Leave Me Breathless

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “You’re nosy, you know that?” Fuck me, I’ve faced some uncomfortable situations in my time. Have maintained my expert poker face when on a job, have kept my cool. Yet when my daughter interrogates me about my love life, it all goes to shit.

  “We’re dating,” I mumble.

  “Dating, my arse,” she says.

  “I didn’t raise you to talk like that.” I toss her a displeased look. I know it’ll have zero impact, but still. Who’s the parent around here? “Now, back to your mother.”

  She looks away, staring out of the window. “I just want everyone to be happy.”

  My heart drops like a stone in my chest. “Cabbage, you can’t control other people and what they do. Life will throw you curveballs all the time. It’s how you deal with them that shapes who you are.” She scuffs her Converse on the dashboard, her face sulky, and I reach across to squeeze her leg. “Mum will be fine.”

  “If you hate her so much, why’d you rough up Casper?”

  I don’t know how many times I have to tell her. “I don’t hate your mother. I just find her…challenging.” Good choice of word. “I might not love her, but I care about her.”

  “Because she’s my mum?”

  “Exactly, and without her, there would be no you.”

  I park up outside the cabin and Alex skips across to the shed where Hannah’s bike is. “I think we should give it to her later. I’m gonna put the bell on today. And polish it up.”

  “Anything you want.” I hope Hannah is a good actor. I head inside, toss my keys on the counter, and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “Wanna go chop some wood for the fire?” I call back as I stride to my bedroom.

  “Yes! Dibs on riding shotgun in the wheelbarrow!”

  “You don’t ride shotgun in a wheelbarrow, Cabbage. I’ve told you before.” I swap my shorts for some combat trousers and shove my feet into some boots, pulling on a fresh T-shirt as I head back out.

  “Yeah, but it sounds real cool,” she says as I pass, making me laugh my way out of the cabin. She’s in quick pursuit, racing past me to make it to the barrow. She falls in, her legs dangling over the edge, and collects one of the axes from beside her, pointing it forward. “Charge,” she yells.

  “Dressed for the occasion, I see.” I take the handles of the barrow and lift, pushing on into the woods.

  Alex looks down at the sequins on her puffy floral skirt where her axe now lies across her lap. “You don’t like it?” Her tone is full of sarcasm as she strokes across the fabric. “How about the top?”

  I look down at the frilled satin monstrosity. Then to the baseball cap on her head. And the Converses on her feet that look about ready for the bin. “Gorgeous.”

  She relaxes back, looking up at me as I push on. “This is what I’m wearing when you and Hannah get married.”

  My eyes drop. “Quit it.”

  She chuckles and jumps out the barrow while it’s still moving, running across the clearing we’ve reached. “This one looks like it’s ready to come down.” She kicks the trunk of the dead birch, looking up into the branches. “What d’ya think?”

  “I think you’re right.” I set the barrow down and take my axe, swinging it as I make my way over. “But it’s too big for you.” I look around, hearing Alex snort her displeasure. I spot a small conifer a few yards away. “You take that one, I’ll take this one.”

  “That’s tiny!”

  “So are you.” I pull my T-shirt off and toss it aside, raising my axe and bringing it down with a roar.

  * * *

  We spent four hours in the woods and collected enough firewood to last us a year. My muscles ache deliciously as we drive back into town to pick up some dinner, but my ears are bleeding as Alex belts out the lyrics to “Wild Thing” by the Troggs, using the dashboard as a drum kit.

  I reach forward and turn the stereo down. “Anyone ever tell you that you have really odd taste in music?”

  “Yeah. You. All the time.” She reaches forward and cranks up the volume again, going back to hitting and smacking at the dashboard. My daughter’s a nutter. And I love her all the more for it—unashamed, uninhibited, wild. At least, she is when she’s with me. I glance across to her, smiling, just as her arm flies toward the windshield. “Dad, watch out!”

  I startle and take both hands to the wheel, seeing a truck coming at us head-on. “Fuck!” My mind takes way too long to register that it’s on the wrong side of the road. Our side. And it’s not shifting out of the way.

  “Dad!” Alex yells, smacking me on the arm and pointing at the road again, as if I could have missed it coming closer and closer. It’s going way over the speed limit for around these parts.

  I smack at my horn repeatedly, torn whether to swerve or not. If I swerve and then this twat swerves, we’re going to hit head-on.

  “Fucking hell,” I breathe. Adrenaline powers through me, and I yank the wheel hard at the last second, wincing as the sound of screeching tires pierces the air. The other truck clips mine, jolting it violently as I hit the dirt on the side of the road, slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting a huge oak tree.

  We skid to an abrupt stop. “Good Lord Christ,” Alex breathes from beside me, her hands clawed into her seat on either side of her waist.

  “You okay?” I ask as I undo my belt, registering her nod through her shock as I jump out and run around the back of my truck to try to catch the license plate of the asshole who ran us off the road.

  “Fuck.” I kick the pile of leaves at my feet, just seeing the tail end of the Mitsubishi disappear around a bend. Everything in me wants to chase the stupid fucker down and kick ten tons of shit out of him, but…

  I inhale, trying to calm my rage, and go to Alex, opening the door and noting her stiff body. She turns her wide eyes onto me. “What a twat!” she screeches, unclipping her belt and hopping out. She runs to the roadside, her arms flailing. “Learn how to drive, moron!”

  “I don’t think he can hear you,” I mutter, checking the damage. “Motherfucker.” A tidy gouge stretches from the bumper to the door.

  I hear Alex stomp her way back to me, her hands on her hips. “It’s good MI5 taught you how to drive properly when you were a copper, or we might be dead.”

  I laugh under my breath as I straighten, staring down the road to the bend. “Yeah,” I reply quietly.

  * * *

  We make it into town with no further incidents, and I park outside Mr. Chaps’s store, my gaze naturally drifting to the shop a few buildings down, wondering what kind of day Hannah’s had and if she found inspiration for that blank canvas. I inwardly smile, thinking I’ll pop in and find out, just as soon as I’ve gotten what we need from the store.

  “Hey, Dad, can I go get one of Mrs. Heaven’s blueberry muffins?”

  “Sure.” I dip in my pocket and pull out a pound, flicking it to Alex. She catches it and skips off. “What do you want for dinner?” I call.

  “You choose.” She pushes her way into the café, and I grab a basket from the entrance to Mr. Chaps’s, mentally running through my shopping list as I wander up and down the aisles, deciding on burgers. I make small talk with Brianna at the checkout as she scans and I pack, and flash her a smile as I leave, seeming to surprise her.

  What can I say? I’m in a good mood, imbecilic drivers aside. But my mood crashes when I nearly collide with Darcy as I’m leaving. “Oh!” she yelps, jumping back.

  I sidestep her, being sure not to catch her with my bags, which is unlikely when she’s cleared my path for me, pushing herself up against the crate of potatoes nearby. She’s put herself back together since I saw her this morning, her pencil dress absent a single crease, her hair and makeup flawless. “I’m not contagious, Darcy.”

  “I never said you were,” she replies as she pulls off her leather driving gloves.

  “You don’t have to.” I pass her, making sure I keep my distance.

  “Ryan, wait.” There’s urgency in her voice, and a certain softness I’m not used to.
Therefore, I’m wary of it. Really wary.

  I slow and turn. “What?”

  She shifts on her heels, her eyes darting a little. “About this morning.”

  “You don’t have to explain.” I saw what I saw, heard what I heard, did what I did. That’s it. I start to carry on my way.

  “I don’t want to explain. I wanted to thank you.”

  Say what? I slow to a stop again. “You don’t have to thank me. Any man would have done the same.”

  “Maybe, but it was you who defended me.”

  Since when has Darcy Hampton ever thanked me for anything? Mind you, have I ever done anything for her to justify a thanks? Yes, I have. I didn’t strangle her when she tried to pass my daughter off as another man’s. That deserves a thank-you.

  “So, thank you.”

  “Welcome.” I continue to my truck, surprised when Darcy follows me out. “Was there something else?” I ask, not curtly, but not particularly friendly.

  She moves in a little closer, which in itself is odd. She’s usually very set on putting as much distance between us as possible. “Would you mind if I borrowed Alexandra this evening?”

  She never asks me anything, just tells me. Who is this woman? “Why? You had her last night.”

  “I know, but last night I…” She pulls herself back and takes a deep breath. “Last night I wasn’t myself. I just want some mother-daughter time with her. You know, makeup, dress-up, a few nibbles.”

  Nibbles. Like caviar on cute little flatbreads? I look at the bags in my hands, full of ingredients to make some big, fat, juicy burgers. And makeup and dress-up? An image of Alex chopping wood in her frills and Converse sneakers this morning flits through my mind. “Darcy, I don’t—” I quickly stop myself from condemning her for inflicting her prissiness on our daughter. Her husband walked out on her this morning. And for another woman. Whom he apparently loves. Darcy’s lonely. Sad. Wants company. “Sure,” I agree, without much more thought, surprising me and Darcy. Maybe I should’ve run it by Alex first.

  She smiles brightly at me. I don’t think Darcy Hampton has smiled at me since that fateful night over eleven years ago when she batted her lashes and my dick rose to attention. “Thank you, Ryan.”

  Another thank-you. What’s the world coming to? “No problem.” I put my shopping on the back of my truck and slam the tailgate up, looking across to the café for Alex, seeing no sign of her. “You want to take her now, or should I drop her off later?”

  “Where is she?”

  I point my keys to the café just as my girl comes dancing out with a muffin shoved in her gob. “There.”

  Darcy whirls around and throws her arms up. “Darling!”

  “Mum?” Alex waffles, spiking a chuckle from me. She quickly chews and swallows, wiping her face with the cuff of her blouse. I wait for the backlash, bracing myself for the gasp of horror, not just at Alex’s manners, but at the state she’s in. Unlike me, Alex didn’t shower and change after our time in the woods. Instead, she polished Hannah’s bike and attached the bell. A flash of guilt comes over me. She wanted to give Hannah the bike this evening over burgers and beer. I’ll talk to her. We can give Hannah her new bike any day of the week.

  As I lean back against the side of my truck, I watch as Darcy hustles over to Alex, but there’s no meltdown over her attire. “Sweetheart,” she coos, not even faffing with her clothes or wiping the stray crumbs from her chops. “Dad’s agreed to you staying with me tonight.”

  “He has?” She flashes me a curious look.

  “Yes.” Darcy links arms with Alex and starts walking them to the store. “We’ll have a girlie night. Me and you. How exciting!”

  I stifle my laugh when Alex’s face morphs into something close to incredulity. I give her a look. Go with it, I mouth, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Exciting!” she squeals, tossing the paper from her muffin in the bin. “Can’t wait.”

  “Me either, darling. Now we need supplies.” Darcy swings around to me, bringing a staggering Alex with her. “Oh my, I just had the most terrific idea. Why doesn’t your father join us?”

  My back slips against my truck, and I stagger a few paces to the right. What the actual fuck?

  “Yes!” Alex sings. “That’s a terrific idea.”

  It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. What’s going on? I rough up her absconding husband, show a bit of respect, and now I’m a part of the family? I don’t think so. “That’s kind of you, Darcy”—weird of you, actually—“but makeup and dress-up isn’t really my thing.” I motion down my front to my ripped jeans, battered shirt, and scuffed boots, as if she could have forgotten that I’m the barbarian she always claims I am.

  “Oh.” Darcy titters all over the pavement, laughing hysterically. “I didn’t mean the girlie part. But you could join us for supper.”

  What weird dimension am I in?

  “Come on, Dad,” Alex pleads, coming forward with praying hands. Is she kidding me? I’m civil toward her mother, but my girl knows Darcy and I are so far apart on the human spectrum, I may as well be another species. Mixing us together for any longer than needed to exchange our daughter is a risk I’m not willing to take. Darcy’s malignant. I’m benign. She’s caustic. I’m mild. She’s conceited. I’m humble. I inhale, ready to deliver my resounding fuck no, but Alex’s pleading face sinks my intended refusal and I find myself saying, “Sure,” before I can stop myself.

  Alex’s grin isn’t smug or satisfied. It’s truly happy. God damn me, what have I done?

  “We’ll go home and prepare,” Darcy says, thoroughly delighted. “We’ll cook your dad his favorite.”

  I only just stop myself from pointing out that she has no idea what my favorite is. In fact, Darcy knows fuck-all about me. Except, of course, the size of my dick. And the fact I’m her daughter’s father, albeit proven in court. And obviously, that I live in a cabin—one that’s apparently as appealing as a mass grave.

  “You don’t know what dad’s favorite is.” Alex speaks up where I won’t, pulling her excited mother to a stop at the door of the store.

  “Well, you can tell me,” she says.

  “Burgers,” Alex declares proudly, and like I knew she would, Darcy recoils in revulsion, though she quickly composes herself. “Then we will make burgers.”

  “Great!” Alex claps her hands, and I shake my head, utterly flabbergasted by what’s transpiring today. Darcy Hampton is cooking me dinner. The world really has gone mad. “We need to get beers, too,” Alex declares. “And gherkins.”

  I save Darcy the trauma of shopping for all the vile things she needs to make me burgers, heading for the back of my truck and pulling the tailgate down. “You may as well take this.” I pull the bags out and make my way to Darcy’s car. “Everything you need is in here. Pop the trunk.”

  She does as I ask, probably for the first time in her life, and I dump the bags in the back. “I have a few things to do, so I’ll catch up with you soon.”

  I look back to Hannah’s store, feeling the disappointment starting to set in. I really wanted to see her tonight. Really wanted to. Instead of Chunky Monkey, beer, laughs, loose and carefree Hannah, and lots of amazing sex, I’ve got silver service, champagne in crystal glasses, false smiles, uptight and prissy Darcy Hampton, and no sex. Great.

  I drop a kiss on Alex’s forehead before she gets in her mother’s car, reminding myself that this is for her and no one else. “Say hi to Hannah for me,” she whispers.

  “I will.”

  They drive off together, and I even get a cheerful honk of Darcy’s horn as she goes. Lord almighty, I’m not sure which Darcy is more insufferable.

  I quickly shoot back into the store, deciding I’d better show some hospitality and turn up at Darcy’s with some kind of offering, and snag a bottle of wine.

  I feel my stomach tickle inside as I pay for it. Butterflies. It’s ridiculous yet…amazing.

  I walk out of the store with a certain urgency to my pace, my mind telling me t
hat I can snatch half an hour with Hannah before I join Alex and Darcy, but I slow when I see Hannah outside. My smile is instant, and I find myself coming to a gradual stop and standing at a distance, just looking at her. Admiring her. Wondering, again, where on earth she came from. I don’t think I care. Somehow, she’s here. And somehow, I’m the lucky guy who found her.

  She’s lost in thought, staring down at something—I don’t know what—and her hair is pinned up haphazardly on top of her head, today’s scarf lemon with green stars splattered all over it. Does she purposely make the bow on top bigger than her head? Probably. Just like she ensures every piece of clothing she wears is a few sizes too big. Her shirt today is knotted by the tails, and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her jeans are ripped and covered in numerous shades of paint, and her Birkenstocks are worn out but, I’m guessing, dead comfortable. She is simply a stunning disarray.

  My heart flutters in my chest and I swallow down some restraint before I tackle her to the pavement. I quietly approach, still watching her, still admiring her, and come to a stop a few feet away, expecting her to notice me and look up. She doesn’t.

  “Hey.”

  She jumps nearly a yard in the air, making me jump, too. My hand settles on my chest, but before I can find the will to laugh, I catch sight of her eyes. They’re not full of the sparkle I love. Nor the fun and wildness. In fact, they’re empty. Haunted. I withdraw, taken aback. She looks like a shell. A hollow vessel. Even her clothes seem gray all of a sudden.

  The temperature of my blood drops a few too many degrees, instigating prickles across my skin. “Hannah?” I say quietly, my apprehension clear. She stares at me for a few moments, seeming to be in a trance.

  Then, as if something has stabbed her out of her daydream, she jerks, shakes her head, smiles, and blinks a few times. “Hi,” she croaks, her gaze dropping to the pavement. “Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush.”

  She turns and walks away, her pace not urgent, but I can see the resistance it’s taking her not to break out in a run. She makes it to her store, unlocks the door, and is inside before I’ve had a chance to let the past few minutes sink in.