by Finn, Emilia
“Will he walk in with his posse of girls?” He chuckles. “Those Roller daughters would help him celebrate.”
“You’re very observant, DeWhit. And yes, I suspect his posse will be with him tomorrow. Evie won her fight too, so they’ll be rowdy. But seeing as those girls are old hands at this, their following him around will be less about celebrating and more about his leg. They’ll worry it’ll fail, and he might fall. So they’ll pretend they’re celebrating, but really, they’ll be circling and preparing to catch him.”
“They’re good friends,” he grumbles. The sound of stubble rubbing against fabric and a soft grunt makes my stomach warm. He’s snuggling in and getting comfortable, and a massive – stupid – part of me wishes we were lying in the same bed. I want to slide my legs between his and snuggle in; I want to lie on his shoulder and play with the tags he hangs around his neck. I want to pretend. “They’re good kids at that place.”
“Yeah, they really are.”
“How’d you deal with the fight?” I can hear the smile in his voice. “How many times did you try to flatten the other kid?”
“None.” I laugh under my breath, then amend, “Well, I suppose I could have handled the fight a little better. I might have been somewhat wound up and fidgety.”
“Fidgety,” he snorts. “I bet.”
“Shut up,” I spit, with absolutely no venom at all. “I did the best I could, okay? I didn’t want to watch him fight. I didn’t want to watch last time either, or the time before that. But I did; I was present and supportive, and only a super small part of me considered snapping his leg again so he can’t go pro.”
“Katrina!” His mock gasp makes me smile. “You would sabotage your own son’s fighting career? How dare!”
His exclamation tosses me back a whole decade to when Mac was a toddler and he’d cry how dare? when I did something he didn’t approve of. How dare I make him dinner he didn’t like? How dare I toss his eleven billionth drawing of a rainbow into the trash? How dare I forget to borrow a new library book that week, so we’d have something fresh and new – and free – to read? It’s a kid thing, a humorous statement that always made me want to hear it again.
I wished away so many of our years together, all in the pursuit of an easier time. Next month, we’ll have a little more money. Next year, Mac will be in school, and I can work a little more. Next Christmas, I’ll be able to buy my baby a gift that comes in its original packaging, rather than something from the local secondhand store that I’d scrub clean and claim was new. I was incapable of stopping in the moment and enjoying what we had, and I was terrified someone would sweep in and take what little we had away.
“A part of me considers it every day,” I shamefully admit. “If he can’t fight, he won’t get hurt. If he can’t fight, his dreams of riches and fame can’t come true. If he’s neither rich nor famous, then a lot of the people who will want to use him won’t get the chance.”
“Katrina?” His voice soothingly rumbles into my ear. “Your momma bear is showing.”
I breathe a small laugh through my nose and bring my blankets up to cover my face. “I honestly don’t know how to put it away. It showed up when I peed on a stick, and that was exactly half of my lifetime ago. It’s been a part of me for so long, I don’t know how to switch it off.”
16
Eric
Gemma and I sit in the dark while I press my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. The only thing we hear are footsteps on the floorboards, searching hums, and Gem’s heavy breathing as we await our doom.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Gem’s eyes widen with panic, her heart slams against mine, and her hands turn fidgety.
“I’m coming to find you! Areeeee you under the bed?” The sounds of our covers whipping up make Gem twitch in my lap. “No. Hmm…” More footsteps. “Areeeeee you behind the door?” The door slams against the closet we hide in.
Twitching in my lap, Gem pries my hand from her mouth and shows off a magnificent smile. “We’re almost found.”
“Shh.” I rest a finger over my lips, then lean forward and replace my finger with her lips. Cupping her face and sliding my tongue in, I groan as the closet door swings wide and light from our bedroom floods our small space.
“Daddy! How dare?”
Busted, I turn and flash my most innocent grin. “What?” I grab Callie around the waist when she stands over us with attitude. Tugging her in amid silly screams and floating hair just like her mom’s, I pepper kisses all over her chubby cheeks. “You found us, baby.”
“You were kissing Mommy!” My four-year-old grunts and giggles in the same breath, tries to fight me off, but snuggles closer, lest her mommy take her place. “You were supposed to be hiding!”
“We were hiding, Cal. And you did such a good job of finding us.”
“No more kissing Mommy!”
“I’m always gonna kiss Mommy.” I tug my wife forward so we create an A-frame over our thrashing daughter, and with the smile only a man who knows happiness can give, seal our lips together.
“Daddy! How dare?”
* * *
Just as Katrina predicted last night, Mac turns up to the diner the next morning with the biggest head known to man, an arrogant swagger, and a broad chest. His friends follow him in, which means he doesn’t try to sit with me.
I’m okay when there’s no other choice or when he needs help with his homework, but when his friends are near, there’s no way the champion fighter is going to sit with an old man. Katrina rolls her eyes when Mac retells his story for the billionth time, swats the back of his head as she delivers plates of food the kids didn’t order, and laughs when the arrogant Evie Kincaid shuts Mac down with a challenge to fight.
“I know your weaknesses, Macallistar.” The curly-haired teen sits in the booth so her back is to mine and her wild hair tickles my arm. The kids eat bacon strips and pancakes with large dollops of whipped cream. They chatter about fights they’ve won in the past and fights they intend to win later on.
It’s like a glimpse into the future. Like I’ve switched the channel on a TV, so now I see the group of six, Evie, Bean, and their cousin Bryan squished in one side. And Mac, Benny, and Benny’s little sister, Livi, sitting opposite. They laugh and toss food; they heckle each other and declare a war of sorts that they’ll settle in the octagon after school, and when they’re done, not one of them leaves a mess for Katrina to clean up. They bus their own table, clean up spilled water, wipe down the bench seat, spray and wipe the table clean, and as a parade, don their schoolbags and accept juicy kisses from Katrina on their way out the door.
Katrina stands by the now empty table and wrings a towel between her hands. “Make good choices, guys.”
“You know us, Miss Katrina.” Evie stops at the door with a smug grin. “We always make good choices.”
Katrina lifts a skeptical brow. “Yes, I do know you, Evelyn, which is why I’m urged to remind you not to be dumb.”
I chuckle in my seat and watch the crew file out the door. Mac is the last through, and even with his limp more pronounced today than it was this time yesterday, he turns back and smiles. “I love you, Mom. Have a good day.”
“You too, babe. Go learn stuff.”
The kitchen staff dings their bell as the door closes, and like on a timer, my stomach jumps up to attention, since I know it’s for me. Collecting the plate and a roll of cutlery, Katrina moves across the diner in an unintentional sashay, a seduction where the succubus in her eyes makes promises that include forever.
Sliding the plate of bacon and eggs in front of me despite the fact I ordered a burger, Katrina smiles and slides onto the bench opposite me for the first time ever. Starving one second, nervous the next, I sit taller and unwrap my utensils while this woman, this fighter pulls the scarf from her hair and lets it hang free for a moment. It’s still only eight in the morning, but we didn’t hang up until after three, and she’s been here long enough that her lip
stick needs a touch-up. Too long. She pulls her legs up so she sits cross-legged, smooths her hair back, and watches me with a shy smile. “Morning.”
I was with Gemma since junior year in high school. She was in my grade, and because we were both nerds with near perfect grades, we earned certain rewards in classes – like the ability to sit together. Not only were we not a distraction for each other, but we helped the other. Where Gemma needed help in math, I excelled and helped, and though I struggled in science, she made up for it and made us both stronger. We were, according to everyone who knew us, perfect for each other. And because it felt so easy, I never had a chance to become nervous around her.
But now here I sit in a diner with a greasy breakfast, three hours sleep, the woman I’m starting to get way too invested in, and her smile makes me nervous as hell.
“Hey.” I fidget with my knife and fork. “You look real pretty today.”
At least she blushes, which brings me comfort when I worry I might be the only one suffering nerves. “Thanks. Sleep well?” Reaching forward, she snatches up a piece of bacon and eats with a pink blush in her cheeks and a dancing sparkle in her eyes.
“I slept okay for a bit. Till my phone was blowing up with booty calls that didn’t end in booty.”
“Sucks for you.”
I chuckle. “Nah.” I cut my breakfast and watch the egg yolk run, then I mop it up with a slice of bacon. “I’m glad you called. It was nice talking to you in the dark.” Frowning, I stop and look around. “Aren’t we violating your secrecy rules right now?”
She snorts. “It’s not a national security thing. No one will swoop in and kill us if they find us talking. It’s more of a let’s not fuck in front of my kid thing.” Her words are soft, so no one else can overhear, but still, her sentence makes my stomach jolt for a plethora of reasons. “Everyone seems to wanna ship us anyway, so talking isn’t going to be a huge nugget of gossip.”
I stop chewing and frown. “What the hell does ‘ship’ mean?”
She takes my coffee with a snicker and sips, since I guess we’re doing that now. “I forgot you were old and don’t know the new lingo.”
“I’m not old!”
She’s so beautiful when she smiles and teases. She’s in her element when she gets to make a guy defensive. “‘Ship’ means, like, supporting a relationship. They’re pairing us up, betrothing us, if you will. They’re likely mashing our names together, so Eric and Katrina is probably Ericka, or Katric, or something equally as lame. Everyone thinks they get a say in what we do, but I’m gonna talk to you if I wanna. Mac’s at school, and he’s the only person I need to shield, so Stefan can mind his own damn business.” Snapping her head around, she busts the stout guy at the doorway and sends him bustling away on a squeak. “I dunno… I guess I’m in a decent mood today.”
“Which is pretty surprising considering how little sleep you got.”
“I know!” Snickering, she drinks my coffee dry and nods as though to encourage me to eat. “I’ve been feeling a little low lately, but today’s good. My son is happy; my bills are paid; my ex is somewhere else in some other state and didn’t call me to whine about how his life sucks.” She leans forward a little as though to tell a secret. “And I’m kinda… I dunno…” She shrugs. “I’m into you, I guess. Crushing seems too high school, and ironically, too much commitment. But you’re handsome. You’re nice. You don’t want anything from me, and there are so few people who want to spend time with me just because, and not because I can do something for you.”
“I’m not a user.”
“I know. And you took my phone call last night, even knowing you wouldn’t get laid. I tried to hang up after ten minutes, and still, you hung on, you wanted to talk. And none of it was innuendo.”
“You think men don’t know how to talk to women without it being about sex?”
She shrugs. “Pretty much. I expected you to tell me to touch myself at least once. But you didn’t, and since you didn’t, I find myself smiling today. I’m stupidly in lust with you, Eric, simply because you’re nice and don’t expect anything of me. Plus, the broad chest thing.” She blushes. “It makes me happy that I can be in this space. And equally happy that I’m not a raging bitch on such little sleep. I suspect at this point, it’s hysteria, but whatever.”
She’s cute, even if I want to slap her hand away from my bacon. “Are you normally a monster when you’re sleep-deprived?”
“Oh God.” She snorts and takes an inelegant bite. “You have no clue. You think I was mean that night Zeke was here? Try me after a sleepless night. You’ll find out how truly mean I can be. I should be a raging psycho today, but I took an iron pill, did ten minutes of yoga, drank your coffee, and I swear…” She lets out a satisfied sigh. “I’m happy.”
“Have dinner with me?” The words escape before I can stop them. They float in the air between us, irretrievable, irreversible, and oppressive as they settle and create a deafening silence. I’ve asked this question before, and though she wasn’t a raging bitch about it, I was still offered a polite no and an extra cookie with my coffee as though that were sufficient replacement.
“I mean…” I drag in a deep breath and try again. “Please? It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It can still end with a one-night stand. Or not,” I add when she lifts a brow. “It can be whatever you want it to be. It can even be while you’re on shift here during your thirty-minute break. I’ll take twenty of them; you can have the other ten to use the bathroom and get ready for the rest of your shift. I just wanna eat a meal with you and maybe hold your hand.”
“We’re eating a meal together right now.” She takes another bite and flashes a wide grin. She seems so carefree today. So truly relaxed in a way I haven’t seen for so long. She’s never looked at me this way before, but I’ve seen it, with Stefan, with Ray. Even with Mac. I was always on the outside, so I got the regular greetings and careless goodbyes, but I was still witness to her smiles.
Until Zeke decided to snap his fingers and demand service.
“One time, Katrina. One dinner. No promises, no shipping, nothing that would resemble commitment or added baggage. I just crave an evening with you, food, a beer, preferably with no audience, but if you need that, then I’ll book a crowded restaurant to make you happy. I want to spend time with you where the only thing you have to worry about is your outfit.”
She watches my face and studies my eyes while hers narrow. It’s almost as though she’s waiting for the lie to present itself, like I’m manipulating something from her, something she never agreed to. And, well, truthfully, I kind of am. I want more of her time, and she already told me she has so little of that to offer.
“Do you promise this won’t come back and hurt us later?” Her eyes flicker between mine. “Do you swear this won’t make me cry? Because I don’t have room for more heartache. I can’t take it.”
Gemma’s smile flashes through my mind.
“Do you promise it’s just a meal, and it won’t hurt my son?”
Callie’s infectious giggle plays through my mind as clearly as if she were sitting right beside me.
“Do you promise you won’t make me cry, Eric? Because I can’t take on more trouble. I’m literally at the end of my rope. I have no capacity to carry anyone or anything else, so if you’re going to hurt me, let’s be up front about it, save me the anguish, and we can just continue the way we are. This is working.” She points between us. “Forty minutes a night. Fast, hot, pleasurable. It’s working. Don’t ruin it.”
I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. I squeeze and make no mention of the way her pulse races beneath the delicate skin of her wrist. “I promise I will never intentionally hurt you.” I choose my words carefully. “I promise not to add to your load. I just want a couple hours alone with you. That’s literally it. Nothing more, I swear.”
“Does it matter what time?”
My brows furrow. “Hmm?”
She sits back, pulling her hand back to her
lap. “I told you at the Bishop thing, I only get like one night off a year. I won’t get another for a long time.”
“So here?” I glance around. “I don’t mind having it he–”
“No. Every year, the gym has this thing they call a lock in. Essentially, it’s a massive sleepover for all the kids. The adults supervise; they lock the doors around seven in the evening, and literally no one comes in or out until after breakfast the next day. Mac has done the last couple, and so far so good. No trouble.”
“Okay…”
“The next lock in is this Friday. Since I knew Mac would be having fun with his friends and not in danger or trouble, I picked up another double shift. I was going to work without guilt, ste–”
“Wait.” I set my fork down with a clang. “You feel guilty for working?”
“Yes. I’m here sixteen hours a day most days. No kid wants that life, but…” She shrugs. “We get what we get, and we don’t throw a fit. It’s better than homelessness. Anyway, I was going to steal a slice of the pie after work, and take my ass home to watch a movie and enjoy being alone for an evening.”
And now I’m nervous again. “Well… Would you be willing to waste your free time on me?”
She laughs under her breath and tosses the last of my bacon into her mouth. “If you’re willing to make it a late night, we can do dinner after work. It’d be like eleven-thirty dinner, which is frankly, kinda dumb. But it’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take it,” I rush out. “I’ll pick you up from here at the end of your shift?”
“Maybe pick me up at midnight?” she ponders out loud. “Give me time to run home and change. You organize dinner, since I don’t wanna.” She laughs. “For that one single day, I won’t have to choose or make dinner. Then you can pick me up at home?”
