Estelle shook her head sadly and sat down, started passing the food around. “That’s just silly when it’s much easier to buy more.” She scooped rice and beans onto her plate. Gave a small shrug. “Oh, well. I suppose it would have been a waste if he had let me buy him proper dishware now. He’d probably leave it all behind when he moved anyway.”
Char, in the act of placing chicken onto her flour tortilla, paused. Looked at Kane. “You’re moving?”
“Eventually,” he said, fumbling to roll up his fajita with his left hand.
“Daddy doesn’t like to stay in one place too long. He says he gets bored, but I think he’s just running from his past. Literally.”
Kane frowned at his daughter. “Have you been talking to your mother’s therapist again?”
“It doesn’t take a psych degree to know you have deep-seated issues regarding your childhood. Although it might take a therapist to help you figure out those issues so you can stay in one place longer than two years.”
“You’ve never stayed in one place longer than two years?” Char couldn’t help asking him.
“Not since I was discharged from the Army.” He held her gaze. “When it’s time to move on, it’s time to move on.”
Estelle changed the subject to how crazy her mother’s therapist was, but how much Meryl loved the woman and refused to believe she was a complete quack. Char listened and contributed to the conversation as it flowed from one topic to the other, usually due to her or Estelle asking the other a question or bringing up a different subject.
By the end of their meal, Char was relaxed and full, and had had a very good time. Watching Kane with his daughter was enlightening. He obviously adored the girl, and the feeling was clearly mutual. But through it all, Char couldn’t help but think about what Kane had said.
When it’s time to move on, it’s time to move on.
For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why the idea of his moving on bothered her so.
Why she wanted to ask him to stay.
* * *
“THE RULE,” ESTELLE told Kane as they finished their brownies and coffee, “is whoever cooked doesn’t have to clean up.”
He leaned back, laid his good arm across his stomach. “You didn’t cook. Mary Susan did.”
“I would have cooked if you had more than one pot and a frying pan.”
“You can cook?” he asked. When he’d been sixteen—hell, when he’d been twenty—he hadn’t been able to do anything for himself. Everything had always been done for him.
Estelle hadn’t been as indulged as he’d been, but he’d had no idea she was competent in the kitchen. Maybe he didn’t know his daughter as well as he’d like to think.
One more reason to seriously consider her request to live with him.
“I’m not as good as Mama, and we both pretty much suck compared to Rosa—that’s our cook,” Estelle told Charlotte before turning back to him. “But I’m learning. And even though I didn’t cook tonight, I did all the prep work. I planned the meal, set the table, ordered the food and picked it up.” She pressed her finger against the brownie crumbs on her plate then put that finger in her mouth. “Besides, Andrew’s coming to get me in—” She checked her phone. Made a squeaking sound. “Any minute now.”
She leaped up, but at least she took her plate to the sink.
“Who’s Andrew?” Char wanted to know.
“Andrew Freeman,” Estelle told her. “He works at the diner.”
“What about your schoolwork?” Kane asked, standing to block her way before she could slip out of the kitchen. She was fast when she wanted to be.
She rolled her eyes. “I have two weeks to finish it. And I’m on vacation.”
“Your mother is on vacation. You were supposed to be in Houston in school, and I don’t want you waiting until the last minute to get your work done.”
He’d called the school and had them send the next two weeks’ assignments to her so she wouldn’t fall behind.
“I won’t. I promise. Andrew and I are just going to the movies. We’ll be back in two hours and then I’ll work on it. I’ve already finished three days of history lessons.”
He didn’t have a hard time saying no to her, but he liked to think he balanced those times out by letting her have her way, too. “Fine. But be home no later than ten o’clock.”
She grinned. Kissed his cheek. “I will.”
She scooted past him and out of the room.
“I’ve never heard of the Freemans,” Charlotte said as she closed the takeout boxes. “Is he from Shady Grove?”
“I don’t think so. I met him the other day when he came to get her to take her out for ice cream.” Ice cream. Had he ever done anything so innocent at that age? He didn’t think so.
“Did you do your best intimidating father routine? Growl at him? Give him one of those scowls you’ve perfected? Show him your gun collection?”
He realized he was scowling now so he smoothed his expression. Put the boxes of leftovers in the fridge. “I don’t own any guns.” Being a former Ranger, he was more than comfortable around firearms, but he didn’t like having too many possessions bogging him down. Made it too hard to pack up and leave.
“Is that what your dad did?” he asked, not stopping her when she ran water in the sink and squirted in dish soap. It was tough washing dishes with one hand. “Intimidate your dates?”
She laughed. “My dad’s about as mild-mannered as they come.”
He’d never met her parents, but he’d seen them once when they had come into O’Riley’s for dinner. He didn’t think his bar was the type of place they usually went to, but Sadie claimed they’d enjoyed their meal.
Irene Ellison was blonde and petite, an older and still beautiful version of Sadie. Her husband, a well-respected ophthalmologist, was average height with a slight paunch and dark red hair.
“Besides,” Charlotte continued, rinsing a plate and setting it in the dish drainer, “I didn’t have any dates in high school.”
“None?”
“’Fraid not.” Her voice was light, but she didn’t look at him. Embarrassed, maybe? “Like I said before, I was a late bloomer. All arms and legs. The braces and an unfortunate haircut probably didn’t help things.”
The boys in her school had been idiots. “I’m sure you’ve made up for lost time.”
She flashed a smile at him, her dimple evident, and it about knocked him on his ass. “I’ve tried my best.”
Now that he’d been around her more, he couldn’t imagine her spending many weekends by herself. She was too vibrant. Too bright and smart and open to be alone.
“I had a really nice time tonight,” she continued, rinsing another plate.
“Everyone has fun around Estelle.” His kid was as gracious and charming as her mother.
“I don’t doubt that, and I knew I’d enjoy her company. It’s yours I wasn’t so sure about.”
He liked the way she always spoke the truth, no sugarcoating for Charlotte. “I’m wounded.”
“You’re not. You didn’t even want me to come.”
True. But Estelle had been right to ask Charlotte over after everything she’d done for them. It didn’t seem like enough, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do. How much he could give. “I may not have been crazy about the idea.” The idea of having Charlotte back in his apartment, around his kid, when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About their kiss. “But I’m glad Estelle did this.”
He’d enjoyed himself, he realized with only a hint of trepidation. Had enjoyed spending time with his daughter, yes, but also with Charlotte.
“We’re running late,” Estelle said as she hurried into the kitchen, “so Andrew’s not going to come up.”
“But he’ll walk you to the door at ten,” Kane sa
id, accepting her kiss.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Estelle turned and hugged Charlotte, hard. “Thank you for coming. It was so much fun.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said. “If you don’t have plans Friday, why don’t we get some lunch? Maybe head into Pittsburgh?”
Estelle’s face lit up. “I’d love that.”
“Great. I’ll call you tomorrow to set it up.”
Estelle left with a wave and a smile.
“You don’t have to do that,” Kane said.
Charlotte frowned at the silverware she washed. “How else are they going to get clean?”
“No. You don’t have to take Estelle to lunch.”
“I want to. I like her. You and her mother have done a great job.”
Pride filled him. Yeah, his kid was great, but he knew he didn’t deserve any credit for it. “Estelle’s a good girl.” Spoiled and a bit flighty, but with a big heart and a sunny disposition that always astounded him. “Meryl’s the one who’s done a good job. I’ve only been a part-time parent.”
He hated it. He wasn’t the only person who saw their kids a few times a year, but it was still tough.
“I think you may have had a hand in there at some point,” Charlotte said, draining the water and wringing out the dishcloth. “I loved watching you two at dinner. You’re a really good dad.”
Her praise warmed him. “She makes it easy.” He pressed his lips together, but couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “She wants to stay. With me. She wants to live with me, permanently, until she goes away to college.”
Wiping off the table, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide. “Wow. Does her mother know?”
“I don’t think so.” He hadn’t wanted to say anything to Meryl in case this was just one of Estelle’s whims. He didn’t want to hurt Meryl.
“Do you want her to live with you? Or are you worried a daughter will ruin your carefree bachelor ways?”
He frowned. Was that what she really thought? Worse, why did it bug him?
Because, he admitted to himself, for the first time in longer than he could remember, he wanted someone to think better of him. He wanted Charlotte to think better of him.
He must have suffered some undiscovered brain damage in his motorcycle accident.
“I’m an ex-addict,” he said, his soft tone not hiding the ugly reality of what he’d been. “I already told you that since I left the service, I haven’t stayed in one place very long. I’ve broken laws and went through rehab four times before it finally stuck. Do you know how many women I’ve slept with? How many I’ve used?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure if you’re confessing or bragging.”
“Neither. Just putting the truth you deem so important out there.”
“Here’s how I see things. Everything you mentioned is in the past. Even if you committed a crime yesterday and slept with four different women last week, it’s over. It’s what you do from now on that matters.”
“A person’s past stays with them.”
She waved it away as if it were that simple to brush aside his sins. “A person’s past shapes who they are, sure. But you can always choose to change. To become a better version of yourself.”
Had she been raised under a rainbow by benevolent fairies and happy elves? He wanted to set her straight on the real world, to help her understand you couldn’t change the core of who you were, no matter how hard you tried.
He took a step toward her, then another, forcing her back until she was pressed against the counter—shades of the first time she’d come here. “You want to help me become a better version of myself?” He smirked. “You trying to save me, Red?”
She held the dishcloth in both hands in front of her chest, a pathetic shield against him getting too close. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Why?”
She opened her mouth then shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you must be expecting something, some reward for your time and effort. What is it? Free drinks for you and your friends on the weekends? A picture in the local paper of you with a shiny good-deed medal?”
“You haven’t had many people be nice to you, have you?”
He thought of all the people who’d treated him like royalty because of his last name. How eager they had been to please him, to keep him happy in the hopes of getting a hefty tip, entry into his inner circle or a good word in with his old man. “I’ve had people bowing and scraping to me since I was born. Which is how I know the only reason people do anything for someone else is if they get something out of it.”
He could already feel the ropes of expectations, of indebtedness, wrapping around him, growing tauter with every one of Charlotte’s small acts of kindness. But he wouldn’t fall for it. Wouldn’t step into a trap laid with seemingly innocent gestures and outwardly harmless generosity.
Holding her gaze, he waited for her to hiss at him, to put her thin nose in the air and take a verbal swipe. What she did was way, way worse.
“That,” she said softly, “is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
* * *
CHARLOTTE WANTED TO hug him.
She wanted to wrap her arms around Kane, pull him close and just hold him. To tell him everything would be all right, that no matter what happened with him and Estelle, things would work out in the end for both of them. That he deserved to have his daughter in his life, as much as he wanted.
She gripped the cloth tighter, the water dripping down her arm. She was losing her ever-loving mind. Hug Kane? It was a crazy thought. An insane urge. He wasn’t exactly the hugging type, especially when he towered over her, his face bruised, his gaze cool, his hair rumpled.
Sexily rumpled, of course. She wouldn’t expect anything less from him at this point.
Everything about him, from his expression to his words, proved her right. He wasn’t a man seeking warm embraces and sympathetic assurances. He was a loner with a bad attitude and a dangerous edge.
Yes, he was suffering—and she didn’t just mean his physical injuries. He was suffering on the inside. If ever there was a man conflicted, a man fighting intense personal demons, he stood before her now.
She wanted to help him.
But that didn’t mean she was dumb enough to believe she could actually save him.
He inched closer. She knew it was a tactic, meant to put her on edge. She prayed he couldn’t tell how well it worked. “You really think I’m a good role model for a teenager?” he asked.
“I think you love her. What more could a child want from a parent?”
He intense gaze pinned her to the spot. Her breath caught, almost choking her. Potent. The man was definitely potent.
“What if love isn’t enough?” he asked quietly. “What if I do something to screw it up? Screw her up?”
Char tossed the cloth onto the counter, then, despite her intentions to keep her distance, laid her damp hand on his. “Everyone makes mistakes. There are no perfect parents, believe me, I’ve seen my fair share at work. More importantly, I’ve seen you with Estelle. You’d never do anything to hurt her.”
He exhaled, the breath seeming to shudder out of him. “That’s just it.” His voice was ragged, his shoulders slumped. “I did. I hurt her... I almost killed her.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
KANE’S WORDS ECHOED in Char’s ears. Her blood went cold. Denial, swift and sharp, cut through the haze in her brain. No. He was exaggerating. Or there had been an accident, one of those freak things that happened when a parent, even the most vigilant of parents, turned his attention away for a moment.
Kane would never purposely put his own child in danger.
You don’t know anything about me.
Char inhaled, slid her hand
away from his. He’d been right the other evening when he’d said that to her. She didn’t know him.
She’d managed to convince herself he was some sort of tormented soul. An honorable man doing his best to overcome a dark, troubled past.
What if he wasn’t? She’d deluded herself before. Had believed in a fantasy, one she’d scripted from once upon a time all the way to happily ever after.
“What’s the matter, Red?” Kane asked, his quiet voice rubbing against her nerve endings. “No words of compassion and understanding? No assurances that I can overcome my mistakes if only I want it badly enough? Or maybe you’ve realized some mistakes can never be forgotten. They sure as hell can’t be forgiven.”
His tone was as cocky as ever, his smirk firmly in place, but his eyes were bleak.
“You’re right,” she said, surprising them both with her admission. “Some things never can be forgotten. But everyone deserves forgiveness.”
He deserved forgiveness. Even from himself.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to confess, wasn’t sure she was strong enough, tolerant enough to listen without judgment. But she couldn’t turn her back on him. He needed her more than he had the other night.
And she needed him. Or, rather, she needed to face the truth about him. No matter what that truth turned out to be. “What happened?” she asked.
For a few long minutes, the only sound was the refrigerator running and their mingled breathing. When Kane spoke, his voice was soft and filled with pain. “That car accident I told you about?”
“The one that made you so upset when you remembered it at the E.R.?”
He nodded. “I was twenty. I’d just gotten out of a stint in rehab a few days earlier and had a scheduled visitation with Estelle.”
“How old was she?”
“Two. But I’d only known about her for just over a year.”
“How is that possible?”
“When Meryl and I slept together, she was home on break—and engaged to some guy she’d met at college. After that night, we both went our separate ways. She got married and for a year, thought Estelle was her husband’s child. When he found out differently, they divorced and she moved back to Houston.” He paced the small confines of the kitchen, his movements slow and stiff. “After my second go-round with rehab, I stayed clean for a few months, started taking classes at a local community college. That’s when she told me. She hadn’t wanted our daughter to have anything to do with me if I was still using.”
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