I shouldn’t have a favorite of the twins, but since the day she was born, Indie had captured me. Wrapped me around her finger. Maybe it was because she was so quiet, like Declan. Silence was an art, and growing up in such a loud world, a little peace and quiet went a long way. My childhood home had never been quiet enough. Everyone thought because I was the baby, I hadn’t noticed the roar of tension. Liam and my father had always been a collision of sound. But Declan, he was just like Mom, ease personified, darkness and stars. I loved both of my brothers, and without each other, I don’t think we would’ve survived. But it was Declan’s ability to really see me, see through the very soul of a man that made him special, and little Indie was no different.
“I think I can handle you,” I whispered and her fingers wrapped into the fabric of my shirt.
“She’ll fall asleep, you know, and then she’ll be up all night.” Paige’s lips were sly as they reached her eyes.
I lifted Indie into a sitting position, sat her on my knee, and replied with a smile, “I can’t help it that she always falls asleep when I hold her.”
Declan eyed me as he lifted his bag over his shoulder. “You coddle her.”
“She’s my favorite.” I shrugged.
Paige laughed. “You’re horrible. You’ll give Royal a complex.”
“Nah, Liam always buys him all that Harley crap, so someone has to give this poor peanut some attention.” I smirked.
“She gets plenty,” Declan said as he walked toward me. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before raising his eyes to mine. “Remember, let her sleep.” He spoke softly so only I was able hear him.
I nodded my head in silent agreement. Declan must have been satisfied by my response because he turned and kneeled onto the floor where Royal was playing. He scooped him up and stood, bringing his lips to Royal’s cheek. He squealed as Declan buried his beard-covered face in the crook of his neck with a growl. Paige’s gentle giggle lifted my lips into a smile as she approached them.
Royal grabbed a fistful of his father’s beard, causing Declan to chuckle as he uncurled Royal’s fist and said, “I might need to shave my beard off, Royal’s hell bent on ripping it out.”
Paige frowned. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” She balked as she took Royal from Declan’s arms. “You better get going, and call me when you get there.”
“I will.” Their lips met, and again I dropped my eyes briefly, but my smile held.
Declan domesticated and happy was an interesting sight. Tattoo-covered arms and hands, paint-stained fingernails, from the outside you’d never know what a great father he was. What a great man he was to Paige. He’d told me shortly after the babies had been born that he didn’t want to push Paige, and that she’d told him marriage was something that belonged to her past life, that they shared something more powerful than any piece of paper. And watching them in this moment, smiles and warmth—it was as sacred as any Mass I had ever attend.
“So, Kelly said you met a girl?” Paige asked as she plopped down onto the barstool in the kitchen. Exhaustion written in the way her shoulders sagged.
I shook my head. “No privacy in this family.”
Her laugh was breathless as she pulled her hair into a bun.
“That smells amazing.” She nearly sang the last word, and I was grateful for the distraction. Melissa still hadn’t texted back, and I’d sent the message well over an hour ago.
“Jade’s has the best fried rice and cashew chicken and… everything. I hope you don’t mind I ordered for you?” I asked as I scooped rice onto one of the paper plates I had laid out earlier while she was putting the kids to bed.
“I don’t mind at all. I’m just happy they deliver.” Her smile was genuine as she watched me fill her plate.
“I could’ve helped you give the kids a bath. Declan said I had to help as—”
“You did help. You ordered food. And you’re taking night feedings. You’re here, and I’m grateful.” Her cheeks filled with color. The blush getting deeper as I held her stare. “Did he… tell you I… I’ve—”
“I can’t imagine how hard it is to raise a kid, let alone two, at the same time. You’re doing… you both are doing the best you can. I don’t know much about childbirth, but going from no kids to two in the blink of an eye, I think anyone might get a little stressed from time to time.” I glanced up at her briefly and then continued to fill my own plate once the embarrassment faded from her eyes.
“You always say the best things.” She popped a piece of chicken in her mouth and groaned.
I laughed as I sealed the to-go containers. “It’s good shit, right?”
She mumbled a “yes” around her mouthful of food.
We ate in silence for the next several minutes. Her on the stool, and me standing on the other side of the breakfast bar. It felt a little weird, if I was being honest. Paige wasn’t like Kelly, she chose her words carefully, only let you in bit by bit and, not having Declan or the kids around as a buffer, I wasn’t sure what to talk about.
She swallowed a few more bites, and when she looked up at me, the creases around her eyes deepened. “You should sit down.”
“I’m good. I sit all day at work.” I gave her a smile, but her brows dipped farther anyway.
“You never answered my question earlier.” I dropped her gaze. “Kelly said she introduced you to a woman she used to work with, how’d that go?”
I inhaled a deep breath and met her stare. Her features were soft, waiting, not prying, and I figured it might help to have some womanly advice. “Yeah, she seems cool. I had a good time with her at the party.”
She laughed. “Declan said Liam is still moaning about Kemper puking in his bathroom.”
“Be happy you guys weren’t there, it got ugly after that.” My smirk broke into a full, face-splitting grin, as she laughed hard enough she snorted.
“Sometimes having kids as an excuse to stay home is kind of nice.” She filled her fork with rice, but before she raised it to her mouth she asked, “Does she have a name?”
“Who?”
“The girl.” Paige’s tone was a mix between irritation and anticipation.
“Melissa.” I liked the way her name sounded in my own voice. How it hung in the air like it had always been there. Like it belonged to me.
“And have you called her?” she asked around a mouthful of rice.
“I texted her a couple of times, once today, but she hasn’t—”
Just as I was about to say she hadn’t texted, my phone vibrated against the granite countertop. I didn’t want to hope but…
I unlocked the screen and her name danced across it. A slow smile began to build at the corners of my mouth.
“Is it her?” Paige’s voice was filled with the same kind of excitement that had begun to grow inside my stomach, spreading its roots of warmth throughout my body.
I nodded, and when I lifted my eyes from the counter, Paige was standing. “Well… answer her.” She picked up her half-eaten plate and walked around the counter. A huff of laughter escaped my lungs as she shoveled her leftovers onto my plate. “I’m going to take a shower, then probably go to sleep. I’ll give you some privacy.” Her smile was kind.
“It’s just a text message, Paige.”
“It’s how it all begins, though, isn’t it? It’s the best part.” Her sea-glass eyes sparkled. “Say something sweet… women like sweet.” She shifted her eyes to the counter. “First feeding is at midnight. The instructions are by the bottle warmer. If you need me—”
“Piece of cake, go relax.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Relax,” she mused. “I… I don’t think I would’ve been able to be alone tonight, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Anytime,” I said as the sadness crept its way back into her eyes.
“Don’t tell Declan I said that. He can’t… he shouldn’t worry about me.”
“I won’t.” But I raised my eyebrows. “You know he’ll never stop worrying.�
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“I know.” She swallowed and gave me a shy grin. “Text her, and thank you, Kieran, for everything.”
She turned and disappeared down the hall before I could really respond. My eyes drifted to my phone. I wasn’t sure why I was hesitating, maybe I was scared of her rejection. Or maybe I was just scared of her. Scared of how she was burning through me too quickly, of how all I could think about was touching her, and the fear that if I got the chance, I wouldn’t know how, that I would disappoint her. Lust and innocence were enemies and I was no longer on neutral ground.
My mouth had become a desert as I picked up my phone and opened the messages.
Melissa: I admire your persistence.
The beat of my heart echoed within the hollow of my chest. Pushing, beating, breaking against my sternum. Four words, and I had no idea how she felt. Was she flirting? Was she telling me to fuck off? Persistence…
I wet my lips and tapped out my response.
Me: She is the light, and I am the shadow that chases her dawn.
My thumb hovered over the send button. I reread the sentence once, twice, maybe seven times. It was how I’d felt when I saw her that night when I’d walked through Liam’s front door. She’d been beaming, beckoning. Her warm skin, her open eyes rimmed in black, a siren, and the first break of day I’d seen in so long. I pressed send and took pleasure in the thought of her having my words. My lonely words that sat on plain pages without eyes to read them. I wanted her to have my words and, as I set my phone down, I let the feeling drop low into my stomach. That free fall I was high on, I would enjoy it.
The sultry beat of the bass drifted to the background of my mind. All I saw were his words and, as I whispered them to myself, the war raging inside my stomach ceased. “She is the light, and I am the shadow that chases her dawn.”
My pulse drowned out all the distractions of the bar. I didn’t glance up at the patron calling my name. I didn’t hear the vulgarity he spewed when I didn’t answer, my eyes fixated on the screen of my phone. His riddles had me at a loss for words. What should I say next? I couldn’t write shit like that, and I sure as hell thought his effort was wasted on me. But I liked him, and worthy or not, I wasn’t ready to run him off yet.
The guy waiting for his drink said my name again, this time his voice dripping with irritation and condescension. He was leaning halfway over the bar. His dress shirt wrinkled, his tie loosened at the knot. I glanced down to his left hand, and sure enough, a gold band sat proudly on his left fucking finger.
“You talk to your wife with that mouth?” I asked as I set my phone under the bar. I’d text Kieran back after I lost this asshole.
The man’s face was sharp with cheekbones that jutted out almost past his nose. His jaw was angular, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and the muscle beneath tensed at my question. “Don’t strippers work for tips? I’d be nicer if I were you, gotta pay your bills somehow, babe.”
I exhaled a practiced breath. I was used to pricks like this, but for some reason I’d let this piece of shit under my skin. Fury narrowed my eyes as I met his brazen stare. “I’m not a stripper, asshole, and here’s a little tip for you, as well, never fuck with people who make your food or your drinks, you never know what might slip in.” My heart was in my throat, the adrenaline spiking my pulse as I leaned toward him and asked in a sweet voice, “What are you drinking?”
His too-prominent cheeks drained of color and his alcohol-glazed eyes dropped to the bar top. “Gin and tonic.”
I didn’t think a response was necessary, he’d had enough of my attention for the night. I grabbed the bottle of well gin from the back of the bar and made his drink without one glance in his direction. When I slid his drink over the bar top, he handed me a twenty and said, “Keep the change.”
My smirk held firmly even though my heart was still racing inside my chest. Back in the day, I wouldn’t have even barked back at a guy like that. I would’ve danced for him. Instead of making him a drink, I would’ve been on that stage slinging sex for dollar bills, and if Chance was alive he would’ve had me give the guy a hand job for an extra fifty. Drugs cost money. Sometimes Chance and I would blow through at least four hundred dollars in one day. It was disgusting to even think about how we’d thrown away so much money, so much time. My heart finally fell into a normal beat and, as the guy took off with his drink, I thought about what else I’d lost for drugs, and it wasn’t just my morality.
I ignored the stinging in the corner of my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling the strands into a messy knot. The hand on the wall clock seemed to tick in slow motion as I lifted my gaze. Four hours left of this shift, and I wasn’t sure I would make it. I should’ve been done with this place, working full-time for Kelly, but I couldn’t leave Jaime high and dry. Guilt would put me in a grave if I let it. I’d carried it around all my life, it was a tumor, and it continued to grow day by day.
I grabbed a few of the empty glasses sitting on the bar and set them in the sink. The pipes groaned as I turned on the hot water and the sound made me smile. If anything, it was a constant in my life. My life didn’t have many places to anchor, so I should be grateful to Jaime and the home he’d given me here. I plugged the sink and let it fill before I grabbed my phone. I told myself I shouldn’t reply, and I almost hadn’t earlier, but his words… I couldn’t stop my fingers from tapping out a response.
Me: I’m not sure what I like better… your smart mouth or your pretty words.
The edges of my smile touched the heat of my cheeks as I pressed send. I didn’t expect a quick reply, but before I could set the phone down it vibrated in my hand.
Cabrón: I’m partial to being a smart ass, but I hear the ladies kind of dig the romantic shit.
A laugh broke past my lips.
Me: I don’t think romantic and shit should ever be in the same sentence.
Cabrón: Noted.
Cabrón: So, did you decide?
My bottom lip was pinched between my teeth as my eyes scanned the bar. One of the newer girls was bent over shaking her ass to some horrible rap song. I cringed. If Kieran only knew where I was right now.
Me: Decide on what?
Cabrón: If you like the smart ass or the poet better?
Me: The jury is still out. I don’t know you well enough to decide.
Cabrón: We should remedy that… dinner tomorrow?
Me: I’m kind of busy the next few days. What about Thursday?
I had to work at the restaurant tomorrow night. My father’s friend rented out the entire place for his daughter’s quinceañera, not to mention, the next couple of days I was splitting my time between here and training at Irene’s so I could be ready to work there after Thanksgiving. Working three jobs, I could handle it, but it wasn’t really helpful when it came to dating.
Cabrón: I can make Thursday work.
Cabrón: I could pick you up at seven?
The swarm in my stomach fell quiet as I tried to picture Kieran, that handsome face and smile, his soapy scent competing with the smell of the dumpster just outside my apartment building, or the mildew that crept along the stairwell leading to my front door. Just a few more things to add to the other hundred reasons why I shouldn’t consider dating a man like him. I couldn’t back out now, but I sure as fuck wasn’t letting him pick me up.
Me: I’ll meet you somewhere.
Cabrón: The smart ass and the poet think that’s a terrible idea… really, I don’t mind.
Lying by omission, it was my daily life, but straight-up deception, it wasn’t my thing, not anymore at least, and he was making this difficult. Why do men have to be so damn valiant? I swallowed the sick taste coating my tongue as I typed out my response with trembling fingers.
Me: I’m not ready for you to see where I live. Just pick a place and I’ll be there.
The tone screamed crazy bitch, and if he was smart, he’d lose my number, but instead he answered in what felt like record-breaking speed.
Cabrón:
Meet me at Across the Page.
I’d never heard of the place.
Me: Is it casual?
Cabrón: If you ask me, I’ll just tell you to wear that dress again, but yeah, the place is chill.
The shallow rise and fall of my chest finally gave way to longer, deeper breaths as I smiled. He didn’t push the issue, but once I was sitting across from him at dinner, dodging my realities wouldn’t be as easy.
Me: Thursday at seven, I’ll be there.
Cabrón: And when she says goodbye, her aftertaste lingers and it favors the flavor of anticipation.
I couldn’t look up from my phone. His poem held me in place. He made it easy to believe I wasn’t standing in a strip club, that there wasn’t a part of me, however small she had become, shaking in a corner. She was pale and skinny with dirt under her nails, and that smell, it would never go away, and it reeked from her flesh. The scars on her soul were hideous and raised, puckered and putrid. He’d see them, he’d see everything, and I wondered if he’d still compare me to the dawn. My heart was too poisonous to hold, and the worst part of it all, was that I feared he wouldn’t risk his own to cure it.
“You have a date?”
“Jesus, Maria can’t keep her mouth shut for five minutes.”
Maria smirked as she wiped down the table. My father, on the other hand, just stared at me.
“What, Papa? Spit it out.”
His hair was starting to gray on the sides. And his belly? My mom and I had a bet going that by New Year’s he’d outgrow the customary pants we always got him for Christmas. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes narrowing as he said, “I worry.”
A ton of bricks settled inside my sternum.
“I’m almost thirty.”
“Does he come from a good home?”
I shrugged and I didn’t miss Maria’s snicker. My father’s eyes were almost slits as he stared me down like I was teenager. I wanted to be annoyed, but I’d given him plenty of reasons not to trust me.
Poet (Avenues Ink Series Book 3) Page 8