Games of the Heart

by Kristen Ashley

  As I spoke, with every word his arms got tighter and tighter and his face, already close, became a breath away.

  “Angel, you’re already gone.”

  I blinked and asked, “Sorry?”

  “I read your diaries. I caught your pass in that hotel room. I listened to your offer to stay. I saw you wave good-bye at the airport and got your call before I’d pulled out of the parking lot. You fell with a kiss. I know, honey, because I was right there with you.”

  Oh my God, did he just say that?

  Oh my God, did he just say that?

  I blinked again but in the nanosecond it took me to do that my eyes had filled with tears.

  “What?” I breathed.

  “You heard me.”

  He just said that.

  “Mike –”

  His tight arms gave me a squeeze and he whispered, “That seed you’re talkin’ about is planted, Angel. We got some shit we gotta get through but it isn’t about this,” his arms gave me another squeeze, “it isn’t about us. As far as that seed’s concerned all you and me gotta do is tend it and watch it grow.”

  I stared into his eyes.

  Then I exclaimed loudly, “Damn it, Mike! Why are you always making me cry?”

  Then I avoided his face, twisting my neck and curving my back to do a face plant in his bare chest.

  A chest, incidentally, that was shaking with laughter.

  “I’m not finding avowals of love in the kitchen of the hot guy I fell for when I was twelve amusing, Mike Haines,” I warned his chest in a thick voice and that chest started shaking harder as his humor became vocal.

  I reared back and snapped, “Stop laughing when I’m crying!”

  He could be bossy and not easy to boss. I knew this when he burst out laughing as his hand in my hair shoved my face in his throat.

  I held on and cried while he laughed.

  Suddenly, Layla sprang up and barked.

  I blinked tears away as Mike’s laughter abruptly stopped and he twisted his torso toward the kitchen door.

  Layla was out of the kitchen, in the hall and, by the sound of it, she was barking at the front door.

  “Fuck,” Mike muttered then moved away but did it with his head turned to me, arm raised, his finger pointing at the sandwiches. “Eat. Chips in the cupboard. Pop and beer in the fridge. I’ll be back.”

  I nodded but he’d already turned away and rounded the cupboards that butted the door.

  Then I dashed my hands on my wet cheeks as I popped down to go to the fridge and get a drink.

  Then I heard a muttered, clearly irate, “Fuck me,” and I froze.

  The door must have opened because Layla quit barking but I could hear her dog tags jingling which meant she was shaking with excitement at having a visitor.

  “Oh God, is this a bad time?” a woman asked and for some bizarre reason I scuttled to the side like I was trying to hide when she already couldn’t see me.

  “I think we can take it as read any visit from you would be at a bad time, Audrey. What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Mike asked in return and I felt my eyes get wide.

  Audrey.

  I forgot. When counting down all the shit going down while love bloomed between me and my childhood crush, Audrey was part of that list.

  “I thought we could talk,” she replied.

  “You think maybe to phone me to schedule this talk rather than showin’ up on a Sunday afternoon out-of-the-blue?” Mike returned and I felt the cold air begin seeping in from the front door so I knew he hadn’t invited her inside.

  “Well,” she hesitated, “I did, actually, but I thought you’d blow me off.”

  “You thought right,” Mike replied instantly, his deep voice not ugly but it was hard.

  “Mike, really, it’s important,” she said soft, cajoling and she had a pretty voice.

  Damn.

  “It’s important, we’ll meet. Now’s not good. I haven’t had lunch, it’s ready and Dusty’s in the kitchen waitin’ for me to eat it with her. Tomorrow’s not good either. You pick any other day next week, I’ll meet you after work somewhere for coffee. You’ve got half an hour then I gotta get home because I got kids and my woman to feed.”

  “Dusty?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah,” Mike answered immediately then equally immediately he prompted, “Which night?”

  “She’s here now?”

  “Audrey, which night?”

  “Is she living here?”

  “No and that’s only your business as my children’s mother. Now, tell me, which night?”

  “This won’t take long and I won’t –”

  “Right, I’m standin’ here in nothin’ but jeans. Not bein’ a dick but, seriously, clue in and tell me which fuckin’ night?”

  Oh God. I was thinking Mike’s declarations of not being a dick was a lot like when I said I wasn’t being a bitch because his meaning was clear.

  There was silence and this lasted a while.

  Finally Mike prompted with clear impatience, “Audrey –”

  “Can she hear us?”

  “Which night?”

  “Why isn’t she coming out?”

  Oh God.

  “Which night?”

  “Is she in your bed?”

  Oh God!

  “Jesus, fuck, seriously? We doin’ this?”

  “You’re on that side, Mike, moving on. You have somebody. I’m on this one. Alone. Give me a break.”

  It was then I knew just how done Mike was with Audrey.

  And I knew it when he replied, “Yeah, she can hear us. This is because she’s in the kitchen. And she’s not comin’ out probably because she’s wearin’ my tee and pretty much nothin’ else and she’s nice enough to want to save you from seein’ that. So, you asked, you got the visual anyway and that’s on you. Now, which fuckin’ night?”

  “Tuesday,” she whispered.

  “Terrific,” Mike agreed at once. “Can you make it to Mimi’s by six?”

  “Yes, Mike.”

  “Right. I’ll see you at Mimi’s at six.”

  “Okay.”

  There were no farewells exchanged only a confused whimper from Layla who undoubtedly during this intense exchange didn’t get any attention and she wasn’t quite certain what to do with that. I heard the door close then I saw Mike round the cupboard, his dog at his heels.

  So, call me a freak and I don’t care, he was pissed, not hiding it, wearing nothing but jeans and it was hot.

  I didn’t get a chance to inform him of this fact to, perchance, help him deal with that anger.

  And I didn’t get that chance because he lifted a hand, pointed a finger at me and commanded in a severe, rumbling voice, “Don’t take on that shit.”

  I was staring at his finger thinking that if any other man pointed a finger in my face, I would likely grab it and twist it while I kicked him in the shin or, alternately, tell him to go fuck himself and stomp away when I replied, “Uh…what?”

  He stopped a foot away from me, dropped his hand and mostly repeated himself, “You don’t take on that shit.”

  “Mike, honey,” I said in a gentle, soothing voice, “I’m sensing you’re pissed but I’m not following.”

  “You got enough on your plate. Whatever Audrey’s up to, that is not your shit. It’s my shit and you don’t take that on. You worry about that farm, the family in it and your pottery. I’ll worry about Audrey.”

  “Uh…didn’t we just pretty much share we care deeply for each other not five minutes ago?” I asked cautiously.

  “No, we didn’t pretty much do anything and we sure as fuck didn’t pretty much share we care deeply for each other. We told each other we’re in love,” he corrected me and my belly compressed as my heart skipped a beat.

  “No,” I contradicted stupidly but correctly, my heart, now racing, messing with my ability to think, “I think it was you telling me we’re in love.”

  His brows shot together and that was hot too.


  “Do you disagree?” he fired back.

  “Uh…no,” I replied.

  His brows then shot up and damn, that was hot too.

  “Your point?”

  Again stupidly but still correctly I shared, “That is, technically, caring deeply for each other.”

  He crossed his arms on his chest (yes, also hot) and asked, “You get I’m pissed?”

  I nodded.

  “So you wanna move this along before this asinine conversation about something not asinine in the slightest makes me more pissed?”

  I thought that was a good idea so I decided to do that.

  “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t have my shit, you take on my shit then also deal with your shit without me having your back too.”

  “Dusty –”

  I took the step to him, lifted my hand and curled my fingers on his forearm, saying, “Babe, I’m not weak. I’m not addicted to spending money. I’m not anything but Dusty. We have a lot happening and it’s a pain in the ass but I’m not crumbling under the weight. You’ve had a long time of looking after a lot of people, busting your ass to do it. You’ll get used to it but flat out, with me, that’s not your life anymore.”

  “Right, I get that, Dusty but what you need to get is that I don’t mind bustin’ my ass for the ones I love. It’s my job and not the kind you do because you have to do it but because you love doin’ it. I mind doin’ it when I get shit on in return but if I don’t get that, it’s entirely different. So I know you’re not weak and you’ll get used to it bein’ with me but you no longer always have to be strong.”

  I stared at him, stunned.

  He wasn’t done. I knew this when he kept talking, or more like rumbling out each word.

  “And you’ll get used to bein’ my woman and I’ll explain what that means. I’ll take shit but my woman won’t,” he leaned in and finished, “ever. Not people feedin’ it to her directly and not indirectly through me.”

  I didn’t say a word.

  But my mind was whirling.

  Never.

  Never in my life, outside my father and my brother, had a man stood up to protect me. Not like that.

  Never.

  Finally I found my voice and I found it to ask, “Are we kinda fighting about how we’re in love and you’re gonna take care of me?”

  “Warning, Dusty, I’m pissed Audrey has, in Audrey’s way, thrown down in a preliminary to whatever game she’s settin’ me up to force me to play when we do not need her shit. I’m not in the mood for you to be funny.”

  I pressed my lips together.

  Then, stupidly but correctly, I blurted, “Just to clear something up from earlier. I’m thinking it’s probably not gonna happen, me getting a wild hair and going riverboat gambling with Rhonda. I can barely get her out of her bedroom. I doubt I could get her down to the Ohio River.”

  Mike glared at me.

  “Though, she’s practically catatonic,” I went on unwisely in the face of his fierce scowl, “I could prop her on one of those wheelie things and get her in front of a video poker machine but I don’t know why I’d expend that effort. If I wanna go gambling, I’ll hit the internet, buy cheap tickets and you and I’ll have a weekend in Vegas.”

  Mike said not a word.

  I kept going.

  “Though, I’ve never been on a riverboat and I like gambling. Maybe we should plan to do that.”

  Mike spoke.

  “I’m thinkin’ maybe now’s the time to shut up.”

  I pressed my lips together.

  This lasted a second.

  Then out came, “An FYI, you’re hot when you’re pissed. Like, off the charts hot. This, I think, does not bode well for me should someday I be pissed in return.”

  Mike continued to glower at me.

  I took my hand from his arm and wrapped my arms around his middle, pressing myself to him even as he kept his arms crossed on his chest.

  Tipping my head way back, I whispered, “Talk to me.”

  “Talkin’ to you would be you takin’ on my shit.”

  I gave him a squeeze and repeated my whispered, “Talk to me.”

  He held my eyes.

  This lasted a while.

  Luckily, I was patient.

  Finally, he talked to me.

  “She dicks with me, she dicks with my kids. I can try to hide it but they soak that shit up like they’re sponges. We had a détente. It was fucked but it was working. No settled, stopped focusin’ on his Mom and me and started to be what he is. A kid in high school, doin’ his homework, playin’ ball, practicin’ with his band. His smiles came quick. The teases he’d shoot at his sister easy. Whatever was up with Reesee wasn’t about me or her Mom. It was about Reesee. I don’t want them back there. Watchful, guarded, preparing, powerless to look out for me but wanting to do it all the same. I do not want, in ten years, twenty, them to look back at a time which should be golden and think of their Mom and my shit. I want them to be kids.”

  God, he was such a good Dad.

  But it was time to clue him in.

  So I did.

  “What was up with Rees was about her Mom, honey.”

  He blinked and his frame jerked slightly.

  “Pardon?”

  “It still is,” I continued.

  He uncrossed his arms and his hands settled at my waist but his eyes never left me.

  “Explain,” he ordered.

  “Yesterday was horses, makeup and mall but she clued me in, babe, about where she is and why she’s there. No’s talents are very visible, obvious, you see them, you hear them. Basketball, music. Rees’s have yet to be discovered. She feels overshadowed by him but No’s not doing this intentionally. My guess is, she doesn’t have the attention of her mother and she’s internalizing that. She’s thinking she’s done something to take it away or is someone who doesn’t deserve it. She’s shy, she has absolutely no idea of her beauty and that’s crazy. And I say that from what I’ve seen her getting in this house from you and her brother. She’s loved. She’s safe. She’s free to be who she is here. So something is holding her back, holding her down. And the one negative force in her life is her Mom. And I know this because her Mom didn’t help her learn how to put on makeup.”

  “Makeup?” Mike asked and I nodded.

  Then, carefully, I asked back, “Did you talk to her about her period?”

  Mike’s eyes flashed and his mouth got tight but he didn’t answer so I decided to take that as a no.

  Still carefully, I continued, “Did her Mom?”

  “No clue,” he forced out.

  “That’s not good,” I whispered, “When did she start?”

  Mike held my eyes a moment then he shared, “About four months ago.”

  “And you know this because…?”

  “No found some shit in the bathroom and told me.”

  That meant he had no clue about that either. That “shit” could have been there months prior and Rees hid it.

  “Who bought it for her?” I pressed.

  “No clue,” Mike repeated.

  “Who supplies her now?” I kept going and Mike’s eyes flashed again.

  He didn’t know.

  Shit!

  I pressed closer and told him gently, “My Mom taught me how to put on makeup, honey. I know all Moms don’t because my friend Gretchen’s sister did it with her and I had another friend who learned on her own and the results weren’t great. She had no sister and her Mom worked full-time. Finally, Gretchen and I took her in hand. But my Mom taught me. And we talked about that time in a girl’s life, several times. She was open with me, made it safe to talk to her about so when I needed something or had questions or felt shit because I had cramps, I could talk to her. The vast majority of her time, Rees is living with two men and if her Mom is normally like she was at Rees’s party then that is not a safe place for her to go. This means she may or may not be getting info from her friends who may or may not have started their periods. At that age, they are no
t good sources of information.” I pushed even closer and finished, “And this is the beginning. She’s got a boy interested in her now and she really does not need for her only sources of information about important life stuff being fourteen and fifteen year old girls who have no clue.”

  “Fuck,” Mike whispered and there was a whole lot of feeling in that one word.

  Gently, I kept going, “So, in a girl’s life, now is the time she really needs her Mom so now would be the time when she would most feel it if she doesn’t really have one. And it’s just a guess but that guess would be now, she’s feeling that and that’s why she’s been under a cloud.”

  “And that’s why it’s lifted because you’re here,” Mike surmised immediately.

  “I hope so,” I replied. “I made it clear I was there to talk to and have all the time in the world for her. She opened up to me and I could tell it wasn’t easy but I could also tell she was glad she did it. Yesterday, she seemed even less uptight. I’m a woman, I got that part covered. I’ll find a time, feel her out and if she needs it, sort her out. Where it gets hairy is that I need her to trust me and I also need to clue you in. If she thinks I’m going to run to you to tell you everything she says, she’s gonna clam up. But you also need to know where she is. So you’re going to need to give me guidance about where you want me to guide her, understand that some shit will be just between me and Rees, trust me to do right by her but share with you what you need to know and let me do my best with that balancing act.”

  “I trust you.”

  This response was again immediate. It was gratifying but I wasn’t certain it was the right one.

  I gave him a squeeze and said softly, “Mike, this is your daughter and I haven’t known –”

  His hands slid around to lock me in his arms and he gave me a squeeze, cutting me off. “Dusty, she is my daughter and I trust you. My guess is you’ve been gettin’ your period a while now so clearly you’re more an authority on that than me. I love my girl, we’re close but she’s never gonna come to me with that shit and you might think this is fucked, but I’m not only glad about that, I’m relieved. The rest of it, honey, the way you turned out, I am not stressed about. You guide her to bein’ her version of a woman like you, smart, funny, self-reliant, strong, sweet, warm, loving, I’m totally down with that.”