by Katie Cross
“Sorry, I just had to get away from there for a while. My brother, his wife Mallory, Maverick, and a few other siblings are all in the waiting room at the same time and that's the worst idea ever. They're all so freaking intense it's like having a board meeting.”
Tremors of frustration ran through his voice as he spoke. They came out in sharp bursts, like a staccato. The idea of several Benjamin's or Maverick's sent a little shudder through me. Maverick had always been so kind, but there was definitely something big about his size and quick mind. Benjamin, of course, carried himself like a panther, so he always looked like a prowling animal ready to pounce.
“No worries,” I said. “Give it to me.”
He paused. “Give it to me?”
My cheeks heated with the double entendre, and I decided to totally ignore the other connotations. I flapped a hand, as if he could see me, and said, “Yeah. Give it to me. Tell me all about it. Why are you frustrated? What are they saying? What flavor of ice cream would you rather be eating right now?”
“Ice cream?”
The perplexed tone made my eyes roll. Darling man-child, he had no idea how to just be a normal human. Clearly, I'd have to pare this down for him in a far more direct manner. Not for the first time, I wondered about his family dynamics. Did they not know how to talk about their bad days?
Now more than ever, Benjamin needed me. The idea should have scared me, but it didn’t.
“This is an opportunity for you to tell me what's in your head, Ben. Tell me all the things, good and bad. And, you know, what ice cream you're craving. All bad days breed a need for ice cream.”
“Oh.”
“What thoughts are coming up for you after seeing everyone?”
“Are you my therapist now?”
An edge colored the human. Geez, but this man . . . Next he would tell me that he didn't eat ice cream unless it was made from something healthy, like coconut milk or something.
“No, because you couldn't afford me. Give it to me! What are you feeling?”
“Frustration.”
“With?”
“Mom.”
“Why?”
“Because she was four months late to her last cardiology appointment. They were going to do a stress test and could have caught this before she had a heart attack.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah.”
The image of him rubbing the back of his neck filtered through my mind. He sounded agitated. I'd bet all my savings he was pacing somewhere awkward, like a closed lobby, where people thought he might explode.
“And Mallory too?”
He groaned. “Don't get me started on her. She drives me nuts. In the weirdest way possible she's almost an exact replica of my Mom, except she was born in Sri Lanka and immigrated here as a baby. So she's somehow become the mouthpiece for my Mom's wishes in this family and everyone is arguing against what she thinks. But Mallory is taking them all down. Baxter, my brother, is just sitting there and letting it happen because he's totally whipped for her. I think Mallory is nervous, so she just takes charge.”
No wonder Ava wasn't comfortable with her. Mallory sounded terrifying.
“And Mav?” I asked.
“He's the only thing keeping Mallory in check. He's the only one she really listens to.” He sighed. “It has something to do with the fact that he saved her company. Anyway, the bottom line is that everyone is stressed and I don't want to be here.”
The last part came out quietly and I felt a pang of compassion for him. Was there anything more stressful than broken family issues? No.
Could confirm.
“Sounds like a lot, Ben, and it doesn't help that your Mom's recovery is an unknown point amongst all this bickering. I'm sorry it's happening that way. Wish I could be there with you.”
The last bit popped out before I could stop it, but when he said, “Me too,” I couldn't bring myself to regret it. Underneath all those layers of lacking emotional intelligence was a frightened, vulnerable man.
So I snuggled deeper under the covers and said, “Ava had a wonderful day. Would you like to hear about that instead?”
“Absolutely.”
For the next fifteen minutes, I filled him in on all the delightful things she did and said, including the weird moments with the dolls. He confirmed my suspicions when he said, “Sadie loved her, but didn't know how to parent her. A lot like me. I try to play dolls but it's so boring and mind numbing that I only last like ten minutes and get stupid bored and . . .” He sighed. “So that's probably my fault.”
“Well, I'm getting paid for playing dolls and you aren't,” I pointed out. “At the end of a long day, I'm sure there are other things you'd rather do.”
“There are indeed,” he murmured, in a warm sound that reminded me of a purr. Instantly, I was transported back to our almost-kiss. My breath caught and I must have taken too long to recover because he picked the conversation back up at that moment.
“Any word from your brother?”
I frowned. “No, but I did text him. Never heard back.”
“Good.”
“You sound tired,” I said as I fought off a yawn. “Get some sleep? We can talk again tomorrow.”
The response was a blatant invitation that made my stomach flutter a bit. If there was any other perfect moment for him to set a boundary and say no, this was the one. But his response was equally quick and sincere.
“You bet we will. Thanks, Sera. Talk to you then.”
He clicked away as I whispered my goodbye. Seconds later, a final text message appeared. The perfect one to close out a day that didn't have him in it.
Benjamin: Thanks. Your voice was what I needed without realizing it. Be in touch soon.
With a sigh, I settled into a deep, restful sleep, the smell of Benjamin surrounding me.
“Where are we going?”
Ava asked the question the next day, her nose pressed to the window of the SUV. A frothing river passed to our right as we drove out of Pineville and up the canyon, to Jackson City. I flipped on the blinker.
“We are going girl shopping.”
Ava's ears perked up. She immediately straightened. “What's girl shopping?”
“While doing your laundry this morning, I noticed that you wear the same five shirts and two pairs of pants. All of your shirts have bright turquoise, orange, purple, or yellow colors. You have a closetful of clothes that are pink but you don't seem to wear them much. So I thought you could use a little revamp.”
Ava leaned back. “Yeah, those are my favorite colors.” Her nose wrinkled. “Dad bought me a lot of pink.”
“You don't like pink?”
She shrugged. “It's okay. I like dresses. With pockets! Dad didn't get me any dresses, and we haven't really been back to that store yet.”
“Me too, sister. Dresses with pockets are the best. So we're going to buy you more clothes with your favorite colors and more dresses with pockets.”
“Really?” she squeaked.
“Really.”
With a squeal, she kicked the back of the front seat and clapped her hands with a happy chant. Before she'd settled back down, she asked, “Does Dad know?”
“No, but he won't care. He told me I could buy you some more clothes.”
“He bought most of my clothes now.”
“Yeah, he did pretty good. But I think you should pick them from now on, and he agreed. Whattaya think?”
“It sounds awesome!”
We belted out a few pop songs on the way up the canyon, and I luxuriated in the brightness of unfiltered Ava. Rarely did I get her so full of life, and it seemed the prospect of a new adventure brightened her. Benjamin texted me sometime in our travel, so when I stopped at our first red light, I glanced at the phone.
Benjamin: Mom's up and out of ICU as of this morning. Mav and I plan to head back this evening.
* * *
Serafina: Good news! I work tonight, so Ava is going to stay with Bethany.
* * *
Benjamin: Thanks for arranging that.
* * *
Serafina: My pleasure. Fly safe! I'll see you soon?
* * *
Benjamin: I'll stop by to see you tonight.
My stomach gave a little flip. Technically, he could just go see his daughter at Maverick's and then I'd see him Monday morning. But maybe he needed to talk about something with Ava, or just wanted to touch base.
Because we were friends.
I ditched my phone when the light turned, and minutes later Ava and I stood in the middle of a girls section at my favorite clothing store. She stared, wide-eyed, at the glittering options.
“I can buy these?” she whispered.
With effort, I hid my suspicions and said easily, “Whatever you want. You choose. I'll control the budget, okay? You tell me what you like. Let's start there.”
“Dad said I could?”
“He's happy for you to get something you want.”
She nodded wordlessly, but I couldn't say that she was convinced. Why so reticent about Benjamin allowing her to get new clothes? It didn't add up to the dynamic I'd seen between them, but I kept my attention open. Slowly, Ava approached several different shirts. At first, she strolled past them.
When she reached out to touch a bright blue dress with lace trim, her fingers fell away just short of the material. Instead of throwing herself into the options, she just stared at them, a paralyzed expression on her face. I crouched next to her when tears sparkled in her eyes.
“Ava?”
“Mom said Dad wasn't nice,” she whispered. A tear dropped down her cheek. Her lip trembled a little before she pressed on, her voice strained now. “She said I'd never be happy with him, and if he tried to take me away, I should never let him. I could . . . I could only be happy with her. She said he didn't like to spend money and I'd never feel happy at his house.”
The sound of my heart cracking followed her little sob. I grabbed her shoulders so she faced me. Tears spilled down her cheeks in earnest as she cried, “Mom said Daddy would never love me!”
Unable to bear another moment, I crushed her to me. She sobbed into my shoulder. Big, heaving cries as she clung to me. Tears stung hot in my eyes, but I forced them back. This little girl who had lost so much . . . how had she even survived in the first place? I wanted to rake my nails across Sadie's face. What kind of person told a little girl such a thing? No wonder Ava had been so reserved around Benjamin.
When she'd cried the worst of it out, I pulled her away to look at me. Then I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and said, “I love you, Ava. Do you know who else loves you? More than anything in this world?”
She shook her head, wiping a snotty nose off on the back of her sleeve.
“Your daddy. He loves you so much.”
She hiccupped.
“Do you think what your Mom said is true? Do you think you'll always be unhappy with your Dad?”
Mute, she shook her head. Her cheeks were a tearstained red when I gently wiped them off with my thumb.
“I don't either,” I whispered. “I think your Dad loves you more than anything, and he wants you to be happy. That's part of the reason we're getting you new, fun clothes. How does that feel?”
“Good,” she mumbled.
“Are you happy with your Dad?”
She nodded reluctantly, her brow wrinkled. She let out a long breath, and in her silence, I thought I saw the answer.
“Are you afraid your Mom would be mad because you're happy with him?”
Her eyes swam again as she nodded. “I . . . I like it better with my Dad. Mom was gone. I didn't see her.”
I pulled her in for another hug, and she came to me willingly. Her body shook through a few post tear hiccups, then calmed. When I pulled away, some of the composure had returned to her eyes.
“Better?” I asked.
With a trying smile, she wiped away the last of her tears. I pressed a kiss on top of her head, straightened, and took her hand.
“Great,” I announced, “because it's time to get you some new dresses with pockets, my girl. Lead the way and show me anything that makes you happy.”
17
Benjamin
Fresh, mountain air greeted me back to Pineville with the mellow rush of an almost-summer evening. Lights dotted Main Street from the buildings, illuminating the darkening avenue with a few open restaurants. Early season tourists spilled out of the buildings here and there. Stars popped out overhead.
But I ignored all of that.
Sleepless nights and jet lag aside, I had a mission. I'd dropped Maverick off at home, kissed my sleeping daughter's head after staring at her for a long time, then headed for the Diner. A check with Sera's name on it burned a hole in my pocket, but that was just an excuse to see her.
It had only been a few days—in hell, if you asked me—but I couldn't wait to catch up with Serafina. To really talk about Ava even though we'd texted or talked on the phone. Who was I kidding? I just wanted to see her.
Not to mention get an explanation for her evasive text last night that said had a very interesting talk with Ava about Sadie today. Can't wait to tell you about it in person. The in-person part of that had me a little concerned.
Anything with Sadie was problematic.
The Diner parking lot was full. With summer came tourists, and most restaurants extended their hours to accommodate the rush of foot traffic. When I slipped inside, people waited on benches in the main part of the parking lot, and music sang from speakers piped outside. Inside, Fight Night flickered across several television screens in a back room. Two lightweight guys grappled on the screen before the heavyweights would come through.
Normally, it would have sucked me right in. My trainees were probably here to watch it, somewhere in the chaos of people. A madhouse packed the back room of the Diner, accompanied by alternating screams, groans, or shouts depending on what kind of hit the champion took.
Tonight, I didn't care about fights, MMA, or rankings.
Once I stepped through the doors, my eyes scanned the area for Sera's wild hair and work jeans. She usually wore a navy t-shirt that said The Diner across the front, and Bacon + You = True Love on the back. Tonight took me several moments before I saw her slipping into the back room, mugs of frothing beer in her hands. Her hair was tied away from her face in a messy riot of curls on top of her head. She appeared frazzled, the color high on her cheeks. An apron tied around her waist gave away her curves, and I didn't like that. Not with a den of drunk men at her hands.
I tried to fight my tension as Dagny stepped forward and asked, “T-table for one?”
“No, thank you. I'm here to speak with Serafina?”
Dagny brightened. “Sure. Have a s-seat at the counter and I'll let her know you're h-here.”
Instead of settling on the only open, frayed stool, I leaned on the counter and kept an eye on the shouting room of men. They packed in there so tight Sera could barely maneuver her way back out through the crowd. My hands fisted in front of me as I watched her try.
“Hey man,” said a voice from my side. “How are you, brother?”
A hand clasped my shoulder, and I turned to see Hernandez standing next to me. Without his sheriff's uniform bulking his already strong shoulders out, I almost didn't recognize him. We'd done some training sessions together since I arrived, then he finagled a contract between us and the county to do more deputy MMA training with new deputies. I grinned when I saw him.
“Hey.” We clasped hands and bumped chests. “How are you?”
“Can't complain.” He shrugged, then gestured to the screens in the back. “Came to grab some dinner, but it's getting a bit rowdy back there. Thought I'd hang out a bit and just see what happened.”
“Don't want to miss any action?”
He grinned, then muttered, “You know it. Crazy gringos.”
His observation immediately put my attention onto the back room, and I turned just as Serafina began to worm h
er way back out, a tray of empty glasses in her arms. She looked up, saw me, and grinned.
That's when a nearby drunk idiot touched her back side.
He stood, shoving his body into her with a drunken cry. She lurched to the side with a gasp, glasses sliding off the tray as he brazenly reached for her chest. Glass shattered as the mugs fell to the ground.
And I moved.
Within seconds I'd crossed the floor. The next thing I knew, a groaning body lay under me and someone grabbed my shoulder, which was pulled back with a ready fist.
“Ben, get off him.” Jayson spoke directly in my ear. The world had gone oddly silent. “Now.”
In a flash, I took the new scene in. Eyes staring at me. Drunk guy on the floor. Beer pooling on the floor at my side. No blood. No pain in my knuckles. I hadn't hit the bastard yet, but I was a second away from it. Both hands up in the air in surrender, I gained my feet and stepped back.
“You saw what he did?” I asked Hernandez.
“Every second. Now get out of here. Someone give me a phone. Let's get this guy in the drunk tank at county.”
“Saw it, coach!” piped up one of my trainees from the other side of the room. A chorus of three other voices chimed in.
Duly exonerated, but thrumming with the urge to sock that guy, I spun around to find Serafina. She stood in the doorway, eyes wide, the empty tray clutched to her chest. I walked up to her, but stayed a few steps back. If I got too close, I'd pull her into a kiss that would stir all kinds of questions. People were already wondering what the hell I was doing anyway.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Fine.”
“How much longer in your shift?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Go to it,” I said. “I'll wait for you at the counter.”
“But—” Her reply faltered until she finally nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
