by Cara Dee
The park looked a hell of a lot better now. The owner had delivered on his upgrades, without raising the lot rent too much. Less concrete, more grass and trees. The playground wasn’t a tetanus hazard anymore, and the community pool had been resurfaced.
Reaching my car, I popped the trunk and stashed the groceries next to Ace’s bags.
Ace climbed into the back seat, which was unlike her, but when I passed her, I saw the several reasons tumbling out of my shirt. A bunch of shit just fell out when she opened it. Without a care in the world, she started browsing through her loot. Nail polish, body glitter, nail stickers, some candy, a pack of gum… I blew out a heavy breath and bent down, resting my arms on the edge of the door, and I scratched my eyebrow with my car key.
“Ace. What the fuck have we said about shoplifting?”
She looked up at me, eyes wide with innocence. “No one saw me! I swear. And I made sure there were no security tags.”
“I don’t fucking care.” I clenched my jaw, irritated as fuck, and pinned her with a serious look. “We don’t shit where we eat. You’re here every goddamn week—either with me or with Gramma—and if you get caught, you can’t come back. You hear me?”
She dropped her gaze and chewed on her bottom lip.
It robbed me of some of my anger, and it became a struggle to stand firm. “I’m not fuckin’ around, Paisley.” Using her real name meant business. She knew that. “Don’t shoplift here again, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
Fuck. She looked up with those big puppy-dog eyes of hers, and when they flooded with unshed tears, I didn’t stand a motherfucking chance.
“Put your seat belt on,” I muttered and got behind the wheel.
Kids.
Two
“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” I asked.
It was the main reason I’d driven us straight out into the desert after we’d dropped Paisley off at Ma’s place. We were supposed to work, but Case had been acting weird all week. Strung tight, rattled, lost in his own world.
The desert was his place to refocus. It wasn’t the first time I’d pulled into a rest stop near Red Rock, and it wouldn’t be the last.
He paced in front of my truck and lit up a smoke.
“I’m starting to like the kid,” he blurted out eventually. “It’s freaking me out. Today when I picked her up at day care, I told some bitch off for speaking baby talk with her. I hate that shit. But it was the feeling, you know? Someone was crossing a line, and I felt this urge to protect the girl from it.”
It was too soon to grin. It would only piss him off. But the relief… Not to mention the warmth that filled my chest. It felt good. I leaned back against the truck and let him get it all out.
“She was supposed to be this annoying kid that Tia was forced to bring along everywhere because she couldn’t find a sitter,” he said, still pacing. “We were never meant to even like Paisley, Boone.”
I knew that. There’d been no slot for a kid in our life. No place where we could sit a kid down and go, “Okay, so she’s part of it all now.” But things changed.
Everything had changed.
“They’re fast,” Ace noted.
“Yeah.” I stood behind her on the sidelines of the soccer field and ran my fingers through her crazy long waves, waiting for Boone to show up. When our girl wanted a braid, he was much better. I could do a haphazard ponytail at best.
The team they were facing today ran around on one half of the field, close to where we were standing, and I liked Ace’s way of preparing. She could warm up anywhere, but she could only study her opponent right here and now.
“You’ll be on the lookout for that number nine,” I said.
“I was just thinkin’.” She nodded. “By the way, do you love me, Daddy?”
I shrugged to myself. “You’re all right, I guess.”
She giggled and peered up at me.
I smirked and dipped down, pressing a smooch to her forehead. “Of-fucking-course I do. What do you want, and how much is it gonna cost me?”
She knew that one. “Lunch at Denny’s.”
I furrowed my brow. “We already said we were going after the game.”
“Yeah, but…” She turned around to face me, and she grabbed my hand. Then she unleashed the doe eyes on me. “I want Dad to come along.”
Fuck.
This was one of those times I didn’t allow myself to hesitate or get bitchy. “Okay.” I nodded and swallowed the resentment that bubbled up. Not at her, just…our fucked-up situation. I didn’t wanna see him more than I had to. “The three of us will go out.”
“Yes!” She fist-pumped the air, only making me feel like a dick. “Just one more small thing.” She pinched her fingers together to demonstrate how small. “I need you to admit that ‘The Sign’ is the best song Ace of Base ever made.”
Get the fuck out with that nonsense. I laughed at the ridiculousness and folded my arms over my chest. “You’ve lost your goddamn marbles. It’s the most overrated song by them.”
Everyone in their right mind knew it was the underdog “Life Is a Flower.”
Ace couldn’t argue with me because I was right—or because Boone showed up and she forgot I existed for a beat. She ran over to him and jumped into his arms, to which he picked her up and positioned her on his hip like back when she’d been little.
To him, she was still tiny, I guessed. He dwarfed most people around him, including me, even though he only had a couple inches on me in height.
Fuck him.
“Can you braid my hair?” she asked, holding up a rubber band.
“Sure thing.” He set her back on the ground when they reached me, though he paid me no mind whatsoever. Not even a hello.
Asshole.
“You’re coming out to lunch with us afterward, just so you know,” Ace mentioned to him.
“All right.” Boone frowned to himself but made no further comment, and he didn’t look my way to confirm or ask anything. He just trapped the rubber band between his teeth and started braiding Ace’s hair.
Something was wrong with him, and it pissed me off. He looked tired and couldn’t pretend to be happy to be here. He usually loved coming to her games.
As soon as he finished with her hair, Ace beamed up at him and gave him a big hug before she ran off to join the team. Her coach gave her a smile, but the look he sent me from halfway across the field was anything but friendly.
I blew him a kiss.
He was just pissy because I’d gotten into a heated argument with the ref once. Or twice. A few times. It happened.
With the game about to start, I bent down and picked up the two camping chairs I’d brought and my cooler and walked off to the side. More parents had shown up in the past ten minutes, and I was already on a tight leash. If I wasn’t on my best behavior, they’d suspend me from attending permanently, and it wouldn’t surprise me around this bunch of prissy bitches if blocking the view was an infraction.
I glanced over my shoulder and noticed Boone wasn’t following. “Oi. You comin’ or not?”
He looked my way, visibly exhausted, and made no reaction. He followed, but his face was blank. It was as if someone had punched the life out of him.
It rattled me. It freaked me the fuck out. My hatred toward him took a shitload of energy to maintain, and if something was seriously wrong with him, I feared what it would do to me. I could already feel a rock of worry growing in my gut.
I unfolded the chairs in a spot where we’d have the perfect view of our daughter scoring goals, and I sat down and opened the cooler.
“You want a beer?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I popped two cans into a couple koozies and handed him one.
Like shit attracted flies, one of the mothers was quick to come over to us.
“You can’t drink beer here,” she snapped.
I eyed her over the brim of my shades and held up my can. “Are yo
u blind? It says right here.” I pointed to the text on the koozie. “‘It’s just soda, dumbass.’” Last year’s Father’s Day gift from Ace, with help from Boone. I’d helped her order a customized tool belt for him. Hot pink, just like my koozies.
“You think this is funny?” The woman did not like me. “For heaven’s sake, it’s ten in the morning.”
That one pissed off Boone. “Never you fuckin’ mind what we do at ten in the mornin’. Take a hike.”
For one brief second, I was flooded with energy and memories from better times when it’d been Boone and me against the world. When it’d been us, like a team, raising Ace together. Working together. Spending most of our time together.
It was a punch in the gut.
The woman sneered at us before she stalked off and muttered about her love for the O’Sullivan boys.
I interpreted it that way, at least.
I leaned back in my seat and took a swig of my beer, and fuck, it tasted good. Ice-cold beer, sun shinin’, about to watch my daughter kick ass on the soccer field. I’d had worse mornings.
“You coulda said hello earlier,” I pointed out. “No need to be rude.”
Boone let out a breath and faced the field. “Don’t start with me, Case. If I say hello, you tell me not to talk to you. If I say nothing, I’m rude. Just gimme a break today.”
Funny how quickly that feeling from our glory days disappeared.
The rock in my gut doubled in size as I sat there and side-eyed him and sipped my beer noisily. Back in the day, he would’ve whacked me upside the head. Now, nothing. Not the slightest reaction.
I shouldn’t bother. I hated him, right? He’d hurt me too fucking much. He’d broken the only promise I’d ever asked him to uphold. More than once. The last time, almost four years ago, became too much for me. Even though he didn’t know, even though he’d never intended to, he’d shattered my fucking heart.
I’d walked away. I’d told him he was dead to me.
Three beers and two Slim Jims got me through the game. Our team lost, but Ace had delivered two goals, so she still had every reason to be proud of her achievement.
We met up at the nearest Denny’s, and Ace and I were seated when Boone stepped out of his truck out in the parking lot. I knew what he liked, so I’d already ordered for him. My stomach snarled with hunger, which almost hurt because of the worry I couldn’t let go of.
At some point during the game, I could’ve sworn Boone’s eyes looked glassy. For no apparent reason.
“What took you so long, Daddy?” Ace glared playfully as he sat down next to her.
“Had to stop for gas.” He kissed the top of her head. “Y’all ordered?”
I nodded once. “I got you your usual combo.”
“Thanks.” He rested his arms on the table and cracked his knuckles, drawing my attention to his ink. We were both tatted up all over, and I liked his tribute to Ace. The little aces of spades across his knuckles, and then on the side of his hand, in cursive writing, it read Aisley Paisley, which had eventually morphed into her nickname Ace. Boone still called her his Aisley Paisley sometimes, and Ace pretended she loved it because she loved him. More than that, she was fiercely protective of him.
A feeling I used to relate to a fuckload.
Despite his intimidating stature, Boone was the sensitive bastard in the family.
Ace’s teddy bear daddy.
I swallowed the grief that threatened to put another dent in my armor of hatred, and I clenched my jaw and looked away.
I wasn’t gonna be able to let this go. Angering him, bugging him, saying things that stung, was nothing. It was even a stupid goal of mine. But this was something else. It wasn’t about cuts and scrapes anymore.
His hurt, or whatever it was, ran deep.
Our food arrived, and I nodded in thanks and grabbed my fork. Ace and I usually shared our meals when we were here, one stack of pancakes and one order of toast, scrambled eggs, and sausage. The fact that Boone tucked into his two plates filled with all kinds of food wasn’t necessarily reassuring, because he was an emotional eater. The hash browns disappeared in three stabs of his fork, and then he was drowning his pancakes in syrup while he went for his bacon and eggs.
It was time to say something. It was time to forge a connection so I could have some time to figure out what the hell was up with him.
“Darius called me the other day,” I said.
Ace’s dark-brown eyes lit up with excitement. “Is he visiting? Is Uncle Ryan coming too? Can he bring the babies?”
“Slow down, hon,” I chuckled. “I don’t know yet. It’s for a job.” I slid my gaze to Boone and swallowed my dread about what this could do for my mental health. “I told him we’d take it—together.”
He frowned and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “What kinda job?”
“Recon, mostly.”
There was a big fish named Alfred Lange who needed to be fried. It would be Boone’s and my job to lay the groundwork.
Darius had been right. I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own. I’d been planning on calling a couple friends who were heavily connected, but it went without saying that I preferred to work with my brother. I couldn’t deny that.
“I thought we didn’t take jobs together anymore,” Boone said.
Yeah, well. I thought I had an estranged brother who didn’t cry at insurance commercials and when watching our daughter play soccer.
Shit changed.
It didn’t escape my notice that Ace was stuffing food in her face while watching us like a spectator at a tennis match.
“You think too much,” I settled for saying. “Come over tonight so we can go through the intel Willow sent me. Ace can have a sleepover with Gramma.”
“Yes, I sure fucking can,” she replied with a grin.
I winked at her.
Three
“Pipe the fuck down!” Case yelled and banged on the wall. Our neighbors were at it again. If they weren’t screwing too loudly, they were using each other as punching bags.
I sat at our tiny kitchen table and tried to get Paisley to eat more.
But good luck getting her to finish her mac and cheese when Case was yelling up a storm. Her dark eyes widened until they were almost round, and she sat stiff as a stick in her booster seat.
“Don’t make me bring a baseball bat over there!” Case shouted.
I cleared my throat pointedly. He was one curse away from scaring the poor girl.
He glanced back at me, then at Paisley, and scratched the side of his head. “Come here, sweet pea. You can help me.” He picked her up from the seat and returned to the wall. “Like this.” He started banging on the wall again. “Stop including your neighbors in your fights!”
Paisley was no longer scared. A big smile lit up her face, and she began pounding her fists on the wall too. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” she yelled.
“That’s my girl.” Case hugged her tightly.
“Oh, Casey. Why?”
I smirked. “Why what?”
Ma sighed heavily and shook her head. “You know very well. You shouldn’t encourage her like that. The pins are bad enough.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s a joke. It’s funny!”
And the pins were priceless. Ace was mildly obsessed with funny pins that she could fasten on her backpack and clothes.
“Only if people know the whole story,” Ma grated.
She piped down when Ace reappeared in the hallway. She’d bolted as soon as I’d stopped the car because she had to pee.
I bent down and gave her my cheek. “Be good. I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow.”
She nodded and kissed my cheek. “You be good too, Dad. Okay?”
“I promise.” I kissed her on the forehead and spotted Boone coming from the kitchen.
He managed a grin at her T-shirt. “I fuckin’ love it, baby.”
“Right?” she exclaimed. “Dad took me to a place at the outlet mall yesterday where you can person
alize your clothes just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
I smiled and scratched my nose.
Mom huffed and threw her hands up in surrender before she just walked off.
Poor woman.
In my opinion, a tee with the words, “Muh daddy’s muh uncle, muh uncle’s muh daddy” was simply brilliant humor.
From an early age, Ace had loved to slide that into conversation with everyone from the old guy at the gas station to the girl taking our order at Wendy’s. One way or another, she let people know her fathers were brothers.
“You ready to go?” I asked Boone.
He inclined his head. “I’ll follow you.”
Oh, right. He hadn’t actually been to my place.
Ten minutes later, with a remix of “Mr. Saxobeat” pouring out of the speakers of my car, I rolled into Paradise Parkview with my brother in tow. I nodded my head to the beat and drove past the main office, the playground, and took a right to get to 4th Lane where I had my trailer. But apparently, we weren’t allowed to call them trailers anymore. The new owner was putting “manufactured homes” in all the brochures and sounded like a broken fucking record. Even into the name of the park, which was actually now Paradise Parkview Manufactured Home Club, your affordable sanctuary on the edge between Paradise and Winchester.
Giving the trailers a fresh coat of white paint and renaming the park was like giving a hot dog a French name and calling it fine dining.
I parked next to my trailer and sat there while I waited for the song to end.
It’d been ages since I’d gone out. It was time. I needed to hit up a club soon or something, maybe get laid.
“Are you comin’, sunshine?” Boone hollered.
