by Emilia Finn
“Aww, thank you, sweetpea. I’ll sit wherever you want me to sit.”
“Say goodbye, Iowa. You’re making us late.”
“Here.” Brooke steps forward and extends her hands to take Lyss. She’s too big for anyone to be carrying around anymore, but still, Brooke waits, taps her foot, lifts a dangerous brow when I make no move. “Miles.”
“Ugh.” I pull Lyss in extra tight and press a kiss to her cheek. “Daddy loves you, baby. I love you so, so, sooooo much.”
“I love you too, Daddy. Have a fun trip.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll be home not long after you finish school.”
“Okay.”
“Miss Brooke has your pens, okay? She knows how to use them, and you know how to use them too. I need you to be careful, okay? If something looks wrong, or if someone offers you food, just say no. You know the rules. If you’re hungry, tell Miss Brooke, and she’ll know what to give you. Don’t ask anybody else.”
“I know, Daddy.” She squeezes her arms tighter, crushes me in a hug. “I’m a big girl now. I know what to do.”
“Don’t leave the school with anybody except Brooke, okay? Nobody. Not even if they know your name. Don’t go near their car. Don’t talk to anybody.”
“Miles,” Brooke quietly admonishes. “You’re going to incite panic soon.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I bury my face against Lyss’ neck. “I’m sorry. I love you, baby. I trust you. Have a good sleep.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
“Here.” Evie pushes Brooke’s hands away, and takes Lyss from me instead.
It takes me only a second to understand what she’s trying to do for us.
“Brooke.” I take her hand, pull her in close and slide my hands into her hair. “I’m trusting you with my most treasured thing. I’m trusting you with my heart and soul.”
“Funny.” She wraps her arms around my neck and holds on close. “I could say the same thing. Take care of you. Drive safe. We’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll call you tonight. We can chat for as long as you need it.”
“I… uh…”
I swallow the I love yous I want to give her, and hold her closer so she can’t see them in my eyes.
“Be safe, beautiful. Look after my baby.”
“I’m humbled by your trust.” Her voice wobbles a little as I pull back and stare into her eyes. “Truly. I know what this is doing to you. Thank you for trusting me. I promise not to mess this up.”
“Alright, kids.” Evie’s voice finally turns serious. “I know this is tough, but we really do have to go.”
Nodding, I place a finger under Brooke’s jaw and tip her face up. Then I press my lips to hers so I can give her my heart without saying the words. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“It’s a date.” Licking her lips, Brooke steps back to flat feet and lets a slow grin creep over her face. “Have fun.”
“Here you go.” Evie passes Lyss to Brooke. Then she wags a finger between us. “And this?” She lifts a brow. Flashes a devilish grin. “I like this. Keep up the good work. Come on, Iowa, you can ride with us.”
Just then, a loud engine switches on, roars, and draws our eyes as Bryan rolls out of his driveway and slows to a stop out front of my house. He drives an old Chevrolet Camaro with the kind of engine that is too damn big for the car, so it pokes out the top of the hood for the extra air flow.
His music is loud enough to rival the engine, but then he turns it down, the door cracks open, and he steps out in heavy boots and black jeans that contradict a sporting getaway. He lifts a pair of sunglasses, reveals double bruising under his dark eyes, and lifts his chin.
“You get to ride with me, Iowa. Saddle up.”
Brooke
The Girls
Ten minutes ago, I was surrounded by shouts and cries of pain – the war found us, it damaged my army, killed many of my friends – but now, everything is terrifyingly silent. My heart beats louder than the forest. My breathing is louder than my heart.
Power surges and throbs; inside me, in my fingertips, in the space around me. My stomach tugs me drunkenly to the left, toward the energy it senses as my skin tingles and pebbles in anticipation. The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. I’m like an alcoholic who got his first whiff of expensive whiskey, as I step over boulders and under low-hanging branches with a goofy smile, and the power draws me nearer.
I don’t get even half a moment to react before the sensation moves from my left, and instead itches at my back. It’s like sharp claws sliding along my spine, stabbing fingernails tapping at my neck.
A muscular arm wraps around my body, and the biting edge of a blade comes to rest against my throat. “Took you long enough, Princess Tallulah. Welcome to my war.”
The school bell sounds in front of me, draws my attention away from Tully’s possible premature fate, and up to the doors that will open with a flourish in just a moment.
Miles has been gone only six hours; long enough for thirty-seven texts, and a single panic attack when I said I’d dropped Lyss off at school, and thought it odd that there was a creepy van parked out in front with a “free puppies” sign tacked to the door.
He doesn’t think I’m very funny.
They’ve arrived at their destination, they’re already training, but with every single text I send, I instantly get a “read” notification. He’s sticking close to his phone every single minute he’s away.
I pick my phone up now, knowing that there will be a text, because he’ll know school is letting out, and he’ll worry that I’ve forgotten, so I unlock my screen, and shake my head at his predictability. Instead of replying with words, I wait for her to emerge.
Thumb poised, I smile when the doors burst open. I wait, and watch when she races out with Charlie right beside her. He holds her hand and points right at me, and when she lifts her eyes – they were worried, a little scared – she grins.
And I take the picture.
I hit send, toss my phone aside, and jump out of the car so I can catch her when she races into my arms and launches herself so she half climbs my body with a single bound.
“Miss Brooke. You’re here!”
“I told you I would be.” I press a kiss to her cheek, smoosh it in so hard that she squeals and giggles, then I lower her back down when Charlie reaches us and wraps a single arm around my hips.
He’s my cousin, but he’s so much younger than me, Evie, Bean and the rest. Uncle Jack is a whole decade younger than my dad – he was the teen package deal my mom came to the relationship with – so his kids came much later than Mom and Dad’s.
“Did you worry I wouldn’t be here, baby?”
“Little bit. Not a heap,” she chatters. “But a little, tiny bit.”
“Well, now you know you can trust me. I’ll never let you down. Guess what?”
Her eyes light up. “What?”
“Your dad called me today.”
“For real? He did?”
“He did. He called while they were still driving, and said he already misses you. Bry said hello, too.”
“Really?” Her voice is so happy. So awed. “How do you know?”
“Because I heard him,” I laugh. “He literally shouted it so I would hear. He said ‘Tell Lyssy I said hey!’”
“Aww.” She melts right in front of me, swoons for my brother, like poor little Charlie wouldn’t notice. “Are we going home now?”
“Yup. Charlie, where’s your mom?”
“She’s inside. She saw me bringing Lyss out and said she’d be out in a sec. Can I come home with you, Brooke? I could show Lyss the forest, and take the dogs for a walk.”
“Er…” I grit my teeth. “No, I don’t think it would be okay if you took Lyss into the forest on your own. But you can come with us if you want. We’re going home to bake some yummy cakes for Lyss’ school lunches.”
“I could help.” His bright blue eyes – Reilly eyes, just like mine – light up as he swings his bag off his
back and tosses it through my car window. Well, Miles’ car, since Lyss has a car seat she needs to use still. Charlie outgrew his own a year or two back, which means he can climb into the back and buckle up like a regular person. “Want me to go back in and tell Mom?”
“Nah, it’s okay.” I open my car door and reach in for my phone.
Miles has already replied with his barrage of texts professing his love for his beautiful mini-him, but I flip to the text chat I have with Britt, hit reply, type: I’ve got your demon spawn. I’ll keep him outta prison till you get home.
It takes only a moment for her reply to come through: Awesome. I’ll be home around five. I’ll collect him at six.
Frowning, I reply: If you’re off at five, why do you need an hour?
I smile as Lyssa giggles at something Charlie says to her, completely oblivious to my presence while he acts a fool just for her, then Britt’s final reply comes through and draws my eyes: Grow up, Brooklyn. Aunty Britt thanks you. Love you.
Ew. My aunt and uncle are going to have sex while their oldest kid isn’t at home, and I’m the lucky soul who gets to watch him, knowing what they’re doing.
It makes me smile, and because I really want to hear his voice, I move back to Miles’ text thread, hit dial, and wait.
“Brooklyn! Is she okay?”
The sounds of laughter come from behind him. Grunts. Fists hitting chests, and then the splash of water as someone tosses someone else who they claim, in any other situation, they love.
I never became a fighter, because I never considered hitting people or sweating for eight hours a day my kind of fun, but that doesn’t mean the sounds of fighting don’t call to my soul. The competition, the atmosphere, and the celebration when we win. It’s an addiction in a way, and not one I dislike. So hearing that now, hearing my father’s distinctive laugh as they horse around, and Uncle Jon’s frustrated grumble when Daddy does something to annoy him, it’s my home, just as much as Miles is now.
“Brooke?”
“Hey.” I nibble on my pinky fingernail and absorb the sound of his voice. “I’ve missed you.”
He sighs, like my response relieves him of the terror that something bad has happened to Lyss, then he clears his throat. I imagine him running a hand through his hair. It’s probably wet, since they’re by the river and dunking people. So then I imagine him in those boardshorts he wears in my family’s pool. I think of his broad chest. His crooked grin. And then those intense eyes; they see everything. They see too much, and yet, not enough.
“I miss you too,” he whispers. “It’s been half a damn day, and I miss you.”
“I have something for you. A surprise.”
“Yeah? Is it you and my daughter right here with me? Is that my surprise, because if you just happened to drive in right now, I wouldn’t be mad.”
“No, I’m sorry.” And I am. I truly am. “But I have the next best thing.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, hit speaker, and pass it to Lyss. “Speak up, baby.”
“Daddy?” Surprisingly, she bursts into tears. “Daddy, I miss you!”
“Alyssa? Why are you crying, baby?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know, Daddy. It just happened.”
I was going to open the car door, help her in, and buckle up, but instead I hold out a hand. “Can I have that for one quick second, baby?”
She passes the phone with shaking hands, steps against my body, and wraps her arms around my thigh, and rests her face on my belly.
“She’s overwhelmed,” I tell Miles. “Just hold on one sec?”
“What are you—”
I kill the call, then hit redial, but this time, with video. Then I sit on the blacktop, press my back against the car, and pull Lyss down so she sits in my lap just as Miles answers.
His face fills our screen, his worry, his fear, but then he sees us too, and softens. “Don’t cry, baby! Daddy’s here.”
I snag Charlie’s hand when he rocks back and forth, unsure where to go, then I pull him down to sit beside me, throw my arm over his shoulder to hold him close, and press a kiss to the top of his head.
His little friend is crying, and like a typical boy, he has no clue how to handle it.
“We learned about cats today, Daddy.”
“You did?” His eyes flicker to me every couple of seconds, that smile, the happiness he gifts me, then he looks back to Lyss. “What did you learn?”
“They have thirty-two muscles in each ear.”
“Truly?”
“Uh huh! And did you know Isaac Newton invented the cat door?”
“Uh… nope. I didn’t know that.”
“Can we get a cat, Daddy?”
He bursts out laughing, and shakes his head before her sentence is complete. “No, baby. We can’t. You’re allergic to cat dander. It’ll make you itchy.”
“Oh…” Her face falls into a scowl. “That stinks. But at least we have Twain, right? He doesn’t make me itchy.”
“Right, baby. Despite the fact I said you absolutely cannot have a dog, it would seem that you now have a dog.”
“I love him,” she happily sighs. “He’s my favorite dog in the whole world. Oh!” Her eyes light up. “Are you swimming?”
“Sorta.” Miles extends his arm to show us what’s happening behind him.
Of course my twin cousins – Rob and Luke – are making the most noise, as they wear what were once white Gi pants, but are now stained and brown from the water. They also wear their black belts. They’ve been training their whole lives, so the moment they were old enough to grade, they were all over it, making the rest of us look lazy when we compare our technical skills.
My dad wears his Gi top, but it long ago came undone; half of it is untucked from his belt, and exposes half of his chest. Beside him, Bry emerges from the river, shakes his head to send water whipping away, then his eyes lock on us… on Miles.
He runs through the shallow river, sends water spraying ahead as he runs, and slams Miles halfway to the side so he can get into the frame. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey.” I smile.
“Not you.” He laughs and looks to Lyssa. “Hey there, cutie. You just finishing school?”
“Uh huh.”
“Dude!” Miles pulls away from him, shoves. “Why are you so nice to her?”
“Because she’s adorable, duh.” He looks back to the camera. “What did you learn about today?”
“Cats! I want to get a cat, but Daddy said no.”
“That’s because your daddy is a wet blanket. I’ll get you a cat, baby girl. You want a boy or a girl?”
“Bry!” Miles shoves him again. “Dude! Don’t undermine my parenting.” I know, I just know, in my heart, he wanted to end that sentence with ‘motherfucker’. “She can’t have a cat, or else she’ll get itchy. When she gets itchy, we need steroid cream. You wanna be responsible for that?”
“What does the steroid cream do to her?” He lifts a muscled arm and flexes. You get gains, Lyss?”
“Not gains, you idiot. It’ll stunt her growth and hurt her skin if we use it for too long.”
“Oh.” His eyes widen. “Oh! My bad. No cat for you, baby. What about a horse? Miss Brooke always wanted one of those. Uncle’ll buy you a horse.”
“Dude!”
“Daddy,” Lyss scowls. “Stop being mean.” Then she looks to Bry. “Yes please!”
Miles
A Friendship of Sorts
Of course I spent my days away from Lyss when she was a baby. I had to work, and I had no damn choice but to leave her with Karla at first, then Lorna. When you have no choice, somehow it seems easier. You can play the victim role, accept that this wasn’t your choice, so you go about your day, get your work done, then you rush home again and soak up all of the love and hugs you missed out on that day.
But what I’m doing these past two days, they weren’t compulsory, they weren’t the difference between rent and homelessness. Maybe Evie nagged me, and maybe Bobby press
ed it. Maybe Brooke insisted, and maybe Bry drove me here, but not one of them took the choice out of my hands.
I’m here at the river with friends, training, laughing, having fun, and I chose to be. I chose this. I can try to wrap myself up in the they made me defense, but that would be lying to myself.
I wanted to come. Yes, I miss my daughter, I miss Brooke, too. But I wanted to come; I just needed someone to take the choice out of my hands.
The sound of boots on hardpacked dirt and gravel draw my eyes.
It’s funny how after only two days of constantly being around these people, I know each person’s gait. Bobby is heavy-footed. Evie is light and fast. Lucy is lighter yet; she’s almost silent. Ben walks with a type of rhythm, and somehow, like they learned it from years of being best friends, Mac’s rhythm is almost the same, except he has a heavy thump every now and then, from a busted leg that’ll always give him a little trouble.
Something I never noticed until this time away.
I’ve fought him in the octagon, trained with him in the gym, run laps of our town, and it took until we were together for two days straight for me to notice the limp he hides.
He has the strength and willpower of a saint. And maybe I dominated and won our fight the first year of Stacked Deck, but fuck knows, if he was fully fit, I probably would have stood no chance.
The footsteps that call my attention now are heavier than any of the others’. It’s a Kincaid heavy-step, but not Bobby.
I lean a hip against his Camaro, with my phone clutched tightly in my hand, a text fresh in my mind, complete with pictures of Brooke and Lyss in my kitchen as they prepare to bake a batch of muffins for school lunches. They’re prepped and ready to go, and there’s not an allergen in sight.
“Iowa, get your fuckin’ ass off my car before I belt you for scratching her.”
I grin, but I push off the shiny frame and turn to face Brooke’s brother. “You ready to go?”
