by Freya Barker
I keep my eyes on the ceiling but can feel her turning in the bed.
“Until?” she asks softly.
“Until after I had you. I’m not sure exactly when it started, but I blamed myself at first. I was a brand-new mom and my support system lived halfway across the country. I didn’t recognize it as postpartum depression at the time. Your father was a busy man, he didn’t adjust well to sharing my attention and forced me to see a doctor, a friend of his, who put me on anti-depressants.”
I roll on my side and find myself looking into my daughter’s identical eyes.
“I saw less and less of him and days would go by where I wouldn’t see or hear from him at all. Whenever I had a chance to question him, he blamed it on me. It took a while, but I eventually started getting angry. I stopped taking the pills without telling him and booked a flight for you and I to go see Gram and Pap. I needed some space to get my head clear.”
She has a pained look on her face and I take one of her hands in mine.
“He wasn’t happy with me when he discovered. Told me, given my fragile mental state, he wouldn’t hesitate taking you from me. Claimed his doctor friend would attest to the fact I wasn’t of sound mind. He threatened if I tried as much as to leave the house with you without his permission, he’d have me committed. I was cut off from Gram and Pap, any friends I’d made. He canceled our landline and took my cell phone. If I wanted or needed to call, he…”
“Oh, Mom,” she sighs.
“I tried to get away, honey. Several times, but I couldn’t risk losing you. Your father worked for some shady characters. Dangerous and powerful people.”
“What do you mean? What kind of people?”
An image of a meeting in Rick’s home office I walked in on, after putting Paige down for a nap, surfaces. The door I’d just pushed open ripped from my hand, and a gun pressed to my forehead was my first real indication my husband’s business dealings weren’t aboveboard. I could read the ruthlessness from the eyes of the goon on the other end of the gun, and I promptly let go of my bladder.
Rick yelled at me. I can’t even remember what he said, but I do remember leaving the room and shutting the door behind me before I ran straight for Paige’s room. He found me there hours later, sitting on the floor in shock, with my daughter in my arms.
“The kind of people you don’t ever want to be associated with, sweetheart. That incident scared the crap out of me, and I was desperately thinking up ways I could get us safely away, but he always seemed to be a step ahead of me.”
“Is that what happened when he had a gun to my head?”
I nod. “I still don’t know how he discovered, but he walked in that night with a bag of necessities I’d been hiding under the back deck.”
“Jesus, Mom.”
I stroke the back of my hand over her cheek.
“That was September fourth.”
Gray
“I thought you said you weren’t going to be in?” Jimmy’s head pops up from under the hood of the Cherokee he’s working on when I walk in. “Robin okay?”
“She’s fine. Her girl showed up. Giving them some space.”
“Her girl?”
“Paige. Her daughter.” I take a look around the shop and notice two other vehicles. “What’s with those?”
“Oil change and tire rotation. Kyle was supposed to get to those, but he’s out with the tow truck. Accident at the on-ramp to Highway 10.”
I grab my coveralls off the peg on the wall and pull them on. May as well make myself useful. Jimmy lifts his chin before ducking under the hood again in silent acknowledgement.
We work in silence with Jimmy’s favorite rock radio station blaring classics, when someone taps me on the shoulder. I jump and swing around, not having heard anyone approach.
I bristle at the sight of a smiling Becca in front of me.
“What do you want?”
She blanches, her face instantly falling at my gruff tone, and behind me Jimmy coughs in warning. Right. Customer service.
“What can I do for you?” I mellow my tone.
“Well…” she drawls, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m having some problems with my car.”
I try to wait her out, but when it appears there’s not more forthcoming and she bats her eyes at me, my impatience finally wins.
“What problems, Becca?”
“Oh, well…it makes an odd noise.”
To stop myself from rolling my eyes I close them, take a deep breath in, and wipe my hands on a rag.
“Let’s hear it.”
Her aging Toyota is parked in the drive outside the bay doors and I walk past her out of the shop. Her footsteps sound behind me as she follows.
“Keys?”
She hands them over and I climb behind the wheel, putting the key in the ignition when the passenger door opens and Becca slides in.
“What are you doing?”
She turns to me with surprise on her face at my snapped question.
“I…uh…assumed we were going for a test drive?”
“Not planning on it,” I grumble, cranking the engine.
“You know, I was thinking—”
I hold up my hand to cut her off, while I try to listen for whatever odd sounds she thinks she hears. There it is, a faint rustling. Leaving the engine running, I pop the hood and get out.
A firm brush of my hand to clear leftover fall leaves from under the vents solves the problem immediately. I slam the hood closed, reach in the driver’s side, and turn off the engine.
“There. Fixed,” I mutter, dropping the keys on the seat before backing out.
I turn to head back to the car I was working on when she calls out behind me.
“Wait!”
Reluctantly I stop in my tracks and wait for her to catch up.
“I was just thinking…do you have something going on New Year’s Eve? We could—”
Aside from the fact Becca clearly still hasn’t gotten the message, she knows damn well I’m seeing Robin, which rattles my chain even more.
“No.”
“But I haven’t even—”
“Doesn’t matter what you have to say, the answer is no. I thought I’d been clear I have no intention of going there. I’m with Robin and you know it, so why you would think I’d be even remotely interested in doing anything with you fucking boggles my mind. Go home, Becca, I’m not interested.”
Jimmy is standing in the open bay door when I approach, and I realize I may have been loud enough for him to hear. I don’t bother looking back when I hear her car door slam and the engine start up.
“Ouch,” Jimmy comments when I reach him. “Harsh.”
“Not a word of a lie.”
“True, but still…”
“Why don’t you take her out then?” I snap.
“Fuck no,” he says immediately, sharply shaking his head.
“Right, that’s what I thought.”
Indicating this discussion over, I dive back under the car I was working on.
It’s late afternoon when the last vehicle is picked up and I head back to my apartment for a quick shower and a change. I strip out of my clothes and dump them on the floor beside the hamper, since it’s already full. I should probably head over to the coin laundry downtown; I’m running out of clean clothes.
A muffled ringing sounds from the pile of laundry on the floor and I scramble to fish my phone from my dirty jeans.
“Hey.”
“Am I disturbing you?” Robin asks, and at the sound of her voice my flaccid cock immediately stirs to life.
I chuckle. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Just about to have a shower. How are things there?”
“Good. Thanks for giving us some time to clear the air.”
“Since I’m the one who overshared, it was the least I could do. Other than to say I’m sorry.”
“Turns out it was a talk that was long overdue, so don’t apologize, I should probably be thanking you.”
�
�Oh?”
There’s a moment’s silence on the other side before she responds in a soft voice.
“I’ll share, just not right now, please? I’m still processing.”
“Sure thing, Sunshine,” I consent easily. “Thought about what you guys want to eat? I’m heading out to get a load in at the Laundromat so I’ll be downtown anyway. I’ll pick something up.”
“Paige is actually cooking dinner.”
Shit. The food had been a good excuse to see her.
“All right, no problem. I’ll…uh…be in touch.”
“Bring it here,” she says, and it takes me a minute to realize she’s talking about the laundry. “Paige is counting on you, and I’m doing laundry anyway.”
“You sure?” I ask, realizing I sound a tad eager, evidenced by her deep chuckle.
“Positive. Your boxer briefs can party with my granny panties.”
“Mom!” I hear Paige’s voice in the background and bite my lip not to break out laughing.
“Oh, keep your shorts on,” Robin mutters at her before addressing me, “Not you.”
I lose the battle with hilarity when I hear her daughter’s outraged cry on the other end.
Fuck, I like everything about this woman. Even the teasing way she interacts with her girl.
“Give me half an hour. Do you need anything from town?”
“I think we’re good here. Paige? Need Gray to bring anything?”
“Gray! Bring me a gag for Mom!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gray
It’s been a couple of days since Paige showed up.
I started keeping a bit of a low profile at Robin’s place when it became clear concern for her mother was only part of the reason the girl cut her visit to Florida short. Apparently the boyfriend—or now ex-boyfriend—turned out to be a spoiled little son of a bitch. His wealthy parents had looked down their noses at Paige after discovering her mother worked at a diner in nowhere Michigan. She hung in there for almost a week, being made to feel inferior, before she packed her bags and told them they could keep their precious boy.
Paige was still a bit reserved around me and I’d slept in my own bed every night, giving them some much-needed time alone. I’ve kept busy at the shop; joining them for dinner a few nights when weather didn’t have us work overtime at Olson’s.
I miss Robin. I never thought I’d be that guy pining over a woman, but I seem to be doing a fair bit of it.
For almost two decades I’ve worn my solitude like a protective cloak and within a few months it’s become an uncomfortable weight I can’t wait to be rid of.
Because of her.
Robin hasn’t yet enlightened me on exactly what the drama was about when her girl first arrived, but with Paige leaving to get back to New Jersey tomorrow, I plan to remind her.
Despite the early hour on a weekend, the diner already looks quite busy when I walk in. My eyes are immediately drawn to Robin, who appears to be dropping an order with the kitchen. When she sees me, I’m greeted with a big smirk and a slight nudge of her head in the direction of Mrs. Chapman’s table. Enzo Trotti is sitting across from her.
I shake my head at Robin, a grin on my face. Then she raises her eyebrows and points at a booth in the back where Paige is sitting by herself staring out the window. Understanding her message, I walk over.
“This seat taken?”
Paige ducks her head and swipes at her eyes. Shit. Not sure how equipped I am to deal with tears.
“Go ahead,” she says in a soft voice.
I slide in the bench opposite her.
“Have you ordered yet?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet.”
I don’t have to look at the menu; I know what I want. Instead I carefully touch the back of her hands, clenched on the table in front of her.
“Not known for talking, but I’m a decent listener.”
She looks at me with the same hesitation I’ve seen on her face the past week.
“I don’t even know you.”
“You haven’t tried,” I counter her snippy comment. It seems to startle her and I use her momentary shock to soften my accusation with, “Please.”
“Men are pigs.” She lifts her chin in challenge.
“Not gonna argue that.”
I struggle not to chuckle, especially when she narrows her eyes on me. Glad to know at least some of her reservation with me is because I’m one of them.
Finally she drops her eyes to her still-wringing hands.
“I called him last night,” she whispers and I lean forward to catch her words. “I’m heading back tomorrow and hoped maybe we could clear the air beforehand.”
“I take it that didn’t go as planned?”
She shakes her head and I notice her swallowing hard before she speaks.
“No. He wasn’t very nice. Said he’d made a mistake. That I’d upset his mother.” She suddenly snorts derisively and continues with a hiss, her eyes shooting fire. “His mother? You should’ve heard what that stuck-up cow said about Mom.”
Fierce little thing is protective of her mother, and I understand her reluctance toward me better. Still, I get the sense she may have held hope he’d come after her.
I reach out again and take her hand in mine, giving it a squeeze.
“He’s a little sniveling weasel, hiding behind his momma’s apron. Clearly he’s no match for you. He’s not man enough.”
She shows surprise, a small, pleased smile tugging at her mouth.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Becca’s voice is like a pitcher of ice water down my back as I straighten to look up at her. I didn’t see her car in the parking lot and assumed she was on a later shift. Guess not.
To avoid my anger rising to the surface, I turn to Paige.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” I ask her, the endearment slipping from my mouth, but before she can answer I feel Becca leaning over the table.
“Oh? Is this a new one already, Gray? Bit young, don’t you think? I guess after all those years in the slammer, you’ve got plenty of pent-up energy to burn off.”
I hear Paige’s sharp intake of breath as she backs away from the table as far as the booth will allow. I thought Robin might’ve mentioned my past to her, but clearly it’s news to the girl. That’ll teach me to assume so much.
“Awww,” Becca drawls, a calculating glint in her eyes. “You didn’t know he’s an ex-con? Murder too.”
I push out of my seat, ready drag her out of the fucking diner but Robin already has her by the arm.
“You’re fired,” she snarls at Becca.
“You can’t fire me,” the bitch sputters.
“The way you’re treating the customers? Absolutely I can.”
“Here, I can help,” Enzo comes walking up, taking Becca’s other arm.
“You’re not very nice,” Mrs. Chapman contributes, leaning out of her booth.
“Let go of me!”
Becca shrugs free and tears her apron off, flinging it in the direction of the counter where Kim stands, glaring at her.
“Key,” Kim says, holding up her hand as Becca stomps past her to grab her stuff. “I’ll need the key.”
I notice the quick glance the bitch throws at Robin before she straightens her shoulders and turns to Kim.
“I lost it.”
With that, she turns on her heel and marches out the door.
The diner is dead silent for a second before people turn back to their meals, and I sit down across from a wide-eyed Paige. She’s not looking at the door Becca just disappeared through, but straight at me.
“Sorry about that,” Robin says approaching our table, and looks from her daughter to me and back. “Everything all right here? Can I put in your order?”
“I lost my appetite,” Paige mumbles, scrambling out of the booth and darting past her mother.
Robin throws me a pained look and takes off after her.
I get up too. Not feeling much like brea
kfast now.
“Don’t let it get to you,” Enzo says when I pass him and Mrs. Chapman.
I grunt in response but keep walking.
Robin
“Hold up!”
Paige ducks into the bathroom, but I’m right behind her, finding her leaning on the sink with her head down.
“Are you insane? Murder, Mom? Do you have a death wish or something? God! You have the worst taste in men.”
Ouch.
That hurt.
I want to lash out, put her in her place, but yelling at each other is not going to improve this situation. I should’ve told her, but she was already so leery of Gray, I really didn’t want to feed into it by telling her his history. Hindsight being twenty/twenty, I should’ve told her right away.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Paige. Don’t make judgments until you have all the information.”
She pushes off the sink and swings around.
“Was he in jail for murder?”
“Second-degree, but—”
“Oh my God, Mom!” Both her hands come up and grab at her hair, a grimace on her face. “I can’t even talk to you right now.” She ducks into one of the stalls and slams the door shut.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back when the door hits me in the back.
“Oops, sorry, dear.” Mrs. Chapman slips inside and turns to face me. “Kim is looking for you. The orders are piling up.”
I groan, looking at the stall door where my daughter is hiding out.
“You go ahead. I’ve got this,” she says placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Mrs. Chapman, I—”
“Go. I’ll look after your girl.”
With one last look at the firmly closed door, I nod at Mrs. Chapman. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through to Paige in this state, but maybe she’ll have better luck.
Kim’s head turns my way when I come down the hallway. A few people are waiting to pay at the counter and the pass-through is loaded with plates. Yikes.
I mumble a quick, “Sorry,” to Kim and grab the first order.