A Moment of Weakness

by Brooklyn Skye

  Just barely, the woman’s eyes widened. Trouble, surely she wouldn’t want any trouble in here. A curt nod, and she whispered, “Come with me.” She led Laurel down the linoleum hall, past a number of parted curtains, peeking through each one to look for any sign of Micah.

  Finally they came to a halt, the nurse checking the number on the curtain against the clipboard she held against her curvaceous hip. “In there.” She leaned close to Laurel. “And please try to calm him.”

  With a sense of relief filling her, Laurel nodded and quickly slipped through the gap in the curtains. She expected to see Micah lying prone on the bed, with an IV and oxygen tube, of course. The typical first sight of someone admitted to the hospital.

  Leave it to Micah to throw that banality right out of the window.

  Sitting on the bed with a hospital gown bunched around his waist, too tight against his gigantic biceps, Micah grimaced as he tugged at the IV needle taped to the back of his hand. “Are you finally going to let me the fuck out of here?” he spouted, eyes on the whitish tape holding the needle in place. Hastily, he glanced up, his eyes hard and exacting. “What’re you doing here?”

  Not exactly the greeting she had been hoping for. “Ryan called me.”

  His hand stilled and eyes skirted behind her. “Where’s Shae?”

  Despite the stony glower Micah was shooting her and the little voice in her head warning uh, oh, he looks mad, Laurel stepped farther into the room. “I, um, left her—”

  His eyes exploded wide. “You left her?” He ripped the tape off his hand then started on the needle. It slid out without a sound. “Why did you leave her? What if something happens to her?” The heart-monitor pads popped off his chest next, and he threw them to the end of the bed. Frantic—the man looked frantic.

  Hands up, palms facing him, she resisted the urge to throw herself on top of him to get him to stop. “She’s not alone. I left her with—”

  “One job. You were hired to do one job and one job only,” he spat out. Oxygen tube over his head, he stood and swiped off the hospital gown. Every muscle clenching along his brawny torso, he stalked toward her, his face set unyieldingly. “Take care of my daughter. And you left her.”

  Laurel shrank into herself. Jeez, he’s scary when he’s mad. “I know, but I left her with—”

  “I don’t give a shit who it was with!” His jaw ticked. He moved closer, hovering his massive body over hers. “And I don’t give a shit what you told them. All I know,” he lowered his voice and growled, “is that if anything—and I mean any goddamn thing—happens to her, it will be your fault.”

  This was it, Micah’s opportunity for an out. A way to send Laurel back to where she fit—miles upon miles away from him. Deep down he knew Laurel was a great nanny and, once the horrendous images of something happening to Shae dissolved, his thoughts zeroed into a single one that started to grow and swell until it pushed everything else out of his brain. Laurel would be a million times better off without me. Which meant he had to end their time together. Right now.

  He looked down at her now quivering body, lobbing the crushing itch to pull her close and soothe her. To run his hand down her flushed cheek and tell her he was sorry. Standing tall, he stared at the top of her head and said everything he didn’t mean. “I refuse to fail again, and anything short of keeping my daughter by my side at all times is a failure.” He met her eyes, glistening with tears, and yet he continued, his chest breaking farther and farther apart with each word. “You are a failure. Pack your things and go back to the suburbs where girls like you belong.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Above the trees, the sky was transforming. Traces of daylight bleeding into the pitch black of night, turning the middle of the sky a deep blue. Was it really getting close to morning already?

  Laurel rested the top of her forehead against the cool window glass, rocking back and forth as the cab snaked through town toward Micah’s apartment. She didn’t want to wake April, but she needed to talk.

  Through the wetness in her eyes, she found her phone in her purse and dialed.

  “Only someone with a death wish would call me this early,” April mumbled groggily. “You should know that.”

  “Your brother’s an asshole,” Laurel said quietly, emotionally exhausted, but also to maintain what privacy she could in the back of a cab.

  “Well, of course he is. He’s a Crane. Runs in our blood. And did I just hear Laurel Harris swear?” She chuckled.

  She had. And it felt good. She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. He’s the meanest man I’ve ever met. I shouldn’t ever have come here, shouldn’t have agreed to work for him.” In her heart she knew that wasn’t true. Over the last few weeks, she’d grown to care deeply for Shae. Meanest man or not, she was definitely going to miss that funny little girl. The talons clawing into her chest tightened.

  “Because you fell for him?”

  “Because I…what?” Her eyes snapped wide. “No. I didn’t—”

  “Spare me the BS, Laur. If there was one thing I noticed last week at my brother’s bar event, it was the way you looked at him. And the way he looked at you. There is unquestionably something going on between you two.”

  Unquestionably…if that wasn’t an understatement. The problem was, no matter how much the both of them felt—growing closer as both a couple and a family—they’d both known a time stamp had already decided when things between them would end.

  “I may have started to feel something for him,” Laurel admitted as the cab pulled in front of Micah’s apartment complex. “But that was before he yelled at me and told me I was a failure and that he wanted me to go back to where I came from.” Tears pricked her eyes and she wiped at them before digging in her purse for money to pay the driver.

  A pause filled the line, and Laurel suddenly hoped April wouldn’t ask why her brother had said all those things. She may have been upset at Micah, but that didn’t mean she would break her promise to not tell April about Micah’s side jobs.

  “Wow, that’s harsh,” April said as Laurel paid the cab driver and climbed out. “Listen, I know my brother’s a bastard—it’s sort of just who he is. And I’m sorry you had to see that side of him, but one thing you should know is he only reacts that way when he really cares about something. Or someone, if you get my drift. He’ll come around. You just need to give him time.”

  The one—and only—person he cared about was Shae; that much was clear.

  Laurel shook her head. “I can’t give him any more time.” Besides, how could she face Micah after what he’d said to her? “I want to come home.”

  “Not that I want to be the one to slam more bad news in your face, but your room was rented out last week. A really cute, but sort of nerdy-looking guy. Maybe a little older than us. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet, but I’m pretty sure he’s single because I haven’t seen—”

  “April?” Laurel interrupted, stepping up to the door. “Can I stay in your room until I figure out where to go?”

  “Of course. Call me when you’re on your way.”

  Laurel sighed. At least there was one Crane she could count on.

  Inside the apartment, Mrs. Briggs stirred from the corner chair. “How is everything, dear?” she asked quietly.

  Laurel stopped mid–living room, scrambling for some semblance of the truth—lying to someone older than her had to be bad karma, right? She ran her hand over her hair, April’s errant comment about giving Micah time squeezing her lungs. Could she really leave them—Micah and Shae? Over the last few weeks, she’d seen how badly they’d needed her—

  No, not her. Maybe someone, but Micah had made it perfectly clear what he’d really thought of her.

  Failure.

  Failure.

  Failure.

  The word haunted her. Was she?

  She blinked back to the white-haired woman. “Do you think you could stay until morning? Shae’s father likely won’t be released until then—” If he doesn’t get a
rrested for destroying hospital property first… “And I have somewhere I need to be.”

  “Of course, sweetie.”

  “Thank you.” Laurel snatched up one of her blankets from the basket beside the purple couch for the old woman then hurriedly gathered up her belongings and stuffed them into her suitcase, her chest growing heavier and heavier with each item she packed. So heavy, it felt as if the floor might cave in beneath her. Heavy, drowning, yeah the list could go on.

  Tiptoe quiet, she then snuck into Shae’s bedroom and kneeled next to the bed. Telling her she was leaving for good would only upset the little girl, and the last thing she wanted to do was saddle Mrs. Briggs with a hysterical child in the middle of the night. So instead, she kissed Shae on the cheek, whispered that she loved her, and then snuck out.

  The deadbolt on the front door clicked, thunderous in comparison to the silence of the early morning. The door creaked and Micah entered, spotting a blanket-covered Mrs. Briggs asleep in the corner armchair.

  His neighbor… He shook his head. He should’ve known Laurel wouldn’t have left Shae with just anyone.

  Not trying to be quiet, he dropped his keys onto the table, switched on the light, and crossed the room, his black boots thumping with each step. He knelt beside the woman, knowing full well the fucked-up face she was about to wake up to. Those dirt bags hadn’t gotten too many face shots in—a few to the jaw and a boot to his left cheek—but on top of the red stripes gouged into the side of his face, he pretty much looked like something out of a horror movie.

  Micah was lucky that patrolling cop had seen the one-sided fight when he had. Even though every single asshole had gotten away, at least Micah’s unconscious body had made it to the hospital before any permanent damage was done.

  Softly, he tapped the old woman’s weathered-looking arm. “Mrs. Briggs,” he said quietly. Then once again a bit louder. “It’s Micah. I’m home now.” She blinked open her eyes, taking a moment to focus on his face.

  “You don’t look so good, dear.” She sat up and straightened her fluffy hair. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine.” If that wasn’t the biggest lie he’d told all day… He swallowed. “Thank you for watching Shae. I really appreciate it.”

  The woman stood and folded the blanket, her eyes examining his. “That sweet nanny of yours left a little while ago. She was carrying a suitcase.”

  Micah nodded, quickly shoving that image from his mind. The look on Laurel’s face when he’d said those hateful words, pushed her away, was already enough to crumble him. He ushered the woman to the door, thanking her once more.

  The orangey glow of morning sunlight trickled into Shae’s room, splashing streaks along the floor and up the dresser where the framed photo of the three of them—him, Laurel, and Shae—posing with a giraffe sat. No, he hadn’t come in here to wallow. Just to check on his daughter.

  He stepped into the room and, at the same time, Shae stirred. “Daddy?”

  “Shhh, princess. Go back to sleep.” He closed the distance between them and ran his hand over her head. Her eyes fluttered and then locked on his face. Widened.

  Shit, my face.

  A scream ripped from her mouth, loud and trilling. “Why does your face look like that?” Shae scrambled to the far edge of the bed against the wall, shoving her big teddy bear between them. Legs curled to her chest, she screamed again. “Laurel!”

  “No, Shae. Shhh. It’s okay. I’m okay. Just a few scratches.”

  Shae glanced around the room and hugged her knees closer. “Laurel!”

  “Baby,” Micah said in his most calming tone and sat at the edge of the bed to get closer. He took her hand in his. “Stop screaming.”

  “But I’m scared.” Her round eyes skipped around his face, her forehead crinkling with the threat of tears. “I want Laurel.”

  How could he say this? That he wanted Laurel too. And that’s why he’d let her go. Because his world was too dangerous and she had much greater things to do with her life. He cringed with the words, “Laurel’s not here.”

  “Did you kill her?” Her words rushed out so fast and unexpected, it took him a moment to register them.

  “What? No.” How could his own daughter think he was capable of killing someone, let alone someone he cared so much about? Sure he looked like a character from a horror movie, but— Goddamnit. “This is just…” He sighed. “I got into a fight at work. But I’m okay. See?” He forced a smile. He was definitely not okay.

  “Where’s Laurel?”

  No way to ease into this one. And he refused to lie to her, either—not after all the shit he’d been through tonight; he just wanted some honesty. And some dignity. He looked his daughter in the eyes and said, “Baby, I sent her home.”

  “Home?” Shae cocked her head to the side, her voice trembling. “But this is her home.”

  He shook his head, his heart breaking with the sight of his daughter trying to straighten all this out in her mind. She was never going to see Laurel again. His next words drilled in that fact. “This was her temporary home, just while she was working for us and watching you. She went back to her real home. With Aunt April.”

  Silence budded between them, stretching wide and dizzying Micah. And then Shae scowled at him. “How could you be such a shithead?”

  “Princess, don’t cuss,” he scolded automatically. When was the last time he’d had to do that? He knew right away—before Laurel had swept into their lives with her positive attitude, healthy meals, and proper manners.

  A shithead. Dammit, Shae was spot on. He was a shithead. And an asshole. And now he was punishing his daughter for it too?

  He was the failure. Not Laurel.

  “Daddy, I want her to come back. I love her.”

  It was in that moment, staring into his daughter’s tearful eyes, that he knew he did too.

  He kissed his daughter on the head, told her to go back to sleep, then plopped down at the kitchen table with a beer, his phone twirling in his hand.

  He needed to say sorry to Laurel. Needed to get her the remainder of the money he owed her. And most of all, he needed to stop fucking stalling.

  Quickly, he dialed her number and waited, not knowing exactly what he was going to say, but knowing hearing her voice was going to both break him and put him back together again. The phone rang and rang and rang, and his heart sank and sank and sank, and then Laurel’s recorded voice blared into his ear about leaving a message.

  He hung up before the beep and immediately dialed his sister. Only two rings, but it was enough time for the dark thoughts to infiltrate his mind. Laurel had left his apartment a few hours ago—when night still coated the sky. What if something happened to her? What if Russo had been watching and took her—payback for things going awry with the last assignment? Would he ever be able to forgive himself if she received so much as a fucking scratch on her body?

  April answered the phone, and Micah demanded, “Where is she?”

  “Whoa, what are you yelling at me for, brother?”

  “Goddammit, April. Is she there with you or not?”

  One second passed. Then two. At three, Micah’s heart suddenly felt like it was going to burst into millions of microscopic pieces. “Yeah,” she eventually said, low, as if she was trying to keep quiet.

  Micah closed his eyes and released a breath. Thank god. “Let me talk to her.”

  “Micah, do you really think that after you told her off and demanded she get out of your life—and more importantly Shae’s life, the little girl she fell head over heels for—she wants anything to do with you?”

  Hearing his sister’s voice instead of Laurel’s was straining him to the limit. “Just let me talk to her,” he snapped.

  “She called you an asshole,” April spouted into the phone. “And the meanest man she’s ever met. And if you know anything about my best friend, it’s that she hardly ever cusses, so that right there is your answer as to exactly why I can’t let you talk to her.”<
br />
  “I never meant what I said to her, though. She has to understand that.” He scraped his fingernail down the paper label of the bottle, ripping a jagged line through it. “And she has to know that I’m sorry.”

  April let out a high-pitched whistle. “And how does that feel, lying to yourself like that?”

  Lying? “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to, big brother? The girl who grew up in the same cockroach-infested house as you did?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, cringing against the image that brought about. “What does that have to do with you accusing me of lying?”

  She sighed loudly, and by the tone in her voice, he could imagine her ticking off the reasons on her fingers. “One, you’re not the only one who had a drunk for a father who cared about his daily intake of alcohol more than his own children. Two, you’re not the only one who hated every ounce of every minute that he was around us. And three, you’re not the only one who realized at a very young age that we had zero chance at love because we’d never witnessed it ourselves. So, yes, I think when you say you didn’t mean anything you said to Laurel, you’re full of shit. Piles of it. You pushed away my best friend for the very reason you’ve pushed away every other woman who has come into your life.”

  With every one of his sister’s words, Micah’s chest constricted tighter and tighter. His legs grew restless, and he shot out of his chair. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He’d never once thought about his chance at love.

  “Really?” April asked, not sounding at all like she was asking for an actual answer. “Not counting Shae, when’s the last time you told a girl you loved her?”

  Never. He’d never said that to a woman—not even Shae’s mom. They’d dated in college, but that was all it had been.

  Silence filled the line. Filled the kitchen. He leaned his elbows on the counter and ran a hand over his face as April’s voice filled his ear. “That’s what I thought.”