surprise, I find Jimmy Casale’s soulful brown eyes staring back at me. He doesn’t make an attempt to break eye contact and I take him in from across the room, watching as he rakes a hand over his salt and pepper hair. A smile flickers across his lips and something deep inside me churns.
I like his smile.
That may not be a big deal to you but, I’ve never allowed myself to appreciate any part of another man in years. It doesn’t end with his smile though and I find myself in awe of the colorful ink that trails up his muscular arms.
Chris didn’t have any tattoos.
In fact, I don’t think he cared very much for them. Me, on the other hand, always loved them and have four of my own. Until Chris, tattoos were always something I admired on a man and as I continue to gawk at my student’s father I can’t help but wish for a closer look. I’m also curious as to where else they may be on his body.
Shit, where did that come from.
“What the hell are you staring at?” my sister questions, twisting in her seat. Snapping out of my trance, I open my mouth to object but it’s too late. Jimmy raises his hand and gives the both of us a wave.
“Holy shit who’s the silver fox?” she asks adding a low approving whistle for emphasis.
“Turn around,” I order through gritted teeth as I give a curt wave back to Jimmy. “Amber! Please,” I hiss, feeling my cheeks flush. “He is the parent of one of my students,” I explain quickly, reaching for the refilled margarita glass in front of me. Amused, Amber lifts an eyebrow and smirks knowingly at me.
“His daughter got into trouble this week and he and his ex-wife had a blowout in front of me. It was awkward as all hell.”
“He’s divorced,” she says, glancing back at Jimmy. “How convenient.”
“Amber.”
“Tell me more,” she demands, turning back to me. “What else do we know about muscle man?”
“Muscle man?”
“Look at his fucking arms.”
I have.
They’re huge.
“He’s a firefighter,” I blurt. “He showed up to the meeting in his gear and when it was time to leave, he put his daughter on the firetruck with him and the guys.”
I have no idea why all that just came out of my mouth and before I divulge anything else—like how good he looked in his bunker gear, I smack my lips together.
“Shut the fuck up!”
To say my sister has a thing for firemen would be an understatement.
Amber slams her palms against the table and tension rolls off me as I watch her release an exasperated sigh.
“We know I love a man in uniform.”
“You love anything with a penis,” I argue.
“This is true,” she agrees with a nod before waving a hand dismissively. “Forget about me though. This is fucking perfect!”
“Excuse me?” I regret the question as soon as it slips past my lips and I watch her push away the empty glass. Folding her hands on top of the table, she steals another long look at Jimmy and grins mischievously.
“It’s time for you to get back on the horse and I can’t think of anyone better suited for your first ride,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
Shaking my head, I dismiss the thoughts creeping into my mind. The alcohol starts to hit me and I grab a stack of napkins from the table. Fanning myself, I lean forward and look my sister dead in the eyes.
“Absolutely not,” I protest.
“Why not? He keeps looking this way.”
“He’s looking over here because you’re making a scene.”
“What’s his name?” she questions ignoring me
“You must think I’m a real idiot. I’m not telling you his name,” I hiss, knowing very well the moment I tell her his name, she’s going to march her ass over there and do something stupid.
“Stop,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t ask you for his girth.”
Sweet mother of God!
“Amber!”
“I bet he’s huge. We’re going to have to get you lube.”
“Jimmy! His name is fucking Jimmy,” I cry out, hoping she’ll shut up.
I catch a glimpse of her smile before I cover my face with my hands and groan.
“I want to go home,” I mumble against my palms.
Amber pulls my hands away from my face and sighs.
“Too much?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
“A little bit,” I reply sarcastically.
“I’m sorry,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to live life stuck on pause. You’re young, beautiful and have so many years ahead of you. I’d hate for those years to pass and for you to look back wishing you had done things differently.”
The humor and good natured teasing leaves her, causing her features to soften and I see the genuine concern reflected in her eyes.
“I know I need to move on,” I rasp with emotion lodged deep in my throat. “I just need to find the guts to do it.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Amber says softly.
“It’s something,” I mutter. She squeezes my hand reassuringly and I sigh, willing the tears not to fall. It’s the first time I’ve said those words aloud and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Does that mean the fireman is up for grabs?�
�
“It means,” I start, diverting my eyes toward Jimmy. To my surprise he’s no longer seated at the table and neither is his daughter. My eyes roam the room looking for them until I hear Gabby behind me.
“Hi, Ms. Moscato,” she greets.
Instantly my sister’s eyes become wide as saucers as I slowly turn and face Jimmy and his daughter.
“Gabriela,” I reply before clearing my throat and offering a tight smile. “Mr. Casale.”
“How you doing, Ms. Moscato?” Jimmy questions, flashing me his smile. For a moment, I wonder if he heard my sister but then he looks at his daughter. “We didn’t mean to disrupt you but, we were heading out and Gabby wanted to say hello.”
“I also wanted to tell you, I’m going to do whatever it takes to graduate,” she announces proudly. “Dad and I talked about it and he said you think I can pull it off.”
“I do,” I reply, lifting my gaze to Jimmy. He winks at me and I swear my chest tightens.
Maybe I do need to get laid.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head and dismiss the crazy notion.
“When you return to school, we’ll meet and devise a plan. Night school will be a must.”
“Whatever it takes,” Jimmy interjects. My eyes slice back to him and again he gives me his smile. “We won’t take up any more of your time,” he continues. “Like I said, Gab wanted to say hello.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you on Monday Ms. Moscato.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I reply.
“Enjoy your night, Ms. Moscato.”
“You too, Mr. Casale.”
“Jimmy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Call me, Jimmy or fucking Jimmy whatever you prefer.”
“But—” The protest dies on my tongue as I realize he overhead my conversation. However, it glides over Amber’s head as she rolls her eyes and chastises me.
Burn Me Anthology Page 8