by Robin Kaye
“Heck yeah. Think of all those kids who never had a guy like Pop to steer them in the right direction, to love them, to care for them. Hell, I could have had to stay with my real parents. I’m damn lucky, and I think you are too. Would we have been better off if we were born into the perfect family?”
“Like Francis and Patrice’s kids?”
“Maybe we would have been better off, but then I don’t know. I’ve seen plenty of people who grew up with great families who can’t hack the real world. We have something kids who seem to have everything sometimes never get. We’re tough; we never let anything stop us.”
Nicki slid closer and leaned against his side.
Storm’s arm wrapped around her, and he sat her on his thigh. “Nicki, you’re smart enough to rely on yourself when you have to. You listen to your gut, your instincts, but you’re also smart enough to accept all the help and the love that Bree and Pop and I give you. You don’t take anything for granted, and you use all the knowledge you have. You’re a survivor. When you’re all grown up, you’re going to go places, kid. No one will ever be able to stop you because when you hit a brick wall, you figure out how to go over it, around it, or through it. That’s what people like us do.”
Nicki leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. “Is that what you did? Is that why you left?”
“I guess that’s what I thought I was doing at the time. I might have been wrong, though. I should have talked to Pop about it. I didn’t look below the surface. If I had…I don’t know.” He tossed the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers onto the desk. Maybe if he had looked beneath the surface, he wouldn’t have hurt Bree.
“But you came back.” Pop’s gruff voice startled Nicki, and she jumped off Storm’s lap and woke D.O.G.
Storm shot her a smile. “Pop always had great hearing.” He didn’t say anything about Pop’s frequent eavesdropping even though if the shoe were on the other foot, Storm would have heard about it.
Nicki rubbed D.O.G.’s floppy ear between her fingers. “Bree didn’t like you much before, but she seems to like you well enough now. Did you have fun on your date?”
“I did. I hope she did too. I took her out on a boat I designed.”
“Did she look beneath the surface?”
“Maybe, but seeing and believing are two different things, kiddo.”
“I know. It’s like what you taught me today at the pier. Per—”
“Perspective?”
“That’s it. I was thinking about what you said about seeing things from different perspectives; I guess that goes for people too. Maybe Bree is changing her perspective.”
“Maybe we all are.” Storm bit the bullet on his design, saved it, and hit Send. He’d gone over it enough times and could tweak the design here and there, but when it came down to it, it wouldn’t get any better. It was time to let it go and start making dinner.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Pop dragged Nicki’s chair farther away from the table and sat.
“I’m cooking. Bree will be here by six, and since I ate half her lunch, she’ll be hungry.”
Pop checked his watch and stood. “She should be back at her place by now. I think I’ll go over and see her.”
Storm rose too. “I don’t know why you just don’t wait for her to come to dinner.”
“Because I can’t. I’ll make sure we’re back by six.”
Storm watched Pop walk through the apartment. He looked tired as he let himself out and rested against the wall between the two apartments before closing the door behind him.
Nicki followed Pop’s progress as closely as Storm had.
Storm couldn’t imagine what Pop had to talk to Bree about that would chase him out two days after he came home. He just hoped it had nothing to do with him. “Okay, Nicki, I’ve got to get dinner started. Let’s clean up our mess, and then maybe you can help.”
Nicki wrinkled her nose. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“Well, neither am I.” At least not heart-healthy stuff. He grabbed the recipe he’d picked up at the Fairway Market and read it. “But hell, if I can design boats, I should have no problem following a recipe, right?”
“I guess. How old were you when you decided you wanted to design boats?”
“I don’t know. I’ve loved boats ever since I can remember. I used to go down to the water and watch them whenever I could sneak away from my house. I always thought if I could just get on a boat, I’d be free.”
He didn’t tell her he was trying to steal one and run away the first time Pop had caught him. “When Pop took me in, he bought an old sailboat that was falling apart and we stripped it, fixed it all up, and made her seaworthy again. Pop taught me how to sail. That was when I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted to design sailboats and race them.” He’d never thought about it before, but he owed Pop for so much more than just taking him in. He owed him for showing him how to use his passion for boats constructively. Storm owed his father everything.
“Maybe I can be a boat designer too.”
“You want to be a marine architect?”
“Yeah, that.” Nicki wrinkled her nose. “’Cause I know I don’t want to be a cook.”
“That makes two of us. Yet if we want to eat, we’ve got to cook. So what do you say we give it a try?”
* * *
At the sound of the knock, Bree’s heart banged against her ribs. It had been hours since she’d seen Storm. Just picturing the way he’d look when she opened the door had her running. Maybe he needed to borrow a cup of sugar, or maybe he just wanted to kiss her senseless again. Either way, she couldn’t get to the door fast enough.
She wrenched it open, only to find Pete leaning uncomfortably against the wall; he looked like hell. “Are you okay?” She wrapped her arm around him and led him to her chair.
“I’m fine. Would you stop hovering?”
“Hey, I’m not the one who looks like a zombie from Dawn of the Dead.”
Patrice and Rocki both stood. The deserters that they were took off with a cheerleader’s wave.
Pete watched as the girls left, as if waiting for them to be alone before he said anything. The click of the door was like a ringing of the bell in a prizefight. “I was worried about you. You’ve made yourself scarce since Nicki brought home her furry friend.”
Bree sat beside him and clasped her hands between her knees to keep from touching him. His color wasn’t good, but then it could be from walking through the apartments; he’d only been home two days.
“Storm told me you’re afraid of dogs.”
“Wasn’t that nice of him?” Bree didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm. “I suppose he told Nicki too. It’s one thing to look like a wuss in front of the two of you, but I really don’t want Nicki to think I’m—”
“Human? God, Bree, you don’t have to be anything more than you are for Nicki, me, and Storm to love you. But don’t worry. I’m sure Storm hasn’t said anything to Nicki. He means well, you know. The only reason he told me was because you disappeared and I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine. What’s this about?”
Pete pulled his robe around him and shivered.
“Are you cold? Do you want me to turn up the thermostat?”
His hand on her knee stopped her from jumping. “No, I’m fine.” He shot her a tortured look, rubbed his forehead, and then slicked back his hair with a shaking hand.
“Calm down. I’m sure we can work out whatever it is.” She didn’t have a clue what was wrong, but it must have something to do with Storm.
“I see the way you and Storm dance around each other. I don’t pretend to know what happened between you two before Storm took off, but whatever it was hurt you both.”
Bree let out a relieved breath. “It was a long time ago. And we’re working through it, getting to know each other again. We’ve buried the hatchet and are seeing where to go from here.”
“It must have been one hell of a big ha
tchet. I’m not blind, Bree. It didn’t escape my notice that Storm went out of his way to avoid seeing you all these years.”
“He said he came home, but you never mentioned he visited.”
“Whenever he came home, you were away at school. Probably by design. He didn’t come home nearly often enough, and for whatever reason, he made me promise not to mention it to you.”
Bree didn’t say anything and didn’t bother pretending it didn’t hurt. If what Storm said last night was true, she wasn’t the only one afraid. She must have really scared the hell out of him.
“Storm said your date went well.”
“We did get a lot of things worked out.”
“You spent the night with him, Bree. I was hoping things went beyond burying the hatchet.”
“It did, but it’s confusing. You know how he feels about Red Hook. And Red Hook is my home.”
“It’s Nicki’s home too.”
“Of course it is.”
“So you spent the night together and didn’t talk about the future? For two people who have no problem communicating with everyone else, you sure do a crappy job with each other.”
Bree winced. Most of the fault for their lack of communication rested squarely on her shoulders—something else that she would have to change. “Tell me about it.”
Pete took her hand and squeezed. “Bree, it’s important that Storm stays here now. I hoped you’d tell me you think he’s back for good.”
“He said he’d stay until you were back on your feet and able to take care of Nicki by yourself. We haven’t talked about anything beyond that.”
“That’s the thing. Nicki should have more than just me taking care of her.”
Pete was beating around the bush again. She’d never seen him like this in all the years she’d known him. She faced him and covered his shaking, cold hand in hers. “What are you not telling me?”
“I hope to God I’m doing the right thing telling you this. When I took Nicki in, I thought I had plenty of time—”
“Time for what?”
“Time to get things settled. But then I had the heart attack. I need to know Nicki will be taken care of should anything happen to me.”
“You don’t have to worry about Nicki. I’ll always be there for her.”
“I know you will.” Pete put his arm around her and kissed her temple. “And I love you for it, but Nicki needs at least one of her parents.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and contact her mother.” Rage she hadn’t known existed boiled to the surface. She had to move. She brushed off Pete’s arm and paced the room, trying to calm her temper before turning back to him. “Pete, the woman abandoned her. She left Nicki with a total stranger. She hasn’t even tried to contact her in the three months she’s been with us.”
“I’m not going after Marisa. Bree, I’m talking about Nicki’s father.”
Bree felt as if her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer, and her stomach ended up in her throat. She sank into the couch beside Pete. “You know who her father is?”
“I have an idea. A possibility. A few possibilities, actually. Marisa used to work as a waitress at the bar when the boys were all still home.”
Bree’s scalp tightened, and fear of whatever it was Pete was having such a hard time spitting out raced through her with every beat of her heart. It was something bad enough to shake the once-unshakable man she’d known her whole life. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“I thought if Storm was planning to move back here, it would be easier to talk to him about this. Bree, when Marisa left Nicki with me, Nicki was hysterical. Marisa was halfway out the door when she said I was Nicki’s grandfather and that Nicki would be better off with me.”
“If you’re Nicki’s grandfather, who did she say Nicki’s father was?”
“She didn’t. She took off. It could be a lie for all I know, but then I suppose it could be any one of my boys.”
“And you think it’s Storm?” Bree hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud until Pete shook his head and ran his hand through what was left of his hair.
“I’m not sure. If I remember correctly, Logan had a girlfriend back then, and Slater had his head stuck so far into his computers, I don’t think he discovered women until after he went into the navy.”
Bree wrapped her arms around herself. “You think Storm is Nicki’s father?”
“I don’t know how to ask him.” Pete scrubbed his face with his hand. “Bree, when Storm left, he wasn’t supposed to have joined the merchant marines for another few months. He ran away. He left the hemisphere on the first ship he could get out on. I never would have thought he’d run out on his own child, but I think the idea of being a father could have scared the hell out of him.”
Bree looked into Pete’s pain-filled eyes. “Storm told me he left because of me.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I did. I had no reason not to.”
“Until I told you what Marisa said. Shit. This was a mistake. I thought with you and Storm getting closer, you’d have a better handle on how he might react to this. I thought…Aw hell, I thought if Nicki was his, that you and Storm would finally get your shit together and—”
“Do what, Pete? Storm might be here now, and we’re seeing each other, but that doesn’t change the fact that everything—his life, his business—is in New Zealand.”
“His family, you, and Nicki are here.”
She was on the outside looking in again. Bree went back to pacing. “You can’t tell Nicki until you know for sure. You need to talk to Storm.”
Bree’s mind raced. Storm could be Nicki’s father. That couldn’t be bad, could it? Nicki loved him, and from everything she’d seen, Storm was falling hard for Nicki too. She looked into Pete’s rheumy eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
Pete shook his head. “You probably don’t remember what Storm was like when he first came to me. Bree. You don’t know the kind of abuse Storm suffered.”
“Abuse? I thought his parents were dead and that you fostered him after you caught him stealing a boat.”
“I caught him, all right. I caught him and returned him to his parents.” Pete was quiet for a long time, seemingly lost in the painful memories. Regret and guilt rolled off him in waves. “After I’d left them, his father went after him with a tire iron. It was my fault. Storm begged me not to tell his parents. I knew he was scared; I thought it was because he’d been caught. His father almost killed him.”
“Oh, Pete. You had no way of knowing—” Bree wanted to comfort him. The pain in his eyes amplified the rawness of the regret in his voice.
“Sure I did. I should have taken him back to the precinct. I should have gone by the book. If I had, I would have seen the history of domestic disturbances and emergency room visits. Broken ribs, a broken arm, black eyes, a bruised spleen…His medical file was the size of the New York phone book. When I saw it, I thought I was going to be sick. But I liked the kid. By taking him home, I thought I was doing him a favor. Kids make mistakes; I wanted to cut him a break. I heard the domestic disturbance call less than a half hour later. When I arrived, it was all I could do not to shoot the bastard who fathered him.”
“Pete—”
He waved away any platitudes she may have given him. Storm hadn’t been much older than Nicki when Pete took him in. Her heart broke for the little boy he’d been and the man she loved.
“I did the only thing I could do to make it right, to make up for failing him. After he got out of the hospital, I made sure he never had to go back to his parents again. I worked the system. I took him in. I was responsible for him.”
“You loved him.”
“How could I not? He didn’t have an easy time of it, Bree. He ran every chance he got. Every time he did something wrong, if I so much as raised my voice, he’d run. By the time he hit sixteen, I thought he’d stopped running all together. Until that night. He ran again, and I’m not sure why.
“If Marisa had
told him she was pregnant, he may very well have run. Not for himself, but to protect the child from the monster he thought he might become. Even if he’s not Nicki’s father, the idea of fatherhood is going to bring up all kinds of painful memories for him.”
“Oh God. But since he ran, he’s grown up. He’s responsible, an adult; he’s made something of himself. He’s not that scared boy anymore.”
Bree blinked back tears. Bree loved Nicki and wanted to protect her from the hurt that gets buried so deep, there can be no digging it out. She wanted to protect Storm. She wanted a family with Storm and Nicki—she wanted it all.
She’d thought she’d had no illusions. She’d thought any illusions she once had were shattered years ago. She’d thought wrong—the ringing in her ears was the sound of her last illusion shattering. Bree cleared her throat, hoping she wouldn’t sound on the verge of falling apart. There would be time enough for that later. “Maybe Nicki’s not his. Have you talked to Logan? If anyone would know what happened back then, it would be him.”
“No, I haven’t said anything to any of the boys. None are in a position to take on Nicki right now. Well, maybe Storm—if he doesn’t rabbit again, but Logan and Slater aren’t, and I can’t hit them with this over the phone. Hell, they can’t leave work. Both their careers depend on their finishing their commitments.”
Pete stared at his hands. “Nicki comes off like a tough kid, but she’s fragile. I need to be the one to tell them, Bree. Nicki is my grandchild in my heart if nothing else. She’s my responsibility, my family.”
“Okay.” And once again, she was on the outside looking in.
“Then it’s decided. I’ll talk to Logan when he comes home. Maybe he’ll know if Storm and Marisa were together.”
“I don’t like it, but as you said, it’s your decision.” She didn’t like it at all, but this wasn’t her family. It was Pete’s.
* * *
Storm helped Nicki set the table and looked up when Pop trudged through the door. “Where’s Bree? Dinner is almost ready.”
Pete looked like he’d aged a decade since leaving not twenty minutes ago. Storm pulled out his chair and helped lower Pop into it. “Are you okay?” he asked under his breath.