“She neglected them. Never walked Bree to the bus. Never waited for her. Sometimes Bree would come home and the house would be empty and locked. She never said anything—she just picked up the slack in taking care of Brady. Until one day she came home from school and found Brady under the bathroom sink. He’d been in there for God knows how long, screaming. The babysitter said he was being bad and needed to be punished. She’d been putting him there for time-outs. In the dark. Lights off.”
Her eyes grew fierce. “My mom picked up the kids for T-ball, and Bree told her what happened on the way. My mom freaked out and called Bryan. He and Anna were on their way to T-ball, too, but Bryan was so upset he made a U-turn to go to the nanny’s house. He was sideswiped.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that . . . both of their parents were gone. Everyone I loved, gone in a wreck.”
I winced at the tears streaking down her cheeks. A chill snaked down my spine as I thought of Bree and Brady.
“So, here I am, doing the single-mom thing. And my mom . . . she loves those kids and insists on keeping them a couple of weekends a month.”
Her mouth tightened into a grim line, and my expression mirrored hers. My mind was racing with all the information she was giving, but I had no idea what I was supposed to say so I just let her get it all out without interruption.
“She probably figured making Brady play T-ball would get him to focus on something positive, but I guess he connects it to Bryan. Dammit, I should have known better.” She sighed and threw her hands in the air. “And he freaks out about bath time with you because the last person to care for him left him under the sink, so the bathroom scares the shit out of him. And I didn’t know that until you came along because he’s all right with me. It wasn’t right to keep that from you, but I didn’t know how to say it or when it would be the right time. This is so new to me, and I’m still grieving, but I can’t because I have to be strong for the kids. And I needed help.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell them.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Tell them about what?”
“About your leaving. I don’t know how to explain it to them.”
I joined her on the floor and pulled her to my side. “I’m not leaving. You guys need an idiot like me.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, hope in her voice.
“Well, I live with a bunch of people who never had a childhood. And I’m a guy who never grew up. Seems pretty cut and dried to me.”
She laughed and leaned away to look at my face. “Are you sure?”
I knew she wouldn’t understand but, somehow, somewhere along the line, I’d started to see them as family, too. I wanted to fight for this one.
“I’m sure.” I moved her hair off her shoulder. “But I swear to God, Gwen, you lie to me again and I walk.”
She chewed on the inside of her lip. “Okay. Honesty.” She took a deep, trembling breath.
“What is it?”
“Keep in mind that I was kind of freaking out back there at the bar.”
“Okay?”
“I was crying, and everyone was there and hugging me and asking me if I was okay. I was just nodding my head at everything, and I don’t think I even realized that I said yes.”
“To what?”
She sighed and shrugged, her eyes fixed on mine. “To a date with Jimmy on Friday night.”
Chapter 9
Sun King
Jimmy.
Chop.
Jimmy.
Chop.
JimmyJimmyJimmyJimmyJimmy.
Chopchopchopchopchopchop.
“You killed the cucumber,” Bree said softly from the table.
I looked up. “Huh?” Then I glanced at the cutting board. “No salad tonight, then.”
“We don’t like salad anyway.” She had a book open on the table and looked bored with life. “Are you mad?”
“No.”
“It’s not nice to lie.”
I wiped my hands on my pants and walked over to the table to sit down next to her. “Don’t you get tired of being so grown-up, Bree?”
“No.”
“You should go play. Bring a friend over. Have someone spend the night.”
“Why?” Her face was scrunched up in confusion.
“Because it’s fun.”
She shrugged and looked down.
“Let’s do something fun on Friday night. What do you say?”
Bree narrowed her eyes. “Why are you here with us Friday night?”
I decided honesty was the best way to go. “Because Gwen has a date.”
“What?” Her mouth drooped into a frown, and her eyebrows pulled together. “But . . . you like her. Right?”
So much for keeping things from the kids.
“She’s nice,” I said, hoping she’d take it at face value.
“But if she likes another man, will you have to leave?”
Brady shuffled into the kitchen. He looked between me and Bree, his eyes wide.
“Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”
Brady walked over, clung to my leg, and sniffed. “Stay, Dee.”
I pulled him into my lap and lowered my face to look into his eyes. “Promise. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?” I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t leave him alone under the bathroom sink or forget him on the playground. I wanted to assure Bree I would be there when she got home. I would pick her up from ballet class.
But more importantly, I wanted them to do things they wanted to do.
“So what do you think about Friday?” I asked. “I can invite my friend Ian over. We can make pizzas? Watch movies? Your choice.”
“Can you get Gwen to stay home wid us?”
I shook my head. “She made a promise to a guy named Jimmy, and she has to keep her promise.”
Bree slammed her book shut. “Then we’ll get her to stay home.”
The kids and I were trying to play a new game in the living room. They’d insisted on Beatles Rock Band, so I went with it, even though I was beyond terrible at it. I kept missing my notes on the guitar—even though I was awesome at it in real life—and Brady could barely keep up on the drums, but Bree was singing her little heart out. She was a lot better than I’d expected. When the song came to an end, I gave her a nudge with my elbow.
“Look how good you were, Bree. You’re kicking my ass.”
She stepped on my foot and pointed at Brady. “No swears, Dee. We don’t say ass.”
“Sorry. I’ll work on that.”
“You sounded great,” Gwen called, and we all turned to look at her, standing in the doorway from out of nowhere. I hadn’t even realized how late it was. She’d been pulling overtime at work again.
“Come on, Lennon,” I said. “We have a bass for you.” I turned back around and started scrolling through the song list. Gwen picked up the instrument and looked it over once before pulling the strap around her neck.
“I have no idea what to do,” she said.
“Good. Then we’re all on the same playing field. Except Bree, of course.”
“Bryan loved The Beatles,” Gwen whispered into my ear, and I nodded because I already knew.
“I debated on getting this or one of the newer versions. But Bree said they wanted it.” I turned to quirk a brow at the little girl. “I figured some good old wholesome tunes would be good, since she’s been booty-shaking in her room to some unseemly songs.” I leaned into Gwen’s ear and whispered, “There are a ton of songs about blow jobs and threesomes out right now.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Yeah,” I said. “I can’t believe the shi—stuff that’s on the radio these days.”
Her laugh burst from her mouth with such force I thought she’d fall over. “You are such a nerd, Daddy Dee, getting worked up over what Bree is listening to.” She hit me on the shoulder with her plastic guitar.
“Laugh now. She’ll have a boyfriend soon, and then what will you do?”
“Boys are morons,” Bree said with a huff.
&nb
sp; “Hey!” Gwen said. “Where did you learn that word?”
Bree rolled her eyes. “I read.”
“Dee? Nudder song?”
Brady was smiling bigger than I’d ever seen. I went over the basics with Gwen of how to play, and then he chose the next song.
“Last one and you have to hit the sack,” I said. “We have big plans tomorrow.”
Gwen tilted her head in question. “What’s tomorrow?”
Bree sighed. “Your date.”
I dropped my head in defeat. “Bree. Secrets, remember?”
Brady piped up. “Teachew says secwets is bad.”
“They are bad,” Gwen assured him. “It’s not a secret, anyway. Mr. Jimmy is coming to pick me up at seven.”
We all looked at each other and nodded.
“That should be fun,” I muttered.
I hit play on the screen, and Bree tapped her foot in time to the beat of “Eight Days a Week.” Brady hit every third beat, and Gwen sucked beyond belief.
When the song ended, Bree put down the microphone. “Those words were crazy.”
“Give them some slack,” I said. “They’re British.”
“British guys are sexy.” Gwen chuckled.
I cocked my head and looked at Brady. “Hear that, kid? British accents are the bee’s knees. You gotta walk around and say, ‘Oh, ’ello govnah.’ ”
Brady scrunched up his nose and laughed. I grinned and picked him up to carry him up the stairs.
“Bedtime, munchkin. We’re going to the park after school tomorrow. You need rest.”
When Brady and I reached the top of the stairs, I heard Bree’s little voice from down in the living room.
“He’s awesome, Auntie G. We really love him.”
I had to admit it was mutual.
Chapter 10
All Together Now
On Friday, Brady and I picked Bree up from school and headed to the park. Brady was quiet as usual. He grabbed hold of my hand while we walked around the playground before yanking me toward the statues at the center of the field, and then both kids climbed them while I sat in the sunny grass.
I wanted to ask them about their pasts, but I wasn’t a psychologist or anything. I wasn’t even a dad, and I’d be damned if I was going to call mine to ask for advice. So we spent the remainder of the afternoon making small talk and walking around the park. Brady’s grip on my hand was tight, and Bree stayed close to my side. I smiled. They needed me. And I needed them, too.
“What time is it?” Bree asked.
I glanced at my watch. “Almost six.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked over her shoulder at the car. “We have to go!” She took off at a run for the Sterility Coupe, and Brady let go of my hand and ran after her. So I had to jog after them both. How the hell were children so fast?
Bree flicked her hands around in a frenzy. “Come on, we have to get home.”
I looked at her sideways. “What’s up, Bree?”
Brady giggled and clapped his hands over his mouth. “Penguins.”
“Whatever, bud.” I rolled my eyes and then helped buckle them in.
Ian met us at the house, and he had Tess’ son, Joshua, with him. The boy looked to be about six.
I was getting better at guessing ages.
“Big step,” I said with a nod. “How do you have her kid tonight?”
Ian grinned and popped the tab on a soda can. “I’ve been at her house every night this week. I told her you had the kids tonight and that I was coming over. She has a spin class, so she asked me to bring him.”
“Does she still hate me?”
“Well, you’re not on her top ten. I’ll work on her for you.”
I grabbed our bucket of ammunition and we walked out to the front yard while Gwen was busy getting ready upstairs. Brady ran up to me with Joshua in tow—they had black face paint all over their cheeks, and I wondered if it would come off with soap. I mean, I was the one who was going to have to bathe the little marksman.
Yeah, I said bathe.
“Dis is fow us?” he asked and pointed to the bucket.
“Yes. But you don’t start until I tell you, okay?”
“Sweet,” Joshua said, his blue eyes lighting up. He shook his shaggy blond hair and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
The front door opened, and Bree emerged in a black T-shirt and black jeans. “What?” she asked, blushing. “Did you want me to be a princess? I’m Skipper.”
I stifled a smile and covered my mouth. “Of course not.”
“Bree!” yelled a small female voice from down the block. Bree squinted and gave a wave to the little brown-haired girl running across the lawn.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Jennifer. She lives down the street. We ride the bus together?”
Like . . . duh.
“You said to bring a friend,” Bree said. “She’s Private.”
Ian chuckled. “I have no idea what any of this means. I can’t crack the code.”
I called the kids together and gave them their instructions along with their weapons. Then I checked my watch. “Fifteen minutes. War!” I yelled, and the kids scattered over the lawn, hiding behind bushes and trees.
“Did you ever do this shit as a kid?” I asked Ian.
“I still do this shit. If they had invited me, I’d be playing right now.”
A car pulled into the driveway, and I wiped my hands across my face in preparation. “I know Jimmy’s your friend, but I want to murder him with my bare hands.”
“Yeah. I’d want to kill him, too. And he’s not my friend, so feel free.”
Jimmy headed up the walk, and then there was a barrage of screaming and yelling as the kids sprang from their hiding spots. It was almost like it happened in slow motion. Jimmy was running his hands through his long ponytail and adjusting the rubber band. He was wearing a black biker jacket—made of real leather, I presumed. And, to his detriment, he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.
Bree shouted, “Kowalski!”
And, for the record, in slow motion that sounds like Ko-o-o-o-wa-a-a-a-a-lski-i-i-i-i-i.
Unfortunately for Jimmy, water balloons don’t make a sound when they’re being launched. Even eight of them at once won’t give any warning.
The first one hit him in the back of the head and exploded, and his face flew forward with the force. Then they came one after the other in a torrent of bursting rubber and faucet water. He yelled and ducked, but the kids were faster.
“Rico!” Jennifer yelled. “Reload!”
They ran for the remainder of the balloons in the bucket.
I was rolling on the grass, gasping for breath.
Jimmy looked like a drowned rat.
He screamed and waved his hands frantically as the children ran toward him with their new balloons.
The front door opened, and Gwen yelled, “Stop!” She looked at me, wide-eyed. “What are they doing?”
I looked up with tears in my eyes. “Playing Penguins of Madagascar,” I said, nearly choking.
She narrowed her eyes, but I saw a smile twitch at the side of her lips before she pulled herself together. “Enough! Mr. Jimmy didn’t ask to play.”
Jimmy stood, frozen on the walk, his arms over his face to fend off the attack. He was soaking wet and shivering, looking worse for wear and kind of pissed.
I collected myself from the ground and called the kids to my side. They held their chins high and proud.
“Not cool,” I scolded, trying to keep a straight face. “We discussed this. Only people with the paint on their faces are in the game.”
Bree smacked her forehead. “I forgot. Sorry, Dee.” She batted her eyelashes and poked her bottom lip out at Gwen.
I palmed my face and shook with laughter. Jimmy was shaking the water out of his hair and wringing it out of his clothes, and Gwen laid a hand on his arm, for God knows what reason. She turned to me, her eyes apologetic.
“Dee? Do you have some clothes Jimmy could borrow? We have reservations.”
My jaw dropped open, and I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Yep,” I said, turning to see Ian’s shocked expression and the confusion on the kids’ faces. I shrugged. “I’ll meet you at the hallway bathroom, man.”
Gwen may have thought she was being funny, but I wouldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. I ran down to my room and rummaged around in the back of the closet for a pair of old jeans and a button-up dress shirt I never wore anymore. Satisfied, I ran back upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. Jimmy cracked it open and held out his hand, not even saying thank you.
How rude. Even Brady knew to say please and thank you.
When I returned to the front yard, Gwen was reprimanding the kids, though they looked less than impressed with her disciplinary skills.
Even wearing a frown, she looked pretty in a little white dress and heels. Heels I wanted digging into my shoulders while I went down on her.
She turned to me, shaking her head in mock disappointment, and I made a face. Then the front door opened, and I had to bite my knuckles to keep from dying of laughter right there in the grass.
My old jeans were way too long for Jimmy’s legs, and he’d cuffed them at least three times to be the right length. The shirt I gave him was almost too big for me and hung down to his thighs. He looked like a fifth grader wearing his dad’s clothes. God bless him, it was the funniest shit I’d seen in days.
“I guess six inches makes a bigger difference than I thought,” I mumbled, and Ian snickered into his hand.
Gwen slapped my arm and pointed at my face. “Behave.”
I shrugged and looked at the kids. “Come on, it’s time to make pizza.”
They cheered and called goodbye to Gwen as they barreled past Jimmy and through the door.
I walked by and gave him a shrug. “The chick has kids. What can you do?”
Chapter 11
This Boy
I fell asleep with the kids on the pull-out couch in the living room. We’d been watching a movie, and before I knew it, both of them were snoring. Brady was curled into the fetal position on my left, and Bree was sprawled on her back with her head on my chest, her long blond hair spilling down my arm. I was pinned and didn’t want to move for fear of waking them, but I drifted off to sleep before the credits rolled, so it didn’t really matter.
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