Fighter

by Katie Cross

  A warm hand settled on my wrist. I looked up to see Sera with a mixture of concern and compassion on her face. Did I look wrecked? I felt it. Those hours with Ava, at Sadie's bedside in the hospital, filtered back through my mind. Ava had been limp against my body, crying so hard in my arms that she'd thrown up, as Sadie slipped away.

  “I don't mourn Sadie much,” I admitted, and felt like a cold bastard for the harshness of the truth. “Maybe what we could have been, or her presence in Ava's life, but Sadie spent too long getting in between me and Ava for me to be sad she's gone. Sadie was determined to make me as miserable as possible.”

  “She sounds like a lovely person,” Serafina murmured wryly, and something in her response crashed the tension in the air.

  “She tried,” I said, “but she hated me too much. Ava came to live with me last summer after it happened, which is when I came to stay with Mav. I needed his help. I'm not sure what life was like for Ava with Sadie. She refuses to talk about her Mom. But I don't think it was great. She's behind in school, seemed to spend way too much time on her tablet, and is wary of me.”

  “Think she dragged Ava with her to her parties?”

  “Probably.” He nodded. “Social events, social ladders, publicity. It was her love. Her god. She wanted more and more and more and I just wanted to get away from it. To get Ava away from it.”

  A dozen thoughts seemed to stream through Serafina's eyes, like a parade of sorrows, while she took all that in. My stomach still felt like a knot, but I couldn't deny there was also some relief. Sadie was out there now. I didn't have to live under her weight and the worry of what Sera would say when she found out.

  Now Sera could stay or go.

  “Okay,” Sera whispered.

  My brows rose.

  “Okay,” she said again, eyes on mine this time. “Thank you. That helps. The context will help.”

  “You're really going to stay?”

  Sera softened. “Of course, Benjamin.” She stood up slowly, and I wondered if her wince was from more than her ribs. She'd been so vague when I asked her about what happened with her brother. Had he hurt her somewhere else?

  I scrambled to my feet.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I can't tell you how much it means. This will be better for her. So much better.”

  As always, she waved it off, downplaying my gratitude. She padded over to the front door, where a pile of shoes in various stages of muddy disaster were piled. Then she slipped into a pair of flip-flops on the edge and eyed it, like a monster she’d tackle the next day.

  “I'll drive you home,” I said. “Ava sleeps like the dead, and it's just a mile away.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then nodded. “Thanks.”

  The ride to her hotel room was quiet as I dropped her off. She slid carefully out of the car, poorly attempted to hide a wince, then turned back to face me again. “Leave me some money for grocery shopping tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  With a tired smile, she shut the door and disappeared. I waited until she made it back inside her room, then sent a cold glare to a man as he watched her go. The man held up two hands and stumbled away, singing under his breath. For several long moments, I sat there, lost in thought.

  Then I turned back to home, Serafina cluttering my mind.

  9

  Serafina

  That night, I stared at the dark shadows on the hotel ceiling and wished Benjamin was still there. Then I banished that thought.

  For today, I'd had enough of Benjamin. The distance was good, even though I thought I could still smell him. He filled my head and took up space, even when I didn't want him to. Being in his house, privy to his past, only made it worse.

  Although I'd seen him for no more than an hour all day, he lingered in the shadows of the day. The quiet corners of a house that was so forgotten that it would have felt sterile if there wasn't a dirty haze over it. The protein powder next to a fridge stocked with milk and oranges and not much else. Even the piles of laundry smelled a little bit like him. It felt a little like he'd followed me around all day, but hadn't said a word.

  Weary didn't do justice to the state of my mind, but my exhaustion had advanced beyond sleep. Now I just felt wired, trapped in thoughts of Talmage, Ava, and Benjamin. Why, out of the three of them, did I feel like Benjamin was the most broken?

  Frustrated, I punched the pillow and gingerly turned onto my other side. I was too emotionally involved in this already. I shouldn't have asked him to explain himself. Should have just cleaned his house, stocked his fridge, and given him the receipt to pay me back later. It's what Mom would have done, and in these kinds of things, she always did the right thing.

  But I'd asked.

  And he'd answered.

  He could have let it go. Refused to tell me the history between Sadie and Ava. But there had been enough concern and desperation in his eyes that he gave it all up. Now, both of us were mired deeper into this pool of . . . whatever it was. Deep enough that I wouldn't escape now. Not yet, anyway.

  I could help with Ava, organize his life, and get his house clean. Eventually, he'd pull back together. That would give Talmage time to work through whatever he had going on, and then I could move onto my next adventure.

  Because the whole nanny-turned-girlfriend thing had never sounded right to me. Wouldn't be right for Ava. Benjamin would get mixed up in his feelings of gratitude and affection for me being a positive influence over his daughter, think it meant something about the two of us, and we'd plunge into a relationship that would be a bad idea. Most of my relationships had been bad ideas born on infatuation, which only made a nomadic life easier. I almost always had something to leave behind, which motivated me to keep moving on. Nothing had ever inspired me to stay.

  This time, however, I wouldn't recover so easily, so it would be better to just not go there at all.

  With a sigh, I made the decision. I'd support Benjamin, love Ava, and do everything I could for them while I tried to help Talmage, soak up my new mountain adventure, and prepare for the next thing.

  That's all this would ever be.

  The next day, Maverick sent me an email to let me know they'd received my application and were processing it. Expect to hear back in 48 hours, he said. I have no doubt you'll receive a confirmation. :)

  Which meant I had one goal in mind: stock Benjamin's house full of food while I waited.

  That afternoon, I pinched $200 in cash in half and shoved it into my pocket while a squeaky-wheeled cart slipped into the Pineville Market. Warm sunshine heated my back with a gentle persuasion as Ava and I headed inside.

  “The money your dad gave us,” I said to an attentive Ava, “is going to feed you and your father for the next ten days. But I'm going to need your expert input. Are you willing to help me figure out some healthy, delicious meals that you want to eat?”

  She cut me a suspicious glance. “You're not planning more sandwiches are you?”

  “Don't insult me.”

  “Peas?”

  “Not if you don't like them.”

  “Beans?”

  “Maybe in a casserole with a lot of cheese?”

  Relieved, she grinned. “Okay.”

  Once inside the store, I stopped to gaze around. I'd spent thirty minutes on the phone with Mom trying to get meal and snack ideas. Despite what Benjamin likely thought of my culinary skills, I'd almost exhausted my repertoire of family meals already.

  “I'm thinking yummy stuff,” I said as I grabbed a cart. “Liked sweet potatoes or salad that tastes like tacos or apples with peanut butter?”

  Her eyes popped open wide. “Yes!” she cried, “I love apples with peanut butter!”

  “Then let's go,” I cried. “I'll even show you how to make a flower out of apple slices and peanut butter. You're gonna love it. Also, don't let me forget mouse traps. Those buggers gotta go.”

  Ava skipped along next to me. Like her father, she often communicated through throaty noises, whe
ther they were grunts or squeaks of approval. Sometimes, she hummed. For the most part, she trotted along and tried to stuff the cart full of a constant stream of dessert. I appreciated her efforts and felt the same way, but turned her down more often than not.

  And Ava was full of words.

  “Then,” she cried as I put a few groceries on the belt, “Mrs. Morgan said that I did a really good job with my letters and I got Star Student of the Week!”

  A bag of pasta rustled in my hand as I whistled my congratulations. The cashier glanced up to me, looked to Ava, and back to me. Unabashed curiosity crept into her stare as she slowly started to scan each item. I tried to ignore it as some weird fluke—maybe I had food in my teeth or something—but the way her gaze darted between me and Ava had my hackles up.

  Want to take a picture? I wanted to ask.

  Once I finished unloading the groceries and pushed the cart forward with Ava standing on the side, the woman cleared her throat.

  “So,” she drawled. “You're that waitress from the Diner?”

  “Yes.”

  She made a sound as she swiped green onions across the scanner. “And you're taking care of this adorable girl? I saw you drive up in his SUV. I admit, I was quite surprised. He's so . . . careful. So quiet.”

  His SUV rang through my mind. Were we talking about Benjamin because they were buddies? The feeling of having missed a step overcame me. Was there something odd about this situation or was that just me?

  “You're a lovely girl, you know,” the woman crooned to Ava.

  Ava lifted one eyebrow. She carried many of her father's traits, but right then, I appreciated her skepticism the most.

  “We're here to get groceries,” I said. “That's all.”

  Delight illuminated the older woman's expression. “Indeed,” she murmured over a carton of eggs, then leaned forward. “Is Benjamin Mercedy on the dating market again then? Or have you taken him off of it? How long have you been with him? A man like him with a waitress?” She shivered, as if with delight. “It's just too good. Patrice will never believe this!”

  My hands clenched around the cart. Dagny had always rolled her eyes about small-town mountain life and the gossip that often moved like wildfire. I'd always ignored it, assuming she was being dramatic, but the proof lay before me now. Meddling, bored ladies with nothing better to do.

  The phrase a man like him with a waitress skimmed through my mind. The temptation to show her just what this waitress could do to her attitude was tempting, but I let it pass. Then again, I'd listened in to any gossip about Ben just like anyone else. Although I hadn't badgered information from anyone. He was the local celebrity. His very presence put Pineville on the map and probably increased tourism by about ten percent.

  Now?

  I wanted to take one of those stale grocery bags and drop it over her head.

  “I wouldn't know,” I said coolly. “Can we please continue with the groceries?”

  The firm rebuttal in my tone only seemed to delight her more. Her lips curled into a thin, coy smile as she murmured, “I'm sure you wouldn't.”

  My hackles rose. Any moment now and I'd snarl like a dog. She continued, oblivious to my bright annoyance.

  “He seems like a wonderful father. He must be very busy. Does he keep a long schedule? He lives in the neighborhood just behind here, I thought. Bought the old Timm's place, I believe.”

  I ignored her.

  She didn't care.

  “It's been lovely to have someone of his . . . popularity . . . in our town. I'm curious . . . how did you meet him? You must not have been dating long.”

  My face flushed. Keep calm, Serafina, I told myself. Only Ava's presence kept me from absolutely losing it.

  Without missing a beat, the cashier dropped all pretense of checking us out. Her hands rested on the scanner when she looked to my cheek, studied Ava, and back to me. Concerned lines formed in her brow.

  “Is he having a hard time, then?”

  Ava looked at me, face creased with uncertainty. She'd stepped off the cart to move closer to my hip, and I didn't think she was aware of the gesture. I doubted she understood the insinuation this woman had made about her father, but Ava seemed to know this woman was no friend.

  “Manager!” I called as loud as I could. One of my arms lifted into the air as I strengthened my voice. “Can I get a manager over here?”

  The woman gasped. “Whatever is wrong?”

  “Manager!” I shouted.

  Several customers glanced our way. I waved and hoped that would flag someone. Anyone. I didn't want to abandon the last forty-five minutes of work here to buy from another place up the canyon, but I would. My pride—and Ava's and Benjamin's—was worth at least that much.

  The woman fumbled over a response, but thankfully a middle-aged man quickly headed our way from behind a desk. His presence snapped her mouth shut right away and prevented her from saying another word. His expression was wary when he approached.

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  I pointed to the woman. “Your cashier has made insinuations about my life, and the life of this child, that are no business of hers. She's made me uncomfortable with her questions even though I asked her to stop. Can I get someone else to check us out, or shall I just leave all of this here? At this rate, I wouldn't be comfortable returning and you've just lost several hundreds of dollars a month in sales.”

  Gaping, the woman simply stared at me. I met her gaze with a level one of my own. Take that you nosy old biddy, I thought.

  “Of course,” the manager said. “Take a break,” he added as a terse aside to the cashier. The woman's nostrils flared as she huffed, stepped back, and slowly wandered away, as if lost. By the time she'd disappeared into a back room, the manager had nearly finished with our groceries. We didn't speak a word as I handed him the cash, gathered the bags into the cart, and thanked him for his time.

  Ava followed solemnly at my side as we walked out to the SUV, loaded it up with careful attention to my rib, and then climbed into the car. The entire ordeal exhausted me. Tension followed me like a shadow until I sat in the driver’s seat, gripped the steering wheel in my hand, and let out a scream.

  Then I realized I still had a six-year-old in the car.

  To my surprise, she giggled.

  “You okay, Sera?”

  “Fine. Just . . . frustrated. Do you ever get frustrated?”

  Ava peered out the window. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sometimes kids at school are mean to me and I get frustrated then.”

  She plucked at the bottom of her shirt, in a gesture that must have somehow been soothing to her. My heart cracked a little.

  “I'm sorry kids are mean to you.”

  She gave a little shrug. I loosened my grip on the steering wheel and sighed. “Sometimes, at the end of a bad day, you just need to scream.”

  A twitch of a smile appeared on her lips.

  “What do you say about heading home, putting these groceries away, and getting you some apples and peanut butter in a flower?”

  Her whoop of affirmation started us home and I instantly felt better. Something about Ava soothed my rattling bad days.

  10

  Benjamin

  By the time I jogged home the next day, I couldn't help a twinge of stress.

  Would Serafina have had another hard day? Would she be ready to walk out again? Although she'd seemed fine when I dropped the car keys off at her hotel room this morning, there was no telling what havoc Ava could do to a single woman without kids.

  Not having Ava at the MMA Center was both a massive relief and a distraction. At least when Ava was there I could see her, talk to her. But my trainees were already more focused the last two days because I was more focused. I made progress on projects faster than I'd expected without worrying about dinner, or homework, or fending off calls from her teacher.

  Maybe, with a few more days like this under my belt, I could wrap up a few things and make it home before Ava went t
o bed. A bedtime routine sounded like a great connecting point, even if we still had mornings.

  When I slipped through the garage and into the back door, the smell of bacon and lemon filled the air. A quiet song played in the background, accompanied by a low hum that made me smile. The lights were mostly on, except those near the stairs. Ava's pink night light glowed from her door, which was open just a sliver.

  I closed the door quietly. “Hello?”

  “In here,” Serafina called.

  Shock rendered me speechless as I advanced into the room, warmed by the jog. Cool air blew from an overhead vent while I tried to comprehend what I saw. Serafina stood on a stepstool, her hair tied away from her face. She wore a black apron and had every single cupboard in my kitchen open. Pots, pans, dishes, cups, utensils, and more littered the counters. Not to mention clusters of food I'd never seen before, and a piece of paper with two lists scrawled on it.

  “Hey,” I drawled.

  “Sorry for the mess.” She reached in vain for something on a top shelf with her right arm and grimaced. “Just in the middle of something.”

  “Let me get that.”

  “Thanks. Still just a bit sore.”

  She stepped back with a little smile as I reached past her, pulling an old box of unused sprinkles from the back of a cupboard.

  “Interesting,” she murmured, head tilted as I passed them to her. With a lift of my hand, I gestured to all the things scattered around.

  “What's going on?”

  She bit her bottom lip and looked adorably sheepish. “Sorry, yeah. I just . . . got lost down a rabbit hole. Think you can ignore this for one night and morning? I'll have it all finished tomorrow.”