by Candis Terry
“I like the sparkles on your pink barrettes,” Abby said to him with a complete straight face.
“You should see me decked out in the purple Dora ones. They have bows.”
Abby’s knockout smile finally appeared.
“Yeah,” he said. “Izzy has totally put me in touch with my feminine side. But if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”
That got him a laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“She has quite the creative flair.”
“Uh-huh.” He noticed that Abby had changed her clothes from her earlier flashy pants and top to what he figured the rich and famous deemed casual. And he had to admit, jeans and a fitted tee had never looked so good.
Izzy plopped down between the two of them and stuck a Popstar Barbie in his hand.
“Shoes, Daddy.” In her plump little hand Izzy, held out a hot pink pair of miniature stilettos. Obviously, the makeup kit had been long forgotten in the quest for plastic pumps.
“You keep these out of your mouth. Okay, baby?”
Though Izzy nodded, he watched her like a drill sergeant whenever she played with such small items. Part of being a firefighter meant he was also an EMT, and he’d been on enough 9-1-1 choking-child calls to know to never take things for granted.
While he pried the small pieces onto the unrealistically arched doll feet, he watched Abby’s expression. Her eyes darted from Izzy to him and back to Izzy again. Questions. Curiosity. And something else he couldn’t read darkened the tropical blue. She looked back up at him again.
“How old is she?”
“She turned three a couple months ago.”
A slight nod tipped her chin as she calculated time and circumstance. Then she glanced around his oh-so-male-dominated apartment. “Where’s her mother?” she asked in a voice so soft he barely heard.
“Does it matter?” He wasn’t about to discuss his child, his ex-wife, his failed marriage, or anything else. Especially not in front of Izzy.
He handed Izzy the doll, then got up and lifted her into his arms. Since it was a ways till dinnertime, he figured he’d give her something to tide her over. And since he needed to get away from Abby and her probing curiosity, he headed toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry, baby girl?”
“Yeth,” she answered with a nod and a bounce of her soft shiny curls. “Coney dawg pweath.”
Izzy favored corn dogs, mac and cheese, and ice cream. Anything else was up for debate. “You want ketchup?”
Izzy nodded.
From the living-room floor, Abby watched him while he wished she’d just get up and leave. But she didn’t. She just sat there. Watching him.
He didn’t know what she wanted. He wished he didn’t care. But the hell if he didn’t.
He set Izzy down on the floor. “Can you go wash your hands please?”
“Yeth.” He watched her toddle off to the bathroom, where she had a pink plastic stepstool already in place.
Izzy liked her independence. Of course that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get sidetracked or try to fill the sink with water and pretend it was an ocean for the three floating ducks in the bathtub toy container. And it didn’t mean he’d give her any more than about a minute before he’d need to run Izzy patrol.
As she disappeared into the hallway, he smiled. He didn’t know what he’d done with all his time before she’d been born, but he must have been bored out of his mind. She kept him busy. On his toes. And he loved every second.
“She’s adorable.”
Jackson’s gaze swung back into the living room, where Abby was picking up the forgotten toys and dropping them into the princess toy box. “Thanks.”
She gently set a Lalaloopsy doll inside and closed the lid. “I didn’t know you had a little girl.”
“Guess news from Sweet doesn’t travel as fast and far as from Houston.” He pulled the box of corn dogs from the freezer and removed two.
“You’re still mad,” she said. She leaned her tan arms on the granite counter and watched him stick the corn dogs in the microwave above the stove.
He barked a laugh. “I blew past mad when I realized you’d cut me out of your life like I was some kind of poison.” He shoved the cardboard box back inside the freezer. “At the time, I was tromping through the mountains in Afghanistan trying to stay alive and wondering why you’d do such a thing.”
The timer on the microwave dinged, and he took out the corn dogs to let them cool. “But that was a long time ago, and I’m over it.” He tossed the pot holder down on the counter. “I need to check on Izzy.”
As he walked away, he felt her eyes burn into his back.
Mad?
No.
Heartbroken?
Absofuckinglutely.
Inside the bathroom he found Izzy on her little pink stool washing her hands with about half a bottle of bubbles foaming in the sink.
“I wash, Daddy.” She grinned up at him.
“Let me see those cute little hands.”
She held them up for his inspection, and he kissed her little fingers.
“Perfect. Let’s get you dried off. Your corn dogs are ready.” He knelt beside her and wiped her hands with the soft towel. When they were dry, she lifted them to cup his face.
“Pwetty Daddy.”
He stood and glanced in the mirror.
Shit.
Hard to look like a total badass when you looked like a drag queen.
“Thank you, baby. Now let’s go eat.”
As she sprang out the bathroom door, he snatched her up and carried her upside down to the kitchen. Her giggles and squeals made him smile. Warmed his heart. When he got back to where Abby stood at the breakfast bar, he wondered why she didn’t have any kids. She loved children. Or he’d thought she did. Maybe she’d changed more than just her hair and her clothes.
Her blue eyes darted between him and his daughter as he sat Izzy up on the counter and grabbed the ketchup from the refrigerator.
Izzy held up her corn dog and offered it to Abby. “Bite?”
Surreptitiously, he watched Abby’s reaction.
“Oh.” She smiled. “No thank you. I know you must be very hungry.”
Izzy shook her head and thrust the corn dog closer to Abby’s face. “Bite.”
Abby hesitated.
A second later, she smiled, and said, “Thank you.” Then she leaned forward and something weird moved in Jackson’s chest as her mouth opened and her white teeth flashed just before she took a bite. While Izzy giggled, Abby covered her mouth and laughed.
“That’s really good.” She looked at him. “Are you eating the second one?”
He shook his head.
“Mind if you give it to Izzy and I take this one?” She shrugged. “Guess I missed lunch.”
Silently, he handed the new dog to Izzy and marveled at his little girl’s acceptance of the stranger in their midst. As much as he hated to admit it, Abby was just as much a stranger to him as well.
“Mmm,” Izzy said.
“Mmmhmm,” Abby responded.
While he watched Abby’s white teeth dig in again and tear off a chunk of the breaded coating, he stood there wondering what the hell had just happened.
Bonding over a microwaved snack? That was a new one.
At a total loss, he folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. He wasn’t sure he liked that his daughter was so accepting of Abby. She’d changed. Where once he’d known everything about her, he now knew squat.
Hell, her husband could have divorced her because she’d become some kind of total whack job. Maybe she belonged on that show Snapped. Not that he would ever watch such a ridiculous program, but they’d done an episode on a Texas millionaire’s wife who conspired to kill her husband. Everyone at the station had talked about it ad nauseam. Tim “Meat” Volkoff, the driver of Engine One had said the episode gave him nightmares. And while they’d all laughed, Jackson had wondered what it would take for a woman to lose her mind like that.
&nbs
p; Holy crap.
He needed to get a hold on his ridiculous thoughts. The Abby he’d known—the one he’d spent nearly a lifetime with talking about everything from history pop quizzes to which core classes to take in college. From politics to religion. From whether Jack should have died in Titanic to whether the guy in My Best Friend’s Wedding should have ended up with Julia Roberts or Cameron Diaz. Abby had never even been the type to kill a spider. She’d had a gentle soul and a loving spirit. And she’d been the best friend a guy could ever ask for. Outside of his brothers, who often and every chance they had, gave him nothing but grief.
“I have to take Izzy home soon,” he blurted out. Both females looked at him as if he’d just announced the sky was made of dog poop.
“Oh. Okay. I’m sorry for taking up your time.” Abby took the last bite of her corn dog, wrapped the stick in the napkin, and tossed it in the trash. She ruffled Izzy’s curls as she passed by. “Thanks for sharing your snack, cutie pie. And it was very nice meeting you.”
His daughter smiled, and something tugged at his heart.
As Abby headed toward the door, he watched in fascination as the rhinestones on the back pockets of her jeans winked at him with each step. When she got to the door, she stopped and turned. He lifted Izzy from the counter to the floor, where she gave Abby an open and closed “bye-bye” hand. Then he walked to where Abby stood by the door. Waiting. Watching.
He opened the door, and she stepped out onto the landing.
She looked up at him and answered his unspoken questions. Well, some of them anyway.
“I didn’t come over here to bother you, Jackson. I ran into your mother at the Touch and Go. She noticed the carrots and celery in my cart and offered me a roast to go with them. She told me Reno had a freezer up here and just to come help myself. I had no idea that this was an apartment or that you lived here.”
He folded his arms. Rocked back on his heels. His mother was always up to something. Why had he thought she wouldn’t glom onto Abby the minute she’d discovered her back in town? She’d always loved his ex–best friend.
“You were tricked,” he said.
“Obviously.” She glanced away.
When her eyes came back to his, a jolt of electricity hit his spine.
“But I’m not sorry I came,” she said. “I’m glad I met your daughter. She’s adorable. She looks just like you.” Then she gave him a smile that trembled at the corners. “Your mom told me about Jared. And your dad.” Her eyes misted. “I’m so sorry. I had . . . no idea.”
She hadn’t known?
All this time he’d thought she just hadn’t cared.
A chunk of his bitterness chipped away.
“I know this is late,” she said, “and you may not care what I think, but I am deeply sorry for your loss. Your father was a wonderful man. And if I could have ever custom-ordered a brother for myself, Jared would have been perfect. They both meant a lot to me.”
As much as he’d like to think otherwise—even if the mist in her eyes wasn’t telltale enough—he knew her words were sincere. She’d tagged along after Jared and admired him just like the rest of them. And his dad had always treated her like the daughter he’d never had.
“I hope you’ll accept my sympathy,” she said.
“Of course.” It took everything he had to keep his voice level. To keep his hands at his sides instead of reaching out to take her in his arms. “And thank you.”
Like she had when she’d studied for a final or pondered over which calf to take to the fair, she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. Then a long sigh pushed from her lungs.
“We got off to a bad start earlier,” she said. “I don’t want to fight. I know there’s a lot of water under the bridge. But if it’s possible, I’d like to make things right between us.”
Was it possible?
He didn’t know.
“I guess time will tell.”
Abby gripped the handrail as she went down the stairs from Jackson’s apartment. When she reached the ground, she picked up the shoes she’d tossed over the rail earlier. It was then she noticed the chest freezer against the far wall, tucked into a corner away from the empty horse stalls. At least Jana Wilder hadn’t completely bamboozled her.
She opened the lid and took out a packaged roast and some ground beef. She didn’t care that the icy packages stung her arms as she carried them to the car. She didn’t care that the bottoms of her bare feet were picking up dirt, dust, and God only knew what else the horses had left behind. She didn’t care that half the groceries in her car were most likely warm and melted.
She tossed the beef into a bag, got inside, and sat behind the wheel. Heat rolled across the back of her neck as she stared out across the open meadow and rolling hills where she and the Wilder boys had once played, rode horses, and lived like there was no tomorrow.
Though she’d had troubles back then, with her mom and dad’s constant lapses in parenting and the task of taking over raising Annie, she’d had some of the best times of her life. And throughout whatever troubles she’d faced, she’d had Jackson right there beside her. What they couldn’t figure out together his parents had jumped in to help. The Wilders had always been more of a family to her than her own.
Jackson.
She hadn’t been there for him when he’d needed her most.
Before that, she’d always been there.
From the time he’d broken both arms falling off his horse, and she’d hand-carried his homework to him each day, to the time they’d studied for the SATs until dawn broke. He’d been her best friend . . . until the day she’d walked away thinking she could find something better.
What a joke.
There was no better.
And he now had a child.
A child he’d had with someone else while she’d tried to make herself believe the man she’d married could ever truly love her. Or that a child could save her pathetic ghost of a marriage.
She’d been wrong.
Seeing him again brought back everything wonderful she remembered. She’d meant it when she’d told him she wanted to make things right between them. Even if that only meant a general ease when they’d see each other instead of the gut-gripping intensity she felt now.
The expression in his eyes hadn’t given away what was in his mind or his heart.
Time will tell.
He hadn’t said yes.
But he hadn’t said no.
Which left a whole lot of room for hope.
Chapter 3
Jackson knocked out his shift at the San Antonio station with thirty minutes remaining. He’d never been a clock-watcher before, but with Reno still MIA, the family was taking turns to keep Wilder and Sons Hardware & Feed going until he returned. Jackson’s shift at the store was due to start in two hours—providing the fire bell didn’t ring before then.
Last time he’d talked to his big brother on the phone, Reno and Charli had packed up her apartment in L.A. and were driving back home via Sin City. Jackson hoped that didn’t mean they were stopping off at a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel. Not that Reno shouldn’t or wouldn’t put a ring on Charli’s finger, but because if their mother was denied throwing a big shindig of a wedding, the shit would fly.
While the rest of the A Shift lay sprawled out in the blue firehouse dayroom recliners watching Chopped and talking smack about which of them would do better on the show, Jackson perched on a stool and dealt a playing card to Mike “Hooch” Halsey. He waited for the man with the nickname unbefitting to his nondrinking lifestyle to stay or scratch for a hit on a card that would either relieve him of dish duty or whether he’d be assigned to the kitchen until the pile of pots and pans were scrubbed clean. When Hooch smiled, Jackson knew Captain John Steele was about to roll up his sleeves.
One of the best things about their captain was that he didn’t put himself on a different level than the firefighters. They all worked together whether it was washing the station windows or folding hose. The
y were a team. A unit. Just like Jackson and his brothers. Just like his fellow Marines.
“Flash ’em,” Hooch said with the grin he’d been known to give while raking in a pot of poker cash.
The cap laid out his cards. Ace of spades. King of hearts.
“Ha!” Jackson hooted a laugh. “He kicked your ass.”
“Hell.” Hooch tossed down his king and queen and stood. “I just took pity on him, that’s all.”
Cap stood too and the men were eye to eye.
“Don’t forget to wear your cute little apron,” Cap said with a smirk and a poke at Mike’s wide chest.
“Don’t you think it’s a little pathetic that you’re only willing to bet on some cups and plates and not throw down some hard cash, old man?” In good humor, Hooch poked at their captain, who was hardly ancient enough to be called an old man.
“I just wouldn’t want to see you crying like a little girl when I took your lunch money.”
Jackson laughed and stuck the playing cards back in the box.
“Crash?”
At the sound of the nickname he’d received as a rookie with his act first, think later approach, Jackson looked up.
“My office,” Cap said, then headed in that direction.
“Shit.” Hooch clamped his hand over Jackson’s shoulder. “What’d you do now?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Been keeping it clean.”
“Apparently not enough. Want me to go get the donut for you to use on the ride home after the ass whoopin’?”
“Ha-ha.” Aside from his brothers, he considered Mike one of his closest friends. They’d leaned on each other when they’d both gone through divorces. Lost their man cards by whining a time or two. And they never failed to razz the other whenever the opportunity arose.
He glanced up at the big clock on the cinder-block wall, hoping whatever problem Cap intended to take out of his backside would be quick and painless. He still had a thirty-mile drive home and a shift slinging bags of horse feed left in his day.
“Shut the door,” Cap said as he dropped down to the creaky chair vacated the previous year by his predecessor.
Shit. In the firehouse “Shut the door” usually meant a suspension or at the very least a warning. Jackson didn’t have a clue what would constitute a behind-closed-doors discussion, but he guessed he was about to find out.
