“Got it.”
Chapter 24
Sebastian
Present
Haven, LA
The faintest whisper tempts me from sleep, but I burrow deeper into the blankets. The sun is far from up. I’ve got hours of glorious sleep to go before morning.
Until the whispers get louder … and my bottom lip pulls away from my face.
I jerk awake in a flurry of covers, and my groggy eyes meet identical sleepy ones.
“Aria.” I cough, trying to clear the gravel from my throat. I run a hand over my mouth and sit up. Then I cover my naked chest … because what are the rules here? I’m wearing running shorts, so I think I’m good. Maybe?
Shit, I’m too dazed to think about this shit.
I drop the blanket and focus on Aria, whose eyes look a little more than sleepy. They’re glassy and on the verge of spilling over with tears.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“I want my momma,” she whimpers, and a fat tear splashes onto her cheek.
“Oh no, don’t cry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
I wipe a thumb across her wet cheek and scoop her up into my lap. She lays her head on my bare chest while I rub her back.
As I cradle my daughter in my arms and rock back and forth, I know one thing with complete certainty. I would slay dragons … tackle lions … throttle teenage boys … kill anything or anyone who ever dared to hurt this little girl.
“I can bring you home, baby, it’s not a problem. I’ll call your mom right now,” I say, squeezing her tight.
“Okay, I’ll go get my bag.” She untangles from my arms and hops down. She wipes her eyes as she sprints back to the bedroom she was sharing with Brady.
I call Autumn as I get dressed and grab my keys, but the phone goes straight to voicemail. I try again, but no dice. When I look up, Aria’s standing in the doorway in her pajamas, bag packed and in hand. Horns poke out of her feet.
“Nice unicorn slippers.”
“Fanks.”
“Your mom isn’t answering, so I bet she’s probably asleep.” I pause and wait to see what her response will be. None at all. “Well, I guess we could drive over there and see if she answers.”
“Okay,” she says quickly and skips down the hallway.
The skip is a bit bouncy for a kid who was just crying her eyes out, but what do I know?
I tap on the door to the guest bedroom and call Brady’s name. He grunts.
“Aria says she misses her mom and wants to go home.”
Brady reaches over and illuminates his phone on the bedside table. “One-thirty. Yeah, right on time. She’s like clockwork, that one. She knows better than to wake me up with that shit now. She’s played that card one too many times with Uncle Bray.”
“Wait, you knew she would do this?”
He scoffs and rolls toward the wall. “She does it every damn time. She’s all big britches until the house goes quiet.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this beforehand, douchebag?” I whisper, peeking behind me to make sure little ears are out of range.
“It was a test. You passed.”
“Are you serious?”
“No, I honestly forgot. Sorry.”
I leave Brady with a parting growl of frustration and open the front door for Aria to pass through. Instead, she raises her arms to me.
“I don’t want to get my unicorns dirty,” she explains in an exasperated tone.
“Oh, right.” I lift her up onto my hip, and she wraps her arms around my neck. I’m all too happy to snuggle her tight, if only for a few minutes. Come Monday, I’ll probably be lucky to get a wave hello, so I need to enjoy this while I can.
Dang cat …
I settle her into the car seat, and she helps me with the latches, chanting, “Don’t pinch me. Don’t pinch me,” while I secure them between her legs.
Once we get moving, Aria calls to me from the back seat. And by “calls to me,” I don’t mean she calls me by my name. Or any name at all. At this point, I’m “Hey” to Aria. My daughter calls me “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
She’s quiet for long enough that I peek in the rearview mirror to see what’s she’s doing. Her head’s turned, staring out the passenger window, watching the street fly by.
“Do you want to take me fishing?”
I pause at the strange question, remembering back to earlier in the night when she talked about her friend at school and how her dad takes her fishing. I wonder what exactly Aria is asking me … and if she even knows.
“Do you want to go fishing?”
I check the mirror again and watch her, face scrunched in deep thought. “I don’t fink I would like fishing. Fish are slimy and squirmy. And stinky. I don’t fink I’d like it.”
“Then we won’t go.”
“Okay.”
“But if you ever want to go, I would love to take you.”
I park in front of the coffee shop and turn in my seat to meet her gaze.
“Do you have a boat?”
“No, I don’t,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. “But I’d find one. For you. When you’re ready to go fishing.”
She’s silent for a moment. Then two. Then her lips quirk in to a half smile, half laugh.
“Okay.”
I scoop Aria and her overnight bag into my arms and climb the stairs. A faint glow shines from the window of the apartment, and a thought that hadn’t occurred to me jumps to the forefront of my brain.
What if Autumn’s got company? Shit …
I’m mediocre at training my face on a good day. At this point, I’m tired as hell and punch-drunk from riding the yo-yo of emotions that comes with spending time with my daughter. My heart is so full at this moment, and if a man opens this door right now, it may just explode and splatter blood all over his fat face.
“Are you gonna knock?” Aria asks as she leans forward in my arms and bangs on the door.
“Shit,” I mutter, summoning all my strength to keep a neutral face.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly as a shadowy figure moves closer to the door.
Autumn peeks through the curtains, eyes bleary and unfocused. The latch clicks, and she opens the door. Aria launches herself into her mother’s arms.
“Mommy!” She squeezes Autumn’s neck and buries her face into her cheek. “I missed you and wanted to come home.”
The words come out muffled since her mouth is smashed into Autumn’s face and they both laugh.
“That’s all right, poppet. I was getting lonely anyway.”
“I tried to call and let you know we were coming, but it went straight to voicemail.”
Autumn’s sleepy expression turns panicked, and she darts inside the apartment. I peek through the doorway, and she grabs her phone off the table.
“Dead. I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry. That’s completely irresponsible of me. It keeps dying an hour after I charge it—I don’t know what’s—”
“Hey, no worries,” I say, reaching out and touching her arm. “She was with Brady and me. Pillars of responsibility. No harm done.”
She presses her lips together and nods. Aria wriggles from her arm and takes off across the living room.
“Can you say thank you for the sleepover?” Autumn calls out to her retreating back.
“Fank you!”
“Goodnight Aria,” I say, loud enough for her to hear.
Autumn leans back, watching her retreat, then laughs.
“Little shit. She’s in my bed. She’ll have a whole speech prepared about how much she missed me and needs to be close to me now.”
I can imagine Aria putting on the charm, and the thought makes me grin.
“Yeah, I kind of feel like I got played tonight.”
“Oh, for sure. Like a fiddle.” She smiles and leans her head on the frame. “Used to do it to Brady all the time when he lived in Providence.”
The thought of Aria yanking Brady’
s chain gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling, I can’t lie. He deserves it for keeping me in the dark tonight.
A comfortable silence falls between us, and we both smile tentatively. Part of me wants to fill the void with every single thing I couldn’t say for the past five years. But the largest part wants to sit in the pocket of just being here, standing next to the girl who knows every groove and crack of my heart. The grooves she helped mold with her love. The cracks she dug deep with her silence.
No doubt she’s got cracks courtesy of me as well. I hope the grooves left a more lasting impression.
Only time will tell. Only time can heal.
Autumn’s brow furrows in confusion, and she tilts her head in question. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s been too long since I’ve had the luxury of just looking at you. I’m going to need a minute.” The words tumble from my lips unchecked and laced with longing.
A flurry of emotions flits across her face. Surprise … adoration … irritation … betrayal.
Always betrayal.
She shakes her head, and her eyes flutter shut. “You … you’re like a loaded rifle with no safety, Sebastian Kelly.”
“I’m going to prove you wrong, Autumn. Just you wait. I’m so much more than you give me credit for.”
“I won’t make you any promises,” she whispers, stepping away from the door, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
I blink back my own emotions and smile with a confidence I only feel in half measures.
“The possibility of something more … I’ve lived on less, so much less than that over the last few years. I think I’ll take my chances.”
The door clicks shut, and I can’t walk away. The shadowed silhouette on the other side of the door tells me neither can she. My knees feel weak as I place a hand on the door and lean my head on the frame. I close my eyes and just breathe.
The air feels heavy with the truth we’ve spoken and strung tight with the things left unsaid. The door bows with the emotion pulsing from both sides.
I hate you … I love you … I need you … I don’t want to.
Then, with all the effort I can muster, I turn around and go home.
Chapter 25
Sebastian
Present
Haven, LA
“Not sure what the kitchen sink has to do with the price of tea in China, but I’d trade Marge in for a dozen of these cookies.” Joe shoves another bite into his mouth while his wife gives him the side eye.
“Wouldn’t even need payment. You can take this old goat off my hands for free,” Marge mutters, throwing an accusing thumb in Joe’s direction, then goes right back to her crocheting.
He stops chewing for a fraction of a second, but his stomach wins out over the butt hurt. He turns his body away from hers but doesn’t make much progress with the sliver of loveseat Marge’s size affords him. He harrumphs and takes another bite.
At a glance, the two are opposites in every way. Joe, wearing a crisply starched Western shirt with pearl buttons and a pack of cigarettes perched in his front pocket. Lean as a green bean and just as pointy. Marge, billowing and rounded, with her pleated house dress extenuating her already more-than-ample bosom while her feet overflow her Sas shoes like overbaked loaves of bread. Puffy as cotton candy and squat as a sumo wrestler.
One look at Lexi’s ballerina corset and spiky black hair, along with my trendy lumberjack attire and two-month-old scruff, and it’s safe to say we are four of the most oddly matched people to come together and make a family. We’re like four mismatched socks at the bottom of a clothes dryer. But looks can be deceiving, and hearts come in all shapes and sizes. And some of the largest, squishiest ones are guarded with dynamite and barbed wire. Many times, those are the best ones.
“Well isn’t this cozy.” Lexi’s gaze takes in every detail around her with a disapproving gaze and an I-smell-shit scowl.
The tiny apartment smells faintly of moth balls and stale smoke, and there’s hardly enough room to house all of us in the cramped living room. One look at the peeling wallpaper and shag carpet matted with God knows what, and it’s obvious Evangeline Apartments has seen better days.
Don’t get me wrong, not a pillow is out of place, and courtesy of Marge, I can see my reflection in the cracked Formica counter in the kitchen. She’s always kept a spotless home. Leaving a stray sock or food wrapper laying around meant you ran the risk of having your ear twisted right off.
But there’s not enough spit to shine this turd.
“Seb, did you know the house I rent has two bedrooms?” Lexi’s eyes are fixed on me, but she throws her voice across the tiny living room, directly at Joe and Marge.
“Hush it, little girl,” Marge warns, never looking up from her yarn and needle.
“Split floor plan. Bedrooms are on opposite sides of the house from each other.”
My silence earns me an elbow to the gut, and I yelp in pain.
“You don’t say,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a cookie jar in this house, would ya, Lexi Lou?” Joe raises a brow in question while visions of sugar plums and an unlimited supply of cookies glitter in his eyes.
“Joe!” Marge drops her crochet like it’s on fire and stares at her husband, horrified.
“Maybe she’s got a magic kitchen sink, Margie. Spits out these golden goodies with a tap of her wand. That’d be worth moving for, wouldn’t you say?” He reaches for another cookie and takes a monstrous bite.
Smack. “We will not.” Smack. “Be a burden.” Smack. “I take care of you.” Smack. “You take care of me.” Smack. Smack.
Joe rubs his battered shoulder and scowls.
“I don’t care if cookies rain down from the ceiling after supper every night.”
Joe’s expression brightens at the thought.
Smack. Smack.
“Woman, I’m about to take care of you all right, but I’m not sure it’s in the way you mean. Now stop slapping me!”
“Hold on, hold on,” I say calmly, trying to be the voice of reason. “I think what Lexi’s trying to say is we’re worried. When you sold your house, we knew you’d be downsizing to something smaller, but … well, you’ve got to admit, this place has seen its better days.”
“And so have we.” Marge crosses her arms in a huff, offended on behalf of their apartment. “Just because something isn’t as shiny as it used to be doesn’t mean it’s worthless. Even run-down things have their place on this earth.”
“Speak for yourself. I ain’t run down. Some things get better with age.” Joe barks out a raucous laugh that quickly morphs into a rattling cough.
“Christ,” Marge mutters.
“You’ve done so much for Seb and me,” Lexi says, shooting a glance in my direction. I nod. “You took us in when we had nowhere to go. What would it say about us if we let you live in this dump? Let us be there for you like you were there for us.”
I watch in wonder as Lexi pleads with them, and I can’t help but smile. Every day, I watch her chew people up and swallow them in one gulp. A true cannibal at heart. But Joe and Marge get down to her gooey center unlike anyone else can. It’s actually beautiful to watch. If it weren’t for these two, I’d wonder if Lexi was absent the day God handed out feelings.
“You two do enough. We don’t need you to take care of us in the way you think. Margie and me,” Joe says as he reaches for Marge. She slides her hand in his and smiles. “We take care of each other. Been doing it for fifty years.”
“When you’re not trying to kill each other,” Lexi mutters and rolls her eyes.
“Hush that right now. We may not always see eye to eye, but there’s no one else in the world I’d want to yell at every day other than Joe. And that includes you.” Marge sniffs and pats her and Joe’s clasped hands. “Love doesn’t always look like you think it should. Doesn’t make it any less real.”
Lexi looks apologetic as she picks at invisible lint on her jeans,
but she says nothing.
“Besides, we’ve got friends here. Margie plays dominos with the ladies every Tuesday, and I run the elevators in the afternoon.” Joe nods and puffs his bird chest proudly.
“Run the elevators?” I wonder aloud, because I’m pretty sure I got on the elevator and pressed the button to their apartment just fine on my own. No assistance needed.
“The point is,” Margie says, raising her voice and interrupting my train of thought, “we’re doing just fine, thank you very much, and we expect weekly visits from both of you, just like always. Don’t care if you like this place or not. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we both mumble as Marge mutters under her breath. “Don’t know who made these two yo-yos president of the Good Housekeeping committee. Pretty sure neither one of ‘em even owns a vacuum cleaner.”
Before I can argue the point, because I damn well do own a vacuum cleaner no matter how infrequently I use it, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I’m surprised to see Autumn’s name lighting up the screen.
Autumn: Are you busy?
Me: No, what’s up?
“Boy, you come visit me and my wife and sit on that damned old phone, looking googly eyed? No manners, that one.” I look up to find Joe scowling in my direction.
Lexi barks out a laugh. “Speaking of love … that goofball face sums it up nicely. For Sebastian, love is looking about three-foot-tall with brown eyes and bows in her hair. Pretty sure the mom is part of the equation, too, if you know what I mean.”
“Stop telling the boy’s business—”
Before Marge finishes taking up for me, my screen lights up again, but with a call this time.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“I’m so sorry, but I didn’t have anyone else to call,” Autumn says, sounding way too frantic for my liking.
I step out into the hallway and close the door behind me.
“No, you did the right thing. What’s wrong.”
“The school just called me, and Aria is sick. She threw up at recess, and then again in the classroom. I still have two classes, and one of them is a lab with a fifty-point assignment.”
Waiting for Autumn Page 13