by Pandora Pine
Climbing out of the SUV, he went to get Macy.
“Da!” Her little arms went out to him, hugging him close when he pulled her out of the car seat. He could see Maggie had Isla out of her seat.
Walking into the auditorium, his nose was assaulted by the sickening stench of carnations. So many people sent flowers to the house and the funeral home after Stephen’s passing. Most of the arrangements had carnations in them. If he lived to be one hundred, their scent would always remind Riordan of loss.
The flowers were being sold to parents who wanted to reward their little ballerinas for a good performance. He felt a twinge of guilt in his gut. He hadn’t thought to get Isla flowers. It was too late to do it now. He couldn’t. Not with carnations. Not with the death flower.
Reaching the dressing room Riordan’s heart sank again. Men weren’t allowed inside. He started patting himself down, searching for his phone.
“Riordan!” a melodic voice called out. “Sorry we’re late.”
“Hi, Cassie! We just got here too.” Riordan was relieved to see Cassie Craig. She was Laurel’s mother. Laurel and Isla had hit it off and become fast friends when the class had started, much to his relief. She would be able to take Isla inside to finish getting ready.
Both girls were hugging each other like it had been years since the last time they’d seen each other, when it had only been yesterday at the dress rehearsal.
“I’ll take them inside and get them ready to go.” Cassie’s smile lit up the hallway.
Riordan nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to look at Isla, who was giggling with Laurel. “Good luck, honey!”
“Cole and the others are in the auditorium already. We’re having an indoor barbecue at Carson and Truman’s house after the recital. You’re all invited.” Cassie picked up his left hand. “Come. There will be kids there Macy’s age too, plus lots of food and good company.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say no. That had been his go-to answer for so many things over the last year. He knew he couldn’t avoid life forever. “Okay. We’ll be there. Thanks, Cass.”
Her whole face lit up. “You won’t be sorry. My brother-in-law, Truman, is a master on the grill.” She patted his arm. “Okay, girls. Showtime!”
“Bye, Daddy!” Isla waved with her free arm as she walked hand in hand with Laurel into the dressing room.
Riordan smiled as he watched his oldest child giggle with her best friend. He’d spent so much of the last year just trying to get by. Maybe now was the time to take a page out of Isla’s playbook. Making a friend to laugh and hold hands with seemed like a good place to start.
Cassie Craig said there would be a lot of good people at the indoor barbecue today. What did he have to lose?
2
Faulkner
Cold Case Detective Faulkner Hayes, Faulk to his closest friends, Uncle Fuck to the darling little cherub he was here to see, was nervous. He had no idea why. It wasn’t like he was going to have to get up onstage after Laurel’s recital and perform a pirouette of his own. God help everyone if that were actually the case. Not exactly the lightest man on his feet, he sure in hell would give everyone a laugh.
The last seven months of Faulk’s life had been a roller coaster ride. Back in August, he’d been working undercover for the Dragonni crime family when head mob boss, Vito Dragonni’s appeal was assigned a date before the First Circuit Court of Appeals. His captain in Major Crimes wanted him embedded with the family in case Vito won his appeal and was granted a new trial, which was exactly what happened.
Dragonni was released from prison and only days later prominent members of the team that convicted him turned up on a hit list, then started dying. The long and short of it resulted in Faulkner being pulled out of the assignment and asked to guard psychic Tennyson Grimm, husband of Cold Case Detective Ronan O’Mara, whose name was also on the hit list.
His time working with Ronan and his captain, Kevin Fitzgibbon, was fortuitous. Faulk had been looking to get out of Major Crimes and into something a little more sedate, with fewer bullets flying at his head. It turned out Ronan was about to be promoted to sergeant and Fitzgibbon was looking for a bright, personable detective to replace him. Faulk and Fitzgibbon had hit it off and he’d been offered the open spot in Cold Case.
Once the Dragonni case had wrapped up, he’d started training with Ronan on how to work cold cases. It was different in that these cases were years, sometimes decades cold and needed a different touch to handle them. Patience was a virtue in this unit and empathy was a detective’s greatest tool.
As Faulkner settled into his new role in the BPD, he was also settling into his new family. Ronan, Tennyson, and the rest of the West Side Magick gang wouldn’t have it any other way.
While he’d been acting as Tennyson’s bodyguard, Faulk had posed as psychic Harry Atlantis at West Side Magick. He’d been a hit with customers, nearly selling out the store’s inventory thanks to his blonde dye job and bulging muscles. In that time, he’d saved the lives of everyone at the store including Cole and Cassie Craig, when Dragonni’s hit men came to call. Also, in the store that day was their one-month-old son, Brady.
At dinner that night, Faulk had been introduced to Cole’s three-year-old daughter, Laurel, who, for whatever reason had chosen him as her person. She’d had a hard time pronouncing “Faulk” and it had come out as “Fuck” instead. It had been so hard not to laugh when she’d called him Uncle Fuck. Cassie had tried, in vain, to get her little angel to call him Uncle Fall, but it hadn’t worked. Cole had even asked her to call him Uncle Faulkner and that been a worse disaster when Laurel pronounced it “Uncle Fuck-her.” So, Uncle Fuck he remained, at least in private. He hoped.
To be honest, Faulk had fallen just as hard for the little lady as she had for him. As an only child, he was never going to be an uncle the old-fashioned way. With him not having been on a date in forever, the prospects of him becoming an uncle through marriage seemed pretty grim as well. Having Laurel in his life worked out perfectly.
She was the reason he was sitting in the second row of the Witch City Dance Studios’ auditorium. Laurel had been telling him about this recital for weeks, begging him to come and watch her dance. She’d jump up and down, then show him a wobbly pirouette. How could he resist an offer like that?
On his way to the show, he’d stopped and gotten two dozen roses. He didn’t know which color she’d like best so he got two, pink and peach. He’d ask Cassie to tell him which one would be best. The other dozen could go to the dancer who didn’t get any flowers at all.
“Oh good. You came!” Ronan O’Mara was all smiles as Faulk sat next to him. His infant daughter, Everly, was cradled in his arms.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Faulk peered over his shoulder to get a look at the one-month-old. She was a tiny little thing with reddish wisps of hair and blue eyes. “How was it for the two of you getting your little miss out of the house.”
“I think it went well.” Ronan grinned.
Tennyson snorted. “The second time around. We were so nervous about getting Everly bundled up, strapped into the carrier, and put into the new SUV the right way, that we forgot her diaper bag at home. We had to double back for it.”
“At least we didn’t forget the baby.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows at his husband.
Tennyson looked horrified at the very thought.
Faulk’s stomach tightened at the idea of how much responsibility went into being a parent. He was happy being the fun uncle, taking Laurel out for ice cream or to the store for new toys and books. Becoming a big sister had hit her hard. He was glad he could be there to ease the burden for Laurel and her parents.
The auditorium lights started to dim and brighten. Faulk turned to Ronan. “What does that mean?”
“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” Ronan snorted.
Tennyson playfully slapped his husband’s arm. “It means five minutes to showtime.”
Faulkner nodded. He knew this reci
tal wasn’t going to be on par with the Boston Ballet, but he sure as hell was going to clap and praise Laurel like she was the prima-est prima ballerina in the world.
The lights of the auditorium dimmed for the second time. This time they stayed down. The curtain pulled back and the strains of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies began to play.
Faulkner was instantly enchanted as all of the little ballerinas started walking on stage. Some were moving faster than the rest, others were too slow for the music. Some kids were looking for their parents. One little girl was proudly waving to everyone like she was running for public office. Where was Laurel? He scanned through the ballerinas again, but he didn’t see her.
There was a small commotion stage right where the girls had come from. Faulkner thought he could see one little girl encouraging another to come out onto the stage. The first girl started to drag the second one onto the stage. He wasn’t totally sure, but the dragger looked familiar.
Yup, that was his Laurel. The second girl looked terrified and was starting to cry.
Out of nowhere, a man carrying a toddler ran up the stage steps and took the crying girl’s hand. He moved into formation with the child, whose eyes had brightened the second the man bolted toward her.
As much as Faulkner wanted to watch Laurel’s every step, his eyes were drawn to the father who knew every step of the dance. Not only did he know the steps, Dancer Daddy could move. He was in perfect sync with the other girls and the music. All of this while holding a baby, who was probably about eighteen months old. The tiniest dancer had moves of her own. Her little feet were kicking along to the music as her father danced. Faulkner heard her squeal with delight when all of the dancers started to pirouette.
Falkner noticed tiny dancer moved beautifully now that her father was beside her. All signs of her earlier stage fright had evaporated. He could also see the father’s lips moving as they danced together. For a moment, he thought the dad was telling tiny dancer what the next steps were, but from the beaming smile on her face, realized he was keeping up a steady monologue praising her. What a man! What a father!
Damn… If only he could meet someone like that. Kind and caring with a heart as big as Texas. Not to mention with hips made for sin. If that man could move like that on stage, Faulk could only imagine how he’d move in bed.
As the last notes of the song played out, all of the dancers bowed, the hot Dancer Dad included. When the audience started to applaud, so did the tiniest dancer in his arms. He smiled brightly at his little daughter which made Faulk smile in return. His gut tightened, so did his jeans.
Parents in the crowd began to stand, giving the dancers a standing ovation. When Faulk stood too, he could see Laurel hugging tiny dancer, the little girl who’d had stage fright. The girl with the hot dad.
His mind tickled on a name. Iva, Ina, Isla! That was it. Laurel’s best friend was Isla and she’d chatted on and on about how she wanted Faulk to meet her little friend. Faulk was more than willing to do that. The ante was more than upped now that he knew tiny dancer had a smoking hot father who was most likely happily married.
Did that make him an asshole? Probably so.
He had an ace in the hole though. Faulk knew exactly who he was giving the second dozen roses to: Tiny dancer.
“Mommy! Daddy! Uncles!” Laurel’s little voice called out. “We did it!” She held up Isla’s hand like they’d just won a prize fight.
Faulk breathed a sigh of relief. Rather than calling the uncles out individually, she’d gone with the collective name. She was waving wildly from the stage. Isla was too. Faulk waved back. He couldn’t wait until the rest of the recital was over so he could give Laurel a hug and tell her how proud he was of her.
Okay and maybe meet the Dancing Daddy too.
3
Riordan
It had been pure gut instinct jumping up on stage like that with Isla. He’d seen his daughter struggling and he’d leapt into action like Spiderman, minus the spider suit.
Riordan had been to every single one of Isla’s rehearsals and knew all of the steps by heart. They’d done the dance over and over together at home because she loved it so much. It was their special time together when Macy was napping or in bed for the night.
When they practiced at home, Isla never missed a step. What Riordan didn’t understand was what had scared her so badly that she didn’t want to go onstage. He’d have to ask her later when they were alone.
When Isla’s dance was over, he had to go back to his seat for the rest of the recital. There were several other classes left to perform in the show.
It was agony waiting until the end to reunite with Isla, but finally the last dance was over and everyone was emptying out into the lobby to meet their dancers and give them flowers. Shit! He’d forgotten to look for roses and now all of the vendors were sold out. He’d have to find some way to make it up to Isla. She was a good kid, she’d understand, but it was just one more way he’d failed her since Stephen…
Riordan rounded the corner in the lobby and saw a strange man kneeling in front of Isla handing her a dozen pink roses. What the actual fuck?
“Isla?” Riordan asked carefully, not wanting to scare his daughter, even though all kinds of alarm bells were ringing in his head. They’d had the “Stranger Danger” talk before about her taking candy from people she didn’t know but that chat hadn’t included not taking roses from strangers. He honestly never imagined this scenario coming up until Isla was much older, like say, thirty.
“Hey, Riordan!” Cole Craig said, offering his hand.
Riordan hadn’t seen Laurel’s father standing behind the stranger with the flowers.
“Daddy! Look what Uncle Fuck gave me and Laurel!” Isla was exuberant. Her dark eyes glowed with joy and pride.
The stranger’s icy blue eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He stood up quickly, his full height was well over 6’. “I am so sorry, Mr. Quinn,” the giant stranger started to say.
Jesus fucking Christ, here we go again. Just once he’d like to meet someone who didn’t start an introductory conversation by apologizing for his loss. For a city of nearly fifty thousand people, Salem really was more like a small town where everyone knew your business.
“My name is Faulkner Hayes. I’m a member of the Boston Police Department’s Cold Case Unit. My friends call me Faulk and Laurel hasn’t gotten the hang of pronouncing it yet. Please don’t punish tiny dancer for her mispronunciation.” He grimaced.
Riordan found his first smile in what felt like ages. Not only was Uncle Fuck not apologizing about Stephen, he was asking him not to punish Isla for saying a bad word that it obviously wasn’t her fault for saying. “Who’s tiny dancer?”
Faulk blushed. “That was my nickname for your daughter when you were on stage dancing with her. You know, like the Elton John song.”
Riordan froze at the mention of Elton John.
Faulkner’s icy eyes narrowed on him as if they were trying to work out what it was he’d said to earn that look from him.
“We don’t sing that song anymore,” Isla said sadly. “We danced to it the day Papa…”
“Okay, honey, time to go.” Riordan reached for her hand. He started pulling her away from the group of people surrounding Faulkner.
“We’ll see you at Carson’s house, right?’ Cole looked concerned.
“Daddy! I want to play with Laurel!” Isla’s bottom lip started to tremble and her eyes were glassy.
Shit! Hadn’t there been enough tears already? “Okay.” He was too worn out to fight. “We’ll go to the party. Cassie said there would be kids there for Macy to play with too.”
“That’s right,” Faulkner agreed. “Carson and Truman have two-year-old triplets, Brian, Stephanie, and Bertha. I’m sure the four of them will get along like a house on fire.” He turned to the baby Riordan was holding. “You must be Macy. You danced like a little princess today.” He reached for her hand.
Macy squealed and clutched at him.
“Well, hello there.” Faulk readjusted his hold on the baby, giving her a bounce, which made Macy laugh.
“Hi, everyone, sorry we’re late,” a curly-haired man with an infant grimaced. “Our little miss had a big surprise for us.”
“Spoiler alert. It was shit! All the way up her back and down into her footies.” The taller man standing next to him shuddered visibly. “She weighs seven pounds, the shit weighed ten. Can someone please tell me how that’s even possible?”
Riordan snorted and started to laugh. First time parents for sure, he thought. “Here’s another little spoiler alert. Baby physics never make sense. Not to mention the smell.”
The two fathers burst out laughing. “It smelled like she spent last night eating tacos and pickled eggs followed by a beer chaser,” the taller one said. “She’s lucky she’s such a cutie. Ronan O’Mara, this is my husband, Tennyson.” He held out his hand.
“Riordan Quinn.” Ah. These must be some of the interesting friends Cassie mentioned. If memory served, Ronan was a member of the Boston Police Department’s Cold Case Unit where he worked with his husband, psychic Tennyson Grimm. The two of them were locally famous for some of the cold cases they’d solved together over the last few years. He thought one of the cases involved a serial killer. “How old is she?”
“Everly is one month and two days old.” Tennyson beamed.
“She’s a champion shitter, just like her old man.” Ronan’s blue eyes glowed with pride.
“Uh, Ronan, I don’t think that’s something we want to praise her for, especially in public.”
Ronan pressed a kiss to the sleepy infant’s head. He turned to Faulkner. “When did you get a baby? I thought there was something different about you.”