by Freya Barker
“Momma.”
My beautiful girl is in my arms. Hers wrap around me and she buries her face in my neck. Over her shoulder I can see Joe coming up the path, his face impassive, but his eyes unwavering as he walks right up, sandwiching Trinny between us as he holds us both. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he mumbles, “Thank fucking God.”
Chapter 32
Joe
I prop my feet up on the railing, and sip my coffee.
The soft orange glow in the clear morning sky is promising a gorgeous day. Still a bit cool, but it’ll warm up in no time with the sun.
The house is still quiet. It was closing in on five by the time everyone was down. Keith left earlier, offering to drop Grace off, who wanted to sleep in her own bed. Not long after my parents went to sleep in the camper, insisting they wanted to give us some space. The boys had been wired when I brought Trinny home, but eventually crashed on the couch again and I ended up carrying them up to bed.
The girls and I stayed up a bit longer, talking. Trinny moving closer to her mom on the couch, and Ollie unable to stop touching her. I could tell they were both exhausted, but weren’t ready to let each other go, so I suggested the two of them take my bed.
When Trinny wanted to take a quick shower, but before Ollie followed her up, she scooted over and curled her body into me. Lifting her face, she softly kissed the underside of my jaw.
“Thank you is not enough,” she whispered. “And I’m too tired to find more adequate words, but let me sleep on it.”
I tried sleeping, dozed in and out, my mind still churning so I got up after an hour or so and put on a pot of coffee.
Extreme circumstances forced all of us together, in one house, but this morning nothing feels forced about it. It just feels right. Easy.
It’ll take some getting used to after next week. My parents will head out and with Pops volunteering to oversee repairs on Ollie’s place, the girls will probably be back across the street by then too.
If it was just about us, about Ollie and me, I’d make her stay. But we have kids, and although my boys both fell asleep on or against Ollie before I carried them to bed, not twelve hours before they’d been upset. I hold no illusions, once things settle down, that won’t pop up on occasion again.
They need time to adjust. We need time to ease into a life together where we have choices, instead of forced together in a pressure cooker.
What I don’t need time for is figuring out what I want. It’s as clear as the day, sitting here this morning, my family under one roof, sleeping easy. This is what I want, every day.
Bugsy lifts his head and his tail starts thumping against the deck boards moments before I hear the sliding door open. I twist my neck to see a sleep-tousled, puffy-faced Ollie coming my way. Wearing one of my shirts, and using her crutch.
“I found the words,” she says smiling beside my chair.
“Need a kiss fir—”
“Eighteen years,” she starts, cutting me off. “From the moment I lost my leg and found I was pregnant with my daughter, I’ve gone at this alone.”
“Baby…”
“Eighteen years of standing guard over that precious gift, nurturing her, protecting her, making sure she would never feel the blowback of the poor decisions that were made before she even drew her first breath.”
“Olivia…” I reach out and wrap my arm around her hips.
“I would’ve drowned, honey,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes and rolling down. “Last night I was paralyzed, the weight of it too much to carry. If not for you—”
I’ve heard enough. “Shut it.” I knife up, grab her by the hips, twist her, and pull her down on my lap where she immediately shoves her face in my neck.
“You pulled me out.”
“Shut it, baby.”
“You brought her home to me.”
“Ollie, enough.”
“Thank you for giving me back my precious—”
I don’t give her a chance to say more, slamming my mouth over hers, tasting the salt of her tears on my tongue.
Ollie—soft, warm, and so fucking sweet underneath her bristle. Her ass on my lap, her hands in my hair, her tongue in my mouth. She’s my gift.
I break off the kiss, keeping my face close.
“I love you.”
What I’d really like to do is strip her bare and show her how I feel with my hands, mouth, and cock, but other than perhaps the couch, all the beds in the house are currently taken, so the words will have to do for now.
Her mouth lifts in a soft smile and her fingers stroke along my jaw. “Yeah, I had a suspicion. And I love you, Joe.”
“Thought you might,” I give her back with a grin before brushing her lips with mine.
She snuggles in, turns her face to the river, and I lean my head against hers.
It’s a fucking gorgeous day.
-
“Can I get you something to drink? We’ve got coffee, beer, pop.”
Cruz turns to Ma who has her head stuck out the door.
“Beer would be nice, thank you.” Then he turns back to me, tilting his head to the pool where Mase, Ryder, and Trinny are soaking. “Glad those guys don’t seem worse for the wear.”
“Slept late. Didn’t get out of bed until noon.”
“What about you guys? You sleep at all? ‘Cause I can do this another time, you know. I’ll be here for at least a couple of days, wrapping things up before I head back to San Antonio.”
“We’re good,” Ollie volunteers, slipping her hand under mine on the armrest, and linking our fingers. “No offense, but the sooner we can start moving forward again instead of backward the better.”
I give her hand a squeeze.
Mom comes out, carrying drinks, and finally takes a seat beside Pops.
“You know Katherine Carey was apprehended early this morning.” She was actually tossed from her bed by Luna Roosberg, one of Damian’s agents, when she pulled a gun from under her pillow as they entered her room, but we’ll stick to Cruz’s story. “And so was Josh Carey. His mother stayed tight-lipped, but he caved at the slightest pressure. He fessed up to the fire and the assault on you.” He looks at Pops. “Katherine knew Trinny was in Europe for two weeks, Ollie had mentioned that, but she wasn’t sure when she’d be back so she sent Josh to find information at Ollie’s place when he was surprised by you. Unfortunately he’d already found a copy of Trinny’s itinerary pinned to her tack board. For the moment, he’s under guard at Mercy Memorial, gettin' some injuries he sustained in the process looked after.” My eyes glide to Trinny, who is hanging on the side of the pool, listening intently. Her gaze comes to me and a little knowing smile slides over her face. I wink back and return my attention to Cruz, who is looking at Ollie. “What’s new is I received a call from Montenegro this morning wanting to confirm your daughter’s safe return, which I did, upon which he revealed he’d called his dog off Adam Szura, which I confirmed as soon as I got off the phone with him. Montenegro also told me where I could find him, he was ready to turn himself in.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I shit you not,” he deadpans, grinning at me. “He was on his way to Durango, when he got a call from Katherine last night. She clearly didn’t know yet that he was on the run from the FBI and cut off from his resources, because she threatened to harm his granddaughter, if he didn’t follow through on his promise to embrace Josh into the famiglia. Apparently when Katherine first alerted him to Trinny’s existence—that had been the plan. Katherine mentioned her son needed settling down, suggested a union with Trinny’s mother would accomplish both that, and bring the girl back in the fold, on the provision Josh would be rewarded with a place at his side.”
“Power,” Ollie says softly, turning to look at Trinny. She’d come clean with her daughter about her parentage in the early morning hours. The girl had taken that in stride too. The good head on her shoulders is a testament to her mother’s parenting.
Cruz nods at Ollie and con
firms, “Power. Something he knew he no longer was in a position to pass on, and not just because the Bureau has all his assets seized. He wasn’t even able to make a move to go after Trinny himself, which is why he called me, knowing I’d be close.”
“What do you mean, he wasn’t even able to make a move?” Trinny asks, pulling herself from the pool and grabbing a towel.
“Sweetheart,” Cruz addresses her, a gentle smile on his face. “We had to call in Flight For Life to transport the old man to Mercy. He’s in bad shape. Cancer took its toll and he’d holed up in a motel outside Aztec, too weak to make it even to the bathroom. They’re doing all they can to make him comfortable, but he doesn’t have long. ”
“I want to see him,” she says firmly, and I can feel Ollie’s fingers twitch against my hand.
“Trinny…”
“No, Mom. I know he’s a bad man. I know he’s harmed a lot of people. I know all that. But I also know that in the end, he tried to do good by me.” Ollie sits up straighter as her daughter walks up the stairs and sinks down on her knees in front of her.
“Honey…” Ollie mumbles, stroking her fingers along Trinny’s cheek.
“I know, Mom, and I still want to give him that. I don’t care what he’s done. This doesn’t cost me anything, and I would have to live the rest of my life knowing that I could’ve eased someone’s last moments, but didn’t. This is for me.”
Ollie
The man in the bed doesn’t look anything like the handsome, imposing father of Vito I remember, or even the ruthless monster I’ve discovered him to be.
The almost white hair is sparse, possibly part age, but for sure as a result of his cancer treatments. His once strong and prominent face now no more than gray pallor covering skeletal features. Hard to believe this man—barely a shadow of what he once was—was the powerful head of a mafia family.
Still, I stop just a few steps into the room.
Trinny slips around me to walk up to the bed, and I have to restrain myself with all I have in me not to grab her and run out.
I let Joe’s strength at my back bolster me. There was no question he’d be right here.
Cruz is too.
I watch as Trinny reaches out and slips her hand in his near lifeless one.
“Hi,” she says softly. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m Trinity. Your granddaughter. You wanted to see me, so…here I am.”
Very slowly the gaunt face in the bed turns in her direction and his eyes flitter open.
“Mio prezioso.” His raspy voice is rough, but the smile on his face is soft. “Siediti con me.”
I understand only a little Italian, and Trinny knows even less, but she seems to understand him, and sits down on the stool beside his bed. The moment she does, he closes his eyes.
He never opens them again when less than an hour later, he blows out his last breath, my daughter still holding his hand.
-
Agent Livingston walks us to Joe’s SUV to say goodbye.
My amazing daughter, her eyes still wet from saying goodbye to a grandfather she never knew she had, is the first to turn to Cruz and throw her arms around his waist, hugging him tight.
“Thank you so much,” she says, lifting her watery smile to him.
“You’re welcome,” Cruz rumbles as she releases him and climbs in the back of the vehicle. Then he adds softly, his eyes on me, “Sonofabitch didn’t deserve what your girl just gave him.”
“He didn’t,” I agree, putting a hand on his arm. “But she did, giving that to him.”
“Won’t argue that.”
Just like my daughter, I slip my arms around him, giving him a hug.
Joe grabs his hand when I step aside; they exchange a look that ends in a chin jerk for both of them. Something was communicated just now, but I have no idea what.
“We’ll be in touch,” Joe says, turning to open the door for me.
“You ever looking for a weekend away, come down to San Antonio. Mickie, my wife, would get a kick out of showing you around.”
“Would love that,” I call through Joe’s open window.
When we drive out of the parking lot, I turn around in my seat and look at my daughter.
“You okay, baby?”
“I will be.”
Yes, she definitely will be.
I smile at her, get one in return and sit back in my seat. Joe’s hand immediately finds my knee and I slip mine in between, lacing our fingers.
“You good, Sweets?”
“We’re moving forward, which means I’m more than good, Joe.”
Joe
I have her braced against the tile, my arms hooked under her legs spreading her wide—water pounding my back—as I power my cock inside her and swallow her moans down my throat.
The moment I feel her warm pussy tighten around me I let go, shooting hot streams inside her body. My knees unsteady, I let her slide down, leaning my weight into her and dropping my head to her shoulder.
“I love you, Ollie,” I mumble with my lips against the wet skin of her neck.
“Me too.” More than her words, her response is given in the way she tightens her arms around me. Holding me up as much as I do her.
My parents left this morning, with the promise to stop by on their way back from Moab, making saying goodbye a little easier.
Trinny is asleep in the basement, where she’s taken up temporary residence on the pullout couch, and the boys are in their rooms, also down for the count.
It’s been a busy week, and we haven’t had much chance to be alone. I missed it. Missed this.
Come Monday, Ollie will be back at her house, which Pops pushed to at least get ready so she could get back into her routine, but I’m not looking forward to not having her around all the time.
“Gonna miss you,” I confess, lifting my head so I can see her eyes. They immediately fill with tears.
“I know. I’m going to miss you too. And the boys.”
Later, when she’s snuggled into my side, hand on my chest, head on my shoulder, and her leg tangled with mine, I share my thoughts.
“We take the summer to ease the kids in. I’m using the time to wall off a room in the basement for Trinny. She’s got her own bathroom down there.”
“Joe, I—”
“Not done, Sweets,” I cut in before giving her all of it. “Your place is sweet, but mine is bigger. I also have the pool and the view. My driveway will fit three vehicles for when you get your new truck. Weekends we spend together. As a family. Issues pop up; we deal with them right away. Dinners we’ll share as a family as much as we can manage, I don’t care in what house. By the end of the summer I want you and Trinny moved in.” She lifts her head and I look into her bright hazel eyes. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, baby, it’s that life is too short to waste precious time.”
Her face melts and she drops her head to my chest. Her voice is muffled but I hear her clearly.
“Okay.”
Epilogue
Ollie
A month later
“Ryder! Get your fingers out of there.”
I give him a stern look even as he shoves said fingers, covered in icing, into his smiling mouth. Taking the knife I smooth out the hole he just dug in Trinny’s eighteenth birthday cake.
“When is she gonna be home?”
“Soon. Your dad is picking her up after work.”
Since Joe was working today, and Trinny went to the mall with Kim this afternoon, I ended up hanging with the boys, so we baked Trinny a cake. Well, I did the baking, and the boys mostly fought over who got to lick the bowl.
I slide the lasagna—my daughter’s meal of choice—in the oven, against better judgment. I know damn well there’s no way we’ll be eating that until after the cake is devoured, but I can always keep it warm.
Mason had his birthday just two and a half weeks ago, and I’d baked him a cake. His favorite meal had been his dad’s burgers, so we had that, but we ate the cake first.
I sit down on a stool at the counter, giving my stump a break. I’m still getting used to the new prosthesis I picked up a few days ago. The clinic had a cancellation and I was glad to get in earlier. This socket fits perfectly, and once the chafing from the old one has a chance to heal, I’ll be right as rain.
The moment Joe’s key sounds in the lock, Ryder starts chanting, “Cake, cake, cake.”
“Take a downer, Bud,” Joe rumbles, walking in ahead of Trinny, a pile of mail in his hands. “Wanna try wishing her a happy birthday first?”
Trinny, her own hands full of bags, nearly gets bowled over when Ryder throws himself at her with a tackle-hug.
“Happy Birthday, Trin.” He turns his gap-toothed grin on her. He just lost both his upper cuspids in one week.
“Thanks, monkey-breath.”
“You’re welcome, blubber-butt.” Smart kid, he’s already backing away, still grinning, when he calls her that. Of course Trinny gives chase and finally tackles him to the couch.
During all this, Joe steps into my space, drops his mouth to mine for a quick kiss, and dumps the mail next to the cake on the counter.
“Did you just call me a—” Trinny threatens before Ryder’s high-pitched squeals have his older brother coming down from his room, throwing himself into the melee. Bugsy, who was sleeping until just now, jumps up and starts barking, not wanting to be left out.
“Baby…” My eyes turn to Joe. “Picked up your mail too.”
“Thanks, honey.” I lift up on my toes and kiss his chin.
“Guys, settle down,” Joe barks, which seems to have zero effect on the tumble of children rolling on the couch. So I give it a try.
“All right, guys, sit at the table. We’ve got cake!”
The next second three still-giggling, flush-faced kids are seated at the dining table, and the dog plops his ass down at my feet.
