In Too Deep

by Dani Collins

  Oh, yuck. Was she throwing up?

  She listened harder. Yeah, that was a cough and a spit and a flush. Gross.

  The water ran. A minute later, she heard a toothbrush going back into its cup. Auntie Wren came out wearing only her underwear. She opened the top drawer of the dresser, which Sky had probably put away wrong. Auntie Wren pushed things around, then put on her peace-sign pajama shirt with her flower pajama pants.

  “Wait,” Sky said, turning off her game. “I want to leave. Tonight.” As the TV went off, the room went dark. Sky tried to click on the lamp, but the switch was set the wrong way on the wall and it didn’t come on. Stupid antique wiring.

  She half expected Auntie Wren to say something like, I want to win a million dollars and go on a cruise. She said that sometimes when she didn’t want to have an argument, but wanted to say ‘no.’

  Tonight, she only said, “I’ve been drinking.” She didn’t even try to turn on her lamp by her bed, just pulled the covers back.

  “Is that why you threw up? Are you drunk?” That was a new Auntie Wren.

  Sky moved to sit on the edge of her own bed, facing her aunt as she tried the lamp on her nightstand. Same problem as the other lamp. Stupid old lodge.

  “I made myself throw up. I don’t want to be hung over.” Auntie Wren climbed into bed and rolled so her back was to Sky.

  Sky refused to take the hint. “Trigg was here. He said I have to have breakfast with him. At seven. It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

  He also said, Skip the makeup and sunglasses. You’re not a real housewife of Montana.

  “Okay,” Auntie Wren murmured.

  “No!” It wasn’t okay. This was the part where Sky understood what burning bridges meant. Auntie Wren might be so mad at her, she would make her do it. “I don’t want to. He said he wants to tell people I’m his daughter. I just want to leave. Can we go? Before breakfast?” She should have started packing. She had meant to. It was just so annoying that he had played so well. She had wanted to figure out how and pack when Auntie Wren got back.

  “They said it would be your decision whether to say anything about him being your dad.” Auntie Wren sounded confused.

  “I know. But he asked me if I knew Sunday was Father’s Day. He said he would ask Vivien to do a press release. That means it’ll go online, right?” He had told Sky to lock down all her social media so no one could creep her once her name got out.

  “Why does he want to do that?”

  She’s one of us.

  “I don’t know,” Sky mumbled. “He was being really bossy and said he would take the diaries if I didn’t clean up—”

  Auntie Wren flopped onto her back. Her eyes held dots of white from the light that came through the closed blinds from the parking lot outside the window, but Sky could tell she was staring right at her, really hard.

  Sky felt squirmy inside. “I didn’t say anything or let him read them or anything.”

  Auntie Wren turned away and let out a breath like she was really fed up.

  “I swear,” Sky insisted.

  “I’ll talk to him before he does anything.” She sounded tired, but sad.

  Sky had thought she would feel relieved when her aunt got back, that all she needed was for Auntie Wren to say she would fix it and all of this would be okay.

  She felt bad for asking, though. Auntie Wren wasn’t saying anything about where she had gone or thanks for cleaning up or sorry she had disappeared or if she was still mad.

  She was mad. That’s why she was lying there with her back turned, but she was still promising to talk to Trigg. That made Sky’s throat feel hot and filled with lumps.

  Should she apologize? She felt like she should, but for what? Making a mess? Reading the diary? Getting so far into her aunt’s face, Auntie Wren had told her something that was so awful, Sky wouldn’t want to talk about it either?

  Maybe she should apologize for making Auntie Wren find Trigg and ruining what they used to have?

  She wanted that again. She had been so angry that Auntie Wren didn’t want to find Trigg. She had pushed and pushed and now she had what she asked for and didn’t want it. She didn’t want Trigg to make her the center of attention and tell her to learn German.

  Did Auntie Wren even want her anymore? Her chest felt like someone sat on it.

  She realized her eyes were wet and scrubbed the damp cuff of her hoodie across them, holding her breath so Auntie Wren wouldn’t know she was crying.

  “Are you waiting for me to fall asleep so you can run away? I honestly can’t take any more right now. I promise I’ll talk to him first thing. Please lie down and go to sleep so I can.”

  Sky’s mouth pulled down at the corners.

  Then she did something really babyish and dumb, but she felt so miserable. She kept thinking of Auntie Wren as a little girl and it made her throat hurt.

  She lifted the covers on this side of Auntie Wren’s bed and lay down so they were back to back.

  Auntie Wren gave a sigh that seemed to shake her whole body. “Thank you.”

  Skylar stared at the drawer of the night table for a long time.

  Chapter Nine

  At six forty-five, with her teeth and hair freshly brushed, Wren texted Trigg and was invited to ‘come up.’ When she got to his room, his door was cracked open with the swing bolt. She knocked lightly and went in, then quickly blocked Murphy from one of his too-friendly greetings.

  Trigg’s was a corner suite, bigger than Marvin and Vivien’s and arranged differently with standard-issue lodge furniture that included a desk, a love seat and an armchair. His bed was unmade and the only other personal touches were the dog bed and his dirty laundry in a basket in the corner.

  Trigg was framed by the open door of the bathroom, jaw covered in shaving cream. Half of it was already swept away by a razor. He wore jeans, but no shirt. His tattoos painted his shoulder, pec and rib cage in evergreen boughs and rocky waterfalls and mountain peaks. His stomach was flat, his feet bare.

  Whew. Was it hot in here? She looked to the window where the curtain billowed along the edge, telling her it was cracked to let in fresh air. Even so.

  He flicked his gaze down her long blue skirt and the yellow button shirt she had left open and knotted over a baby-pink tank.

  “I told her to let you sleep in.” He gave the razor a swirl in the sink and made a face in the mirror, then scraped away more foam. “What’s up?”

  She removed the lever on the door so it closed completely. “Sky said you want to start telling people?”

  “Yeah.” He contorted his face to scritch across his upper lip.

  “But you said it would be her decision. I agree with that.”

  “Yeah, but…” He made her wait while he went after a spot on his cheek. “That never felt right. Now I understand why.”

  “Oh?” Pray tell. She folded her arms, waiting, but he seemed determined to finish shaving before he finished their discussion.

  She should have asked him to meet her in the office. This felt really intimate. She had never watched a man shave and Trigg was a man’s man. Virile. Potent.

  Was this what it was like to be married? How many women had shared that king bed? She bet he was one of those gymnasts who used every corner of the mat.

  She had woken half an hour ago nearly falling off the edge of her twin. Sky was a bed hog and still fast asleep. Despite their fight, Wren had heard the remorse and worry in her niece’s voice last night. Sky wasn’t ready to be outed.

  Wren hadn’t wanted her listening through the door into the office, though. So she had come up here to beard the lion in his den, ha-ha. Who knew it would make her feel so much like a mouse under a heavy paw?

  He bent and splashed water on his face, double-checked his work, then used a hand towel to dry off. He leaned in the doorjamb, flipping the towel onto his shoulder.

  Seriously, did he have a catalogue that showed him how to pose like a rakish sex god?

  And was it her imagination,
or had something in him changed? He still had an aura of dynamic tension, but where she had read animosity before, he seemed charged with purpose this morning, which felt even more dangerous. It was the difference between the lion prowling and growling versus the bunched energy once he had locked on to his chosen gazelle.

  She wasn’t the gazelle, was she? He was looking at her the way he had that first day, without the mask of enmity he’d been wearing ever since. Speculative. Unabashed in how much sex appeal he gave off.

  And she had zero defenses against it. It was as if an invisible wall between them had been dropped. Smashed. His masculinity shone that much brighter and more intense. She could smell him from over here, all spicy with shaving smells and damp skin and man.

  She wanted to look at his tattoos, but got tangled in his hot, blue eyes. So many questions as he searched her gaze, suggested he was seeing her more clearly, more up close, than before. Which was horrifyingly uncomfortable.

  She looked away. Swallowed. Tried to pretend she wasn’t reacting to him when there were definitely more important topics to discuss. “Sky?” she prompted.

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Turns out she’s my kid.” He ran a hand across his hair in a move that was charming in its self-deprecation. “I know the test said she was, but last night I saw it. I get it. She’s mine.” He sounded proud, but rueful.

  A fracture of trepidation went through her. A sense of threat that had always been there, but now grew wider and deeper. Pledged greater pain.

  “I see,” she said carefully.

  “It made me realize I’ve been going about this all wrong. And I don’t usually care if I screw up on the way to getting something right. You don’t master a backside ten-eighty without crashing and burning a few times. Maybe you even break a few bones. But I didn’t see a lot of room for error on this. It’s been stressful.”

  Poor him. She folded her arms, tensing further.

  “But last night I realized what you call ‘acting out’…” he air-quoted with his fingers “…that’s her personality. It’s not going away.”

  Wren stiffened. Stood taller. “That’s not true. You don’t know her. She’s going through a lot.”

  “She ripped your room apart like a gangster sending a message.”

  A stoplight burned hot and red in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about last night, but her protective instincts rose, urging her to downplay and apologize and fix.

  “We had a disagreement.”

  He snorted.

  “She’ll settle down,” she insisted.

  He held up a hand. “We Johanssons never settle. We especially don’t settle down. How long has she been pushing boundaries? Be honest.”

  She squirmed. “It’s natural at her age.”

  “A year?”

  She clenched her teeth, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to give him ammunition. “It’s been a difficult few years. We had to change schools a couple of times.”

  “Why?”

  “I moved out of my parents’ house.”

  “Why?”

  It was like talking to Sky. Like succumbing to a dentist’s drill without anesthetic. Simple answers weren’t enough. More, more, more. Wren clawed for patience.

  “It was always my plan to take full custody. That’s what Mandy wanted, for me to raise her.” She leapt on the opportunity to reiterate that.

  “So there were no problems when you were living with your parents?”

  “Well, it wasn’t ideal. She was a toddler and my parents were getting older. Of course there were times when Sky’s energy level was higher than they appreciated.”

  Her father had learned his lesson after Mandy left, not even using the wooden spoon after that because he didn’t want the police coming around again, or the church making him attend counseling, so he had stayed out of the house altogether. Sky had been exuberant and headstrong, though. Wren had had to run constant interference. Between after-school care, youth group and play dates, Wren had never left Sky at home with her parents without being there herself.

  That was her own baggage, though, trying to keep Sky in her life while sparing her a visit to the inside of the family closet—literally and figuratively.

  Trigg didn’t have to look so smug about it, as if he knew how hard it had been.

  “Maybe she does have a mind of her own,” Wren said. “I happen to think that’s a great quality, especially in a girl. I’m not going to be the one to discourage it.” She still had trouble standing up for herself. She was shaking in her sandals right now and never wanted Sky to feel so intimidated by anyone, especially a man with power over her.

  “Is that what we’re calling it? A mind of her own?” He quirked a skeptical brow, then gave her a condescending smile. “Here’s what I see. Sky is trying to take charge of your two-person pack. You’re trying to lead because you’re the adult, but Johanssons are dominant a-holes who are programmed to take the reins.”

  “Don’t call her that!”

  “A Johansson? She is. That’s what I mean about seeing myself in her. Rolf and I have spent our whole lives living this dynamic, with our dad and with each other. I know exactly what I’m dealing with. That’s why I’m making the decision that it’s time to acknowledge our relationship.” He tapped his chest. “Leaving that decision with her was driving me crazy. I can’t allow a twelve-year-old to hold that over me.”

  “Oh, so the patriarch is exerting control over a girl with no agency?” Confrontation might make her barf, but fighting for Sky was a no-brainer. “Sorry, man, but I won’t let you.”

  “No need to burn your bra,” he drawled. “I’m Sky’s dad. That’s true and I’ll state it loud and proud if I want to.”

  “No,” Wren insisted. Commanded. Begged. “I just told Sky I would stop you.”

  “Feels like you’re dealing with two sides of the same bent quarter, doesn’t it?” He smirked, coming toward her with such smooth menace, she stumbled back a step.

  He opened a drawer in the dresser, gaze staying on her, mirth at her expense indenting the corners of his mouth. It was fascinating and attractive and should have reassured her that this was a friendly conversation. But something playful and male in his body language told her he knew exactly what he was doing with his half-naked masculinity.

  He knew he had power over her. In all kinds of ways. And he was enjoying the hell out of it.

  While she was in danger of losing what was most precious to her.

  “It feels like I’m dealing with someone who isn’t giving due consideration to the damage he’s doing to a child.” If she sounded stuck-up, she didn’t care.

  “She’s not some delicate flower that needs protecting. Trust me when I say that kid has a hide as thick as mine. She can handle everything I’m going to throw at her and I swear she’ll thrive on it. So will I.”

  He pulled the shirt over his head, threading in one arm, then the other, exposing the tufts of hair under his arms, making the muscles on his chest flex, drawing her gaze to his brown nipples.

  “She needs something as hard as I am to push up against or she will continue attacking you. How is that working out for you, by the way?”

  She looked up to his eyes and saw he knew where hers had strayed.

  “She’s attacking me because she feels threatened. By you.” She felt threatened. On so many levels. This wasn’t going the way she needed it to, at all. “I’m not going to make it worse by letting some man take control of her life and break her.”

  His face hardened. “I’m not going to break her.”

  “No, you won’t. Because I won’t let you.” It took everything in her to stand there and say that. He was a man who could squash her if he wanted to, but if she didn’t have Sky, she didn’t have anything.

  “She’s a Johansson. We don’t break. We don’t ask permission from anyone to be who and what we are. And look around.” He pointed in the general direction of the resort. “We’re pretty fucking awesome. She deserves to know
that. She deserves everything I can give her and even more importantly, she needs to understand the expectations and responsibilities that come with being one of us. She needs to know how to live up to who we are.” He came across and pointed at her. “So I’ll tell you what I won’t let you do. I won’t let you deny her that. Not anymore.”

  Wow. A knife to the heart and a twist for good measure. Her pulse was racing with yes, no, stop, go. She fought revealing it.

  “So do you want to lawyer up?” he threatened. “Or go to breakfast?”

  “That—” She pointed at his freshly shaved jaw. “That threat right there. That is why I didn’t want to tell you she’s yours.”

  *

  Wren swung away.

  Trigg grabbed her arm.

  She froze, yet something slammed into him like a punch. Her accusation that he would ‘break’ Sky had been bad enough, but the way Wren braced herself suggested she thought he was going to hit her.

  The floor seemed to shift beneath him. Trigg loosened his hold, lifted his hand away.

  Wren rubbed the spot on her arm with her other hand, pivoting to face him, but stepping back at the same time. Watchful.

  His heart lurched.

  “Did you—” He didn’t even want to say the question aloud.

  It occurred to him that he’d been tapping in a thumbtack with a sledgehammer. It had been a big night. The whole time he’d been mindlessly playing a video game while Sky cleaned up, he’d been trying to process that he was a father. Feeling it, for the first time. Fatherhood was a heavy mantle. He was still shifting under it, trying to figure out how it fit. But the more he accepted Sky as his, the more he mentally took the wheel on how to steer their relationship and the better he felt. It wasn’t in him to back-pedal. Ever.

  Maybe he didn’t have to mow down everyone in his path, though. Last night he’d actually felt some pity for Wren, having to deal with someone as headstrong as he was for all these years.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, tempering his tone.