by Megan Green
“Sorry about that,” I say, heat rushing to my face as embarrassment overtakes me. “I’m not sure what came over me.”
Aarabelle waves away my apology. “You’ve had a hard day. One I’m sure that wasn’t made any easier by my brother acting like an asshole.”
I give her a weak smile. “He was just trying to protect his family.”
Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Yes, because you’re so threatening.”
I look down at my tiny frame. At five foot four and a hundred and fifteen pounds, I’m probably the least intimidating person on the planet. Which only made the monster Felicity always viewed me as that much more hurtful.
“Hey, you don’t know. I could be a black belt under all this petiteness,” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood.
Aarabelle gives me another assessing look, tapping a finger against her lips. “You could. But I’m going to go out on a limb and say those tiny chicken legs haven’t done a roundhouse kick in their life.”
My eyes drop to my legs. “They aren’t chicken legs!” I say, pretending to be outraged. Okay, maybe they are. But being constantly on the job didn’t exactly leave much time for leg day.
Aarabelle smiles. “You keep telling yourself that, Chicken Little.”
We both laugh at that, and it strikes me that I like this woman. In the few minutes she’s been in my room, she’s somehow managed to push past all my barricades and see right into my soul. How else would she have known that the best way to get my mind off my troubles is through self-deprecating humor?
Aarabelle looks around my room, at the half-packed bag on my bed and the spilled case on the floor. “Going somewhere?”
I nod. “Back to Chicago. I need to get back to work.”
Her brow furrows. “You’re leaving already?”
Had she really expected me to stick around after the funeral? I mean, she’s the one who called me to tell me about Felicity’s passing. She clearly knows my family and I have… issues.
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug.
“But, you haven’t met Gracie and Ellie.”
I don’t bother asking who she’s talking about. I may not have known them until now, but those names are one hundred percent Felicity.
Her daughters—Gracie and Ellie.
Warmth spreads through me. At least I’ll be able to hold on to that. They may not ever know me, but at least I know their names. Maybe, when they’re older, I can look them up.
“He doesn’t want me near them, Aarabelle,” I say. “You were there. You heard what he said.”
“And you heard what I just said. Shane isn’t thinking clearly right now. Just give me some time. I’ll get him to come around.”
“I don’t know…”
Aarabelle steps up to me then, her hands closing around my arms as she turns me to face her straight on.
“Do you want to know them, Kate?”
I nod, because I can’t do anything else. “More than anything.”
She gives me a pleased smile. “Good. Because they deserve to know you. They deserve to know things about their mother that only you can tell them. They deserve to have every single loving member of their family surrounding them during this difficult time. If you can help ease even a fraction of the pain they’re feeling right now…well, Shane is just going to have to get the fuck over it.”
I laugh, wiping my nose as more tears prick the corners of my eyes. Guess they weren’t as dried out as I thought.
“You think you can get him to give me a chance?”
“Yep,” she says absolutely. “Now, let’s go.”
She grabs my wrist and starts dragging me toward the door.
“What? Now?”
She nods. “Yep, no time like the present. If you think time is going to soften my idiot brother’s heart, you’re wrong. If we wait too long, he’s just going to convince himself he’s doing the right thing. He’s as thick-headed as they come. I love him, don’t get me wrong. But he can be a damn fool.”
“But,” I start, looking at the mirror again. “I look awful.”
Aara shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. “Good. Maybe it’ll help him see you’re hurting just as much as he is.”
I yank my arm out of her hold. “I’m not going anywhere looking like this. Deranged homeless lady is not the way I want the father of my nieces to perceive me as I’m trying to convince him to let me into his children’s life.”
Aarabelle blows out a sigh. “Fine, you may be right. You have five minutes.”
I grab the closest things I can—a Double Dub t-shirt and a pair of jeans—and sprint toward the bathroom to change. It’s not exactly my sleekest look, but it’s a million times better than the crumpled dress from the funeral.
I wash my face, wishing I had time to put on some makeup. To try and make myself out to be the levelheaded professional I usually am. But this will just have to do.
Smoothing my hair back, I tie it up in a bun and give myself one final look.
It’s not great, but it’s all I’ve got to work with.
I open the bathroom door, finding Aarabelle picking at a cuticle.
“You ready?” she asks when I appear.
Fear at what I’m about to do tumbles through me.
“Not even close.”
Chapter Five
Shane
The sound of Ellie’s hysterical sobs fill my ears as I pound on the bathroom door.
“Gracie Belle Dempsey! You open this door right now!”
Ellie shrieks harder from the floor near my feet, her back against the door her sister has just barricaded herself behind.
If I were a praying man, now would be the time I’d shoot one on up to the big guy, asking him to give me strength. Because holy fuck, how am I supposed to deal with this?
Too bad there isn’t a God. And if there is… well, then he’s the whole reason I’m in this mess in the first place.
How I’m supposed to raise two girls to be well-adjusted individuals and still somehow come out relatively sane myself is beyond me. It was hard enough when I had Felicity here to help. Gracie is six going on sixteen with that little attitude of hers. And my sweet Ellie can turn from my little princess to the devil disguised as a three-year-old at the drop of a hat.
Case in point… it’s been two hours since the house emptied out after the funeral reception. Two hours since we were surrounded by friends, family, and whoever the fuck else decided my wife’s death was a good way to score a free meal. And in that time, Gracie has had two meltdowns, told me she hates me four times, and managed to make her little sister cry when she told her that her mommy was never coming home because Ellie was a “giant baby.”
Hence the reason I’m now trying to break down a door in my own house while my youngest sobs against my feet.
“Gracie Belle!” I shout, knowing that by using her full first name, she’ll understand I mean business. Lissy and I had originally named her Gracie Belle as a sort of homage to my sister. Aarabelle is one of the strongest women I know, and I wanted my daughter to carry a part of that strength with her everywhere she went.
Aara had been thrilled, of course. Even more so when we’d asked her to be Gracie’s godmother. Unfortunately, the name hadn’t stuck. Gracie Belle ended up being much more of a mouthful than we anticipated, and after only a few short weeks, we’d made the decision just to call her Gracie.
“Go away!” she shrieks from the other side of the door, her voice sounding more like nails against a chalkboard than my usually gentle daughter.
“Open this door right now or you’re grounded,” I gruff. I’m pretty sure she’s never been grounded a day in her life, but there’s a first time for everything.
“I hate you!” she screams in response.
“That’s it!” I yell, banging my hand hard against the door. “I’m going to get my hammer and the screwdriver. If I have to take this door off its hinges… so help me, Gracie Belle.”
She stays silent on the other en
d, and I know she’s waiting to call my bluff. She doesn’t think I’m actually going to do it.
Well, I’ll show her exactly how serious I am.
I storm down the hallway, making sure she can hear my steps all the way down the stairs and out to the garage. I fling open my toolbox once I reach it, my hands searching through the messy disarray to find the ones I need.
My hammer is missing, and I curse under my breath when I realize Felicity must’ve used it again.
She’s always doing that. Taking my tools and then not putting them back when she’s done.
“Lissy!” I shout as I stomp back into the house. “Lissy, where did you put my hammer?”
I pull open the junk drawer in the kitchen, rifling through the contents in search of my missing tool. “Lissy!” I shout again.
And that’s when I remember.
She isn’t going to answer.
She’s never going to answer again.
The air in my lungs comes out in a rush, my head spinning a little as I turn and lean my back against the kitchen counter. Slowly, I sink down to the floor, my ass thudding against it as my feet slip out from under me.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I whisper to nobody, my hands raking through my hair as I feel the heat rushing my face.
My life is fucking falling apart.
No wife.
No companion.
No fucking clue how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.
“Fuck you, Felicity,” I mutter, and the relief that floods through my chest at those three little words is enough to knock me on my ass—if I weren’t already there, that is.
It’s the first time since I learned of her death that I’ve allowed myself to utter them aloud. The first time I’ve given voice to all the anger inside of me, to the betrayal and the heartache.
If she hadn’t been with him. If she hadn’t broken her vows to me…
Well, we sure as hell wouldn’t be in this situation now, would we?
A dark laugh bubbles up past my lips when I realize how insane I sound.
Only hours ago, I’d been standing at a podium, looking down at Felicity’s mother and thinking how this was all my fault. How I was just as much to blame for Felicity’s affair as she was… and now here I am, cursing the dead and laughing about it.
I blow out a shaky breath. Jesus fuck. They’re going to put me in a padded cell.
The sound of Ellie’s piercing scream carries down the stairs, pulling me from my mini-breakdown. I give myself another moment to collect my wits before pushing myself up to my feet and heading toward the stairs.
My anger toward Gracie softens with every step I take. It’s not her fault that her entire world has been turned upside down. She’s dealing with something people five times her age can’t even begin to comprehend—my momentary forgetfulness in the kitchen a prime example. Life, as she knows it has been forever changed, so can I really blame her for not understanding?
No, I’m not going to take the door off the hinges. I’ll give her a little longer to cool down, get Ellie settled into bed, and then I’ll talk to Gracie. I’ll get her to open that door of her own accord if it’s the last thing I do. Because I owe her that much. I owe it to her to hear her out, to let her work through what’s upsetting her and then be there for her when she needs me.
Ellie is still sobbing on the floor, albeit much quieter now, when I reach her. I lift her into my arms, and she goes willingly, her little body wrapping around mine as I carry her to her room.
“I need you to go to sleep, okay, Monkey? Can you do that for Daddy?” I ask as I lay her down in her bed.
She nods tiredly against her pillow, her eyes already beginning to drift shut, no doubt exhausted from the day of crying.
I bend over and kiss her forehead. “That’s my girl. Love you, Ells.”
“Love you, too, Daddy,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.
I tiptoe out of her room, pulling the door shut behind me with a soft click. Thank God I’d managed to wrangle them into their pjs before this whole thing had started. Her little teeth will just have to survive one night without brushing because there’s no way in hell I’m waking her up once I get that bathroom door open.
I press my forehead against the door when I reach it, rapping lightly against the wood with the backs of my knuckles. “Gracie,” I say, keeping my tone gentle and loving. “Gracie, open the door, sweetheart.”
I hear her sniffle from the other side, and I know the worst part of her tantrum is over. If I play my cards right, I can have her out of there and into her bed in just a few minutes.
“Come on, Gracie Lou Who,” I say, using the pet name Felicity had given her. As a literature nerd, Lissy had always been a big Dr. Seuss fan.
I hear her rustling on the other side of the door, and my breath catches. I don’t even want to so much as breathe wrong at the risk of setting her off again.
But then a knock at the door below us ruins any progress we might have made.
“Go away!” she shouts again, and I bang my forehead against the door.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath before turning and descending the stairs.
Whoever this is better have a damn good reason for showing up here right at bedtime.
I pull open the door, not bothering to even look at who it might be through the peephole.
Let some asshole try to rob me right now. I dare him.
But it’s not a burglar.
No. It’s my overstepping older sister.
I prop an arm against the open door and narrow my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too, little brother. Can I come in?”
“No,” I say. “In case I didn’t make it clear before, I’m mad at you.”
Aara rolls her eyes and pushes past me. “Boo-hoo. I’m pretty sure you’ll get over it. Besides, wasn’t that Gracie I heard shouting at you after I knocked on the door? You sure you don’t want a little help?”
Any other day and I’d welcome her with open arms, falling at her feet in gratitude at her timely arrival. But after the shit she pulled today…
“Go away, Aara.”
She spins around to face me. “Really? Guess it’s true what they say. Like father, like daughter.”
“I don’t need your help,” I insist, following after her as she turns and ascends the stairs. “I’m handling it.”
She pauses mid-step, glancing back at me over her shoulder. “That’s just it, Shane. You don’t have to ‘handle’ it,” she says, throwing up air quotes around my word. “You have people who want to help you. To be here for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
I shake my head. “I can’t ask you or—”
“You don’t have to!” she says, her exasperation evident in her tone as she turns, her arms flying out to her sides. “You don’t have to ask me or Mom or Athair to help you. Because we’re going to be here, whether you like it or not. Jesus, Shane. Don’t you get it? That’s what family does. What family is.”
Emotion forms in the back of my throat, and I swallow hard to keep it down.
Sensing the reason I’m not responding, she smiles down at me from the step above. With a flick of her wrist, she smooths my hair away from my eyes, a gesture she’s done to comfort me ever since we were kids.
“Me? Mom and Athair? We’re not going to leave you. You’re always going to have us to count on. To help you with anything you need. Because we love you.”
She pulls me into her arms then, and I let her. I let go of all the anger I’d felt when I realized what she’d done, at the assumed disrespect I thought she’d shown my late wife. I should’ve known better. Aara would never do anything to intentionally hurt someone she loves. She must’ve thought she was doing the right thing, despite the warnings I’d given her to the contrary.
“Love you, too, sis,” I say as I wrap my arms around her. “And I’m sorry for getting so angry.”
She shrugs as she pulls back. “I�
�m used to it. You’ve always been more temperamental than a prom queen on the rag when you’re upset. Besides, I know a way you can make it up to me.”
A laugh sputters past my lips. “And you’ve always had such a way with words.”
She lifts her hands in a what can you do gesture. “It’s a gift.”
I chuckle. “If you say so. Now, what exactly do you think I can do to make it up to you?”
A brief flash of uncertainty crosses her eyes, her lower lip pulling between her teeth as she contemplates her next words. That’s all the sign I need to know that I’m not going to like whatever it is she’s going to say next.
She must read the concern on my face, because she holds up her hands in surrender. “Now, hear me out before you say no.”
“What is it, Aara?”
“Kate is outside.”
My brow furrows. “Kate? Kate who?”
But as soon as the words leave my mouth, the name registers.
“You have got to be kidding me, Aarabelle.”
“Shane, please. Just listen to her. You have no idea what she’s going through.”
I laugh, the sound not carrying a trace of humor. “I have no idea what she’s going through? Oh, that is rich, considering I’m the one who just lost my fucking wife.”
“And she lost her sister!” Aara shouts.
“A sister she didn’t even like!” I fume.
“You don’t know that! You’ve never even spoken to her.”
I shake my head, turning and storming back down the stairs. I get to the door and fling it open, swinging back around and glaring up at Aarabelle.
“I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Shane, you can’t just—”
“Leave, Aarabelle.”
Aara’s jaw sets as she scowls at me, her eyes boring into mine. I give it right back, neither of us willing to relinquish this stare off we’ve fallen into, neither of us wanting to admit defeat.
“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice comes from the top of the stairs, and I blink.
Shifting my eyes from my sister to my daughter, I find her small form at the edge of the staircase, her eyes red and puffy, her lower lip trembling as she struggles to hold in more tears.
