Only In His Sweetest Dreams (Secret Dreams Book 2)

by Dani Collins

  Brit slid her smile into a questioning quirk. “Have you decided whether you’ll build over there and join us?” She jerked her chin at the property beyond Sterling and Paige’s, where his father’s house had stood before it had been burned to the ground.

  Paige had had the yard reseeded and kept it mowed. There wasn’t any evidence of the only home they’d grown up in, such as that home had been. The blankness was strange, but better than the eyesore the house had been.

  “I haven’t made any decisions. If it’ll make you crazy, then yeah, for sure that’s what I’ll do.”

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” She gave him a disgusted look.

  He lifted a negligent shoulder.

  “Oh,” she said softly, and he felt her light hand cup the back of his upper arm. “You’re such a bastard,” she said softly. “When did you get this?” She didn’t touch the fresh ink, but her light hold made him aware his arm was still tender under the skin.

  “The other day.” He glanced at the fairy with the halo-like hair that crackled with life and energy next to the warrior that was Zack, on the other side from the angel with the broken wings. The new sprite looked upward with aspiration, her body crouched and ready to leap into flight, monarch wings unfolding, poised to take her as high as she wanted to go.

  “Just when I think you’re an incorrigible asshole, you do something like that.” She thumped her purse off her lap and onto the deck. “I so didn’t want to do this again, but I guess we should start talking about how we’re going to make this work, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He watched his daughter crouch to examine something in the grass. A slug maybe. He’d had to stop her feeding one to Lizzie Beth yesterday. “I wish I could tell you I don’t want anything to do with her, Brit, but I can’t.”

  She stared at the babies, too. “I know. Why do you think I sent you away?”

  “Because I’m a lousy father?”

  She pulled the face he always thought of as her mother look. A scold. She passionately hated him at times and had wished him dead to his face more than once, but Brit had the biggest heart, she really did.

  “You’re not a lousy father. I just didn’t want this for her. I mean, Zack survived being bounced around, but I’ve built this beautiful, stable little world for Lindsay. Sure, she thinks Paige and Sterling are her second parents, but she knows where she belongs, where she’s supposed to come home to, you know?”

  “Yeah.” He wished he could say the same for himself. He was a guest in his sister’s home and that was fine for now, but the thought of building and living on the street where he’d grown up didn’t give him a sense of stability. It depressed the hell out of him. “And I don’t want to mess her up, Brit. I really don’t. I just wish I knew how to fit in without getting in the way.”

  “That’s not fair. No, I should say, I have never been fair to you,” Britta said. “I know that. I mean, yes, God knows you’ve had your issues, but you’re a good dad, Lyle. The times when it really counted, when Zack really needed you, you were there. And let’s face it, when the only thing I needed from you was for you to get out of town, you did that. Lindsay deserves to have you in her life. Maybe it’s not obvious right now, but at some point, she will need you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true. It’s like when we were married. You are so independent, Brit. Maybe you had to be, because I wasn’t exactly there for you, but I always had this sense that whether I was there or not didn’t matter. So I wasn’t. I went out and got drunk.”

  “And since Lindsay doesn’t need you, you want to go out and get drunk? Is being here making it hard for you to stay sober?” She bit her lip, instantly worried.

  “Being awake makes it hard to stay sober. But no, that’s not the problem. I keep wondering what the hell I’m doing here. Am I making a difference in her life? No.” He took a swig off his root beer.

  “Did I do this? With all those things I’ve said over the years about what I don’t need from you? Have I left you thinking you don’t have anything to offer your kids?”

  “No.” He shook his head, not really lying. “I just sobered up in time for my mid-life crisis.”

  She snorted.

  “Seriously,” he said, because he feared that was part of it. He wasn’t young and stupid and oblivious to his place in the world. He was hyper-aware he hadn’t made one for himself.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said. “I can’t watch Lindsay and Lizzie without thinking of Paige and me and where we came from and how having people in your life that give a shit makes a difference. So then I start thinking of the flip side. If Lindsay is surrounded by people who give a shit, does one more or less matter?”

  Brit propped her elbow on her knee, her head in her hand, and gave him a puzzled look. “Does this have anything to do with those kids in Arizona? Dayton and Ayjia?”

  He jerked, surprised that hearing their names put such a squeeze on his heart. Surprised she knew their names. “Paige tell you about them?”

  “Zack did. No, Paige talked about their aunt.” She tilted her chin with the significance of the statement. “Give it to me straight. Is she younger than me?”

  “Significantly,” he lied. “And has a perfect smile. Natural. Didn’t need braces. She has a huge rack.” He cupped invisible melons in front of his chest. “And stylish? She shops in New York.”

  “And she thinks this sort of routine is witty as hell.”

  He grinned, thinking of wild hair and non-stop freckles and worry-shadowed eyes. With a shrug, he conceded, “She’s had some hard knocks. She was desperate for a laugh.” Had needed one. He wondered if she was laughing much these days. She hadn’t called. He wished she would.

  “Hmph.” Britta turned back to watching babies. “Well, maybe she’ll come see you now that her sister is back.”

  “What?” His heart lurched. Where were the kids? Gone? No. Was Mercedes upset? Should he go to her? Would she come? He should call. No, if she wanted to talk, she’d call. “How in the hell do you know her sister is back?”

  “Zack talked to Holly last night. What’s she like, by the way?”

  “Cute and smart. What did she say? What happened with the kids? Are they gone?” Was that good? He stood, ready to call Mercedes right now.

  “I don’t think much has happened yet.” Britta frowned up at him. “Holly told Zack the mother showed up and Mercedes—is that right?”

  He nodded.

  “Apparently Mercedes is trying to hang on to custody. She had to tell Holly not to let her sister take the kids if Holly was babysitting. Anyway, Zack thought I might be able to help, but I’m not familiar with the particulars of family law in Arizona.”

  “Why in hell didn’t he tell me?”

  “He just talked to Holly last night. I guess he thought he’d tell you tonight when he comes for dinner.”

  Speaking over his shoulder as he went into the house, he ordered, “Watch the kids.” Inside, he reached for the telephone then put it back in the cradle. He went back outside. “Are you okay with the kids? I’m going.”

  Britta blinked. “Where?”

  He glanced at Lindsay, about to pour sand in her cousin’s hair. A tug of divided loyalty jerked and ripped inside his chest. He strode out and scooped up the younger baby, brushed a few grains off the top of her blond head and made sure none had fallen in her eyes. “Sand stays in the box, Lindsay. Not on Lizzie Beth.”

  He dumped the sand off the shovel of the protesting toddler, kissed both babies, handed his niece to Britta, then went to find his wallet and keys, calling back, “I’m going to Arizona.”

  Chapter 25

  Mercedes completely understood where the urge to shoot someone came from.

  “That’s not right, is it, Auntie M?” Ayjia asked, her eyes big and scared, her bottom lip trembling. She had the cordless phone hugged into her neck, but now held it out. “Tell Nana Mommy’s staying here. We don’t need to go there with her.”

  Mercedes took the
phone and ended the call without speaking, resisting the urge to bash the phone on the coffee table until it never worked again.

  Glaring at Porsha, Mercedes dared her sister to pretend this wasn’t a set-up. They had agreed, right in this very room in front of Shonda, not to put the kids in the middle of this.

  “What?” Porsha curled her lip. “Mom wanted me to bring the kids for the weekend. I told her to ask them.”

  “Nana said you won’t let Mommy have us,” Ayjia said, her flat little chest heaving. “She said you want to take us away from Mommy.”

  Dayton stopped clawing through the bucket of Legos and looked between his mother and Mercedes. “What?”

  Mercedes licked her lips, swallowing back temper because Porsha had agreed—she had agreed—that if she regained custody of the children, it would be better for the children if they never knew this had happened at all.

  Porsha was scared, obviously. Terrified that she would lose, so she was resorting to fighting dirty.

  Mercedes wanted to hate her for it, but Porsha was her sister and in any other crisis, Mercedes would be the one Porsha would turn to.

  Nevertheless, she couldn’t let that sway her. Porsha was an adult. The children were children. Mercedes sank to her knees on the floor in front of Ayjia.

  “Your mom and I are trying to work some things out. She can stay here a few more days, but then she wants to go visit her friend in Phoenix. She wants both of you to go with her, but I’d like you to stay here.”

  “But why can’t we all stay here?” Ayjia asked, voice thinning with anxiety. “Mommy, why can’t we stay here?”

  “Because Auntie M’s freak show boss has rules about how long guests can stay.”

  Mercedes fought reacting. Frankly, the new bylaws would work in her favor if she won permanent custody of the children. Porsha could only visit for two weeks at a time, and managers with children—or custody of children—were now welcome and would be accommodated. However, if Mercedes lost custody, but wound up with the kids informally again sometime down the road, she would have some tough decisions to make.

  “But—” Ayjia looked between her mother and aunt, obviously torn.

  “It’s okay, honeybunch,” Porsha said, holding out her arms. “Your school in Phoenix is going to be even better than this one, and Ray has a pool in his backyard. You can use it any time you like.”

  Unsupervised, Mercedes couldn’t help thinking with a chill.

  Ayjia didn’t move to hug her mother. She stepped back when Porsha coaxed, “Come on, baby.”

  Ayjia looked at her brother.

  Dayton knelt with his legs twisted out in uncomfortable looking wings, his gaze flickered back and forth between his mother and aunt, completely still for probably the first time in his life.

  “Ayjia,” Porsha said, leaning forward while hurt cracked her voice. “Come give Mommy a hug. You want to come with me, don’t you?”

  She’s not even six, Mercedes wanted to say. Don’t make her make that choice.

  The magnitude of what Porsha was asking made Ayjia’s breaths grow shaky and her little body twitched.

  Mercedes, still on her own knees, flattened her palms on the floor and leaned toward Ayjia, trying to penetrate the fear paralyzing her small body.

  “I know you want to be with your mommy, honey. I know you love her and want to go with her. But you don’t get to decide if you stay here or go. Even your mom and I don’t get to decide. A judge will decide. You and Dayton are actually really lucky to have two people love you so much that they both want to keep you with them.”

  “But why can’t you just stay here?” Ayjia asked Porsha, tears overflowing her frightened brown eyes.

  “Because I can’t, honey. Come here. Oh, baby.” Porsha stood to scoop up Ayjia and the girl wrapped arms and legs around her mom, beginning to sob openly.

  Porsha sent Mercedes a glare through tear-glossed eyes, one that said, Look what you’ve done.

  Mercedes drew a shaky breath and glanced at Dayton. He had his head down and fingered a few blocks without snapping them together.

  Mercedes crawled over to ask, “You okay?”

  He said something in a whisper so soft, she barely heard him. “I don’t want to go with Mom.”

  Mercedes felt her heart split and break. Pressing a kiss against the boy’s hair, she leaned down to his ear and whispered, “Please don’t tell her that. It would hurt her feelings.”

  L.C. forgot about the time change. It was late enough the complex was dark when he rolled down the Ring Road toward the duplex.

  He had the truck windows open and the dry scent on the velvet air made everything loosen inside him. He glimpsed the flash of a television inside Harrison’s old unit. A poorly parked golf cart sat in a fire lane and the plink of Mr. Costa’s Greek music floated on the breeze. It all made him smile.

  He noted both sides of the duplex were dark—apparently no one had moved into his side yet. He passed the lane that led to the carports in front and kept driving around to the back, thinking Mercedes might have the kids in bed and be reading or watching T.V.

  No, the whole place was dark. He braked at the bottom of the Ring Road. Damn.

  But no, someone sat on the deck. In the weak beam from a far streetlight, he saw a figure tucked into a shadowy corner, sipping a drink and smoking a cigarette.

  Oh, hell. This wasn’t good.

  L.C. cut the engine and dropped out of the truck, approaching with a heavy heart. “Hey, honey, I’m home,” he joked softly.

  “Well, hello, sailor,” an almost familiar voice said. A glass clinked onto the paving stones and the cigarette end glowed brightly while she dragged on it. “L.C., I presume?”

  “Porsha?” he guessed.

  She blew out a stream of smoke that smelled way too good. “Your pleasure to make my acquaintance, I’m sure. Wanna drink?”

  Yup. “No, thanks.” He hitched his hip onto the stone wall, but stayed on the outside of it. “Where is everyone?”

  “Apparently, the last Sunday of the month is movie night in the cantina. You know what I’d like to know?” She pointed her half smoked cigarette at him. “How the hell does Disney get off selling horse racing as family entertainment?”

  “That’s one of those mysteries that’ll never be solved,” he murmured, seeing much in her that once would have appealed beyond resisting. He checked his watch, wondering how long they’d be. It was late for the kids to be up. “Don’t the kids have school in the morning?”

  “School’s out,” Porsha said, slurring just a little. “Time’s up. Big decision is coming down tomorrow.”

  “Oh?” Zack hadn’t known when the court date was set for. He’d only been able to tell L.C. that it was soon.

  “You didn’t know? Isn’t that why you’re here?” She topped up her drink from a bottle beside her lawn chair. “Merce is such a fucking hypocrite. Won’t let Ray near the kids, but she calls you? I mean, what is the fucking difference? I don’t want you around my kids. If you come near them, I’ll call the fucking police. How do you like that? How the fuck does she like that?”

  L.C.’s blood stopped in his veins. He was dying to see the kids. This had to be raking them through pure hell. But he’d be damned if he’d stir the coals up any worse.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ll respect your wishes.” He straightened, worry for Mercedes knotting his innards. He ached to hug them all. “Are, uh, the kids going to court with you tomorrow?”

  “No.” Short and hard.

  “Okay. I’ll check in with Mercedes there then.” He walked back to his truck. “See you.”

  “Not if I see you first, man,” she said behind him.

  “May I kiss you?” Edward asked in a soft whisper when they reached her door.

  The words, do you really want to? hovered on her tongue, along with why? At the same time, soaring delight filled her. She saw Edward every day. He sought her out and every day, they shared some new piece of their soul. How this c
ould happen, why now at her age, she couldn’t fathom, but Edith ached to express this growing regard she had for him. She longed for tender, physical closeness and felt only a little shy about it.

  Silently nodding, she let him guide her into her apartment. He pushed the door half-closed behind them and she heard his sigh of relief as he drew her into his arms.

  It made her smile, so the lips he pressed against hers felt it. He lifted his head before her heart had a chance to leap more than once. “You’re laughing at me? You think we’re too old for this, don’t you?”

  “No, I’m just happy,” she admitted in a whisper. “I’m worried sick about Mercedes and yet you still manage to make me feel happy, Edward.”

  “I wake every morning and wonder how early is too early to call you because I want to hear your voice,” he admitted in a murmur.

  “You do? No one ever wants to hear what I have to say.”

  “I do. You talk to me, Edith. Not mindless exchanges of medical symptoms and what coupon saves you ten cents. You don’t treat me like the dumb old guy down the street. We have real conversations about things that interest me, or that matter to you. I want to be with you all the time. But I don’t want to talk right now.”

  He covered her mouth with his own, his kiss firm and sure, surprisingly demanding for such a quiet-spoken man. And this business of him being so much taller than her; it put a crick in her neck, but she felt remarkably feminine and rather cosseted, being held by such a tall man. No one had taken care of her in a very long time.

  He pulled her against him more thoroughly and she quit analyzing and let herself reacquaint with sensations she hadn’t felt in years. Youthful, heart-palpitating, blood-warming sensations.

  “Mrs. Gar— Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

  L.C. had told himself Mrs. Garvey wouldn’t care for a story about horse racing.

  After interrupting her preferred entertainment, and blurting out a nice romantic profanity, he jerked the door closed behind him and started to walk away. He paused, suddenly horrified, not because he’d just walked in on codgers necking. No, if he could still get it up at that age, he planned to use it, but what if Mrs. Garvey hadn’t been participating in that exchange? He hadn’t taken time to evaluate things, but it wasn’t exactly in-character for her to be playing tonsil-hockey.