Your Hand in Mine (Blackbird Series Book 2)

by Lily Foster

  She kept showing up with groceries, being that I don’t have what you’d call a well-stocked pantry, and I didn’t want her spending her own money. I felt guilty enough coming home to the most delicious dinners I’ve had since I was a kid living with my parents, so there was no way in hell I was about to let her shell out for the wild caught Pacific salmon she was buying. I told her I’d get her a credit card under my personal business account and register her as an authorized user. No big deal. But Skylar’s eyes shot down to the floor, she shook her head and gave me a flat-out no without an explanation. I let it go, and a few days later she came clean and told me why she wouldn’t be approved for a credit card once they ran her name and social security number.

  I was speechless there for a minute, think I sank back down onto the couch but I’m not sure. This girl was now in my house more days a week than she wasn’t. I’d come to rely on her and my daughter basically thought Skylar hung the moon. But I didn’t know a thing about her. Not anything that mattered, anyway.

  I didn’t know Sky lost her parents just six months ago. Both of them at once and in such a tragic way—I felt sick when she first told me. But to lose your parents and then find out that your father had stolen from Peter to pay Paul, as she put it?

  When I lifted my head from my hands and looked at her, she raised her chin in defiance and said, “My father was a good man. I know he must have been in a very bad place to do what he did.”

  Nope, I don’t buy it. That’s what I wanted to say. As far as I was concerned, her father was nothing more than a lowlife, a con man. His crimes unforgivable because he conned his family, his own children, the people he was supposed to protect above all else. But what good would that do? I could see in Skylar’s expression that she was still wrestling with her own complicated feelings on the subject. She needed understanding from me and nothing more.

  “I wish you would have told me.”

  “It’s hard to talk about it.”

  “I get that, but I hope to God that you don’t feel ashamed. Not in front of me.”

  “I used to be proud of my family.” She was trying to be matter-of-fact about the whole thing, stoic, but her watery eyes gave her away. “I mean, we weren’t like the perfect family, but we had a nice house, my father was well-respected, my mother had a seat on the school board. It’s hard not to feel ashamed after everything gets stripped away and everyone can see all the ugly. And I guess I feel sort of ridiculous because I never saw it coming.”

  “I think lying becomes easier the more you do it. Some people get very good at hiding who they really are.”

  I know that from experience.

  Leaning against the car I’m supposed to be working on at the moment, I’m thinking back to that night, remembering the way I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and give her some comfort the way a brother or a good friend would.

  I go to pull up the app on my screen so that I can delete it. It doesn’t feel right to have it anymore. I trust Skylar with my daughter, and don’t want to give her a reason to ever think otherwise.

  To be honest, there’s a part of me that’s a little bit afraid of that feisty girl too. I’m sure she’d understand. I mean, only an idiot would leave their kid alone with a caregiver they don’t know without a way to check up on them. But what if she did find out about that camera perched on top of the refrigerator that gives a full view of the open-concept first floor? Would she flip her shit? Would she quit?

  The app opens on my phone but before I can switch to settings, I’m drawn in by the sound of some God awful singing. Two off-key voices in tandem butchering Adele’s When We Were Young. And I can’t help but laugh when I see my daughter using a wooden spoon as a microphone to belt out her own version of the lyrics. “Let me to-to-graph you in the light…” Damn, she’s adorable.

  Skylar is singing along too, and then she breaks into a slow step, rocking her hips from side to side as she sings into a spatula, loud and off-key, just like Libs. It’s comical, watching the way Olivia keeps looking up at Skylar and then trying her best to imitate her dance moves. But when my eyes drift and then fix on Skylar, comical and cute is not how I’d describe the show she’s putting on. The girl may not be able to carry a tune, but she can move. She’s not doing anything provocative. It’s just simple and rhythmic, the way she’s moving her hips back and forth. But damn, she has me close to salivating inside of a minute.

  She’s beautiful.

  I imagine placing my hands on those hips, feeling the soft skin peeking out above the waistband of the jeans hugging her curves. With her free hand Skylar takes her long brown hair and moves it over one shoulder, and the gesture takes me back to my night out a few months ago, to that girl who ran out like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight.

  But she isn’t that girl, and as I switch back to the settings so that I can delete the nanny cam app, I mentally scold myself for thinking about Skylar in that way. I’m her employer and she is the most valued employee that I’ve ever had. I will not screw this up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Skylar

  “How do you feel today?”

  “Same as I did yesterday…I feel like a whale.”

  “You look great, Sienna. Seriously, you can barely tell you’re pregnant until you turn to the side.”

  Garth calls out, “And then it’s like…Whoa!”

  Thank the Lord Sienna laughs at this. My sister basically never gets mad at her husband.

  I was just there visiting last weekend, but with her due date now less than three weeks away I’m checking in at least two times a day.

  Some things will never change: I’m nervous, she’s not.

  “We have an appointment tomorrow morning. I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

  “Call me either way, news or no news.”

  “I will. I love you, Sky.”

  “Love you too.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do, Garth.”

  I’m laughing as I end the call.

  “Is the baby here yet?”

  “Not yet, Olivia, but soon.” I lead her over to the wall calendar. “See where I circled the day here, on the twenty-fourth? That’s when the doctor thinks the baby will come. But the baby could come any day,” I tell her as I drag my finger over the days in between now and the due date.

  Olivia puts her finger on the day where we drew a red heart. “I want the baby to come this day.”

  “On Valentine’s Day? Yeah, that would be great, wouldn’t it?”

  “Can I come see the baby?”

  “I can ask your dad. I think he’ll say yes.” She’s smiling from ear to ear. “And Sienna and Garth would love to meet you.”

  “I want a sister.”

  “Remember what we talked about?”

  She looks down into the sink where the pots and pans sit soaking in the suds. “Every family is different.”

  “Yes, every family is different.”

  She’s standing on a chair next to me, the both of us wearing rubber gloves. I smile thinking back to last week when Olivia ordered her father to wash the plate he’d just used, parroting my words: Good cooks have clean kitchens. I thought he was going to bust his gut laughing.

  It’s good to see him laugh, like to the point where it makes me feel all warm and tingly. I still can’t say that I know him well, but I’ve collected bits and pieces of him along the way. In the very least I feel like I understand him a little better now.

  He’s brilliant, I know that much. Poking my head into the garage he uses as a workshop one day, I was feeling sassy when I asked, “What do you do in here?”

  He was taken off guard. Lifted the welding face shield up and stared at me for a long ten seconds or so before answering, “I build engines, like for cars.”

  “Oh. I thought you were an engineer.”

  “I am.”

  “A mechanical engineer like your friend, Ed?”

  “Yeah, but I’m a mechanic first.”

&nbs
p; “Like, a mechanic who could fix my car?”

  “I could fix your car, but I think it deserves to be put out to pasture.”

  I try to smile because I know he was just joking, but he senses his misstep and apologizes.

  “No, I get it. It’s a junker but I prefer the term vintage.”

  “Is it running all right? I’ll take a look at it if you want.”

  “How in the heck would I know?” I laugh and it’s genuine now. Gesturing outside, I tease, “You make me drive that monstrosity.”

  The monstrosity I’m referring to is a new model Mercedes GLC complete with every available safety feature.

  At first I was driving my car here and then using the SUV to cart Olivia around, but Leo now insists on me taking the car back and forth to campus. He says that he can’t be late for work in the event that my crappy Sentra breaks down or can’t handle the winter weather, but sometimes I get the feeling that he’s looking after me, taking care where I’m concerned. I’m sure it’s just wishful thinking on my part.

  Over the past few months I’ve pieced together that he’s a great deal more than your everyday mechanic, or mechanical engineer for that matter. He also moonlights as a supervising engineer for a team on the professional racing circuit, and he holds patents for advanced technologies used in race cars, as well as regular old passenger vehicles.

  The mechanic thing explains the rough skin on his hands and the speck-like stains underneath his fingernails that never come one hundred percent clean. And when I’m finding dirty fingernails hot, you know I’m hard up and my head is in a very weird place.

  This man is my boss, but it’s vastly different from the kind of relationship you develop in an office. I mean, I’ve only held one office position so I don’t know much, but the way I feel about Leo Hale is vastly different from the way I felt about my department chair, Doctor Thompson.

  I’m in his home, I’m the one his daughter snuggles up next to on the couch, and I cook his dinner at least three nights a week even though he begs me not to. I do it under the guise of improving Olivia’s eating habits, and while there’s been major improvements made on that front, I also do it because I want him to eat well. He works so hard and he’s juggling this parenting thing all alone. In the very least he deserves some good, home-cooked meals.

  It took a few weeks for me to figure it out. When I asked about Olivia’s mother and he said she was out of the picture, I assumed there was a bad break-up story involved. The words he used—Her mother isn’t in the picture at all—at the time I was sure they were said in anger. But I read that wrong. She’s deceased, so I’m thinking that was anguish and pain I heard in his voice.

  I imagine it’s a lot of pressure being a single parent. Add tragedy and grief into the mix and it’s no wonder that grumpy is his default mode. He’s not that way with Olivia, and I’ve seen him laughing with his friends when they come over to play cards just as I’m getting ready to leave for the day, but I imagine that he misses his wife and the sadness is a heavy weight to bear.

  “Whatever you whipped up this time, it smells incredible.”

  I turn to see him walking in the door and watch as he pulls off his hat and coat. His cheeks are red and his hands look raw with cold. February is no joke in Pennsylvania.

  “Don’t you own a pair of gloves?”

  “Yeah.” Olivia wiggles her rubber glove-clad hands like she’s channeling Beyonce in the video for All the Single Ladies. “You need gloves, Daddy.”

  He looks to her like she holds his heart in her hands. “You’re right. Daddy should wear gloves. It’s colder than a witch’s, um…It’s cold out there tonight.”

  “It’s supposed to drop to ten below overnight.”

  “Is the heat in your dorm room working properly?”

  “Please, it’s always too hot. I don’t know how or why, but even on a night like tonight it will feel like a sauna in my room. The second I get inside I’ll strip down to a tank top and shorts.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I’m turning red now thinking maybe that was TMI.

  “Tell your dad what’s on the menu for tonight.”

  “Cawafower rice, pink fish and beans amadee.”

  “That’s right.” I translate, “Pink fish, otherwise known as salmon, served over cauliflower rice with green beans almondine.”

  “I know I always tell you it’s too much effort and not to bother, but I’m starving and this smells unbelievably good.”

  “Enjoy.”

  Walking to the foyer to grab my coat and bag, I’m just about to say goodnight when he stops me. “Can you stay and have dinner with us?”

  “Um, I just figured you’d want some alone time with—”

  “Stay, Skylar.” Libby pleads in her sing-song voice.

  “I won’t feel good about eating this food knowing you’re going back to eat at the campus dining hall. I don’t remember the food being all that appetizing. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t like this,” he says as he starts spooning food onto the plates I set out on the counter.

  What the hell. It does smell great, and it’s late, so the cafeteria will be limited to those fried chicken sandwiches and burgers at this hour. “Ok.”

  Libby puts a napkin down at each place and I get the utensils. We fill the cups from the water dispenser and sit down just as Leo puts our plates in front of us.

  “Daddy, Sky showed me how to get bones out today.”

  “Yeah?”

  I cover my mouth. “The salmon. I showed her how to use a tweezers to get the bones out.”

  “Nice. You’re learning life skills, little girl.”

  Then he takes a mouthful and flat-out moans. And I want to moan right along with him because watching him eat is like porn for this sex-starved girl. Who knew that watching a man enjoy the food you’ve prepared for him is such a turn on? Hmm, maybe that’s just my own personal kink.

  We eat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, and when I allow myself to look at him again, I see that his eyes are fixed on Libby. Her table manners could use some work, but I don’t think he’s focused on that. I’m used to the fact that she’s done a complete one-eighty where vegetables are concerned, but I think he’s still taken by the site of her munching on string beans or scooping mashed sweet potatoes into her little mouth.

  “Good stuff, Olivia. Thank you, both of you, for cooking this delicious dinner.”

  “You’re welcome,” the two of us say in unison, and then Olivia breaks into a fit of giggles.

  In the next moment, Olivia slaps her hand on the table and looks up to her father with a sudden sense of urgency. “Daddy, I can go see the baby. You say yes, right?”

  “Oh.” I wipe my mouth and then stand up to bring my plate to the sink. “Olivia asked if she could come with me one time to visit after my sister’s baby is born. I told her we had to ask you first.”

  Libby puts a hand up to each side of her head, wiggles and makes a wide-eyed goofy face. “Sky said I gonna lose my mind when I meet her sister.”

  Now I’m doubled over laughing because she’s freaking adorable, and Leo is looking back and forth between the two of us like we’ve already lost our minds.

  “I showed Libby a picture, but it’s nothing like seeing the two of us side by side. It freaks people out sometimes.”

  “I’m gonna be a mommy and have twin babies when I get big.”

  He coughs. “That’s a loooong way off, little lady.” Then looking to me, he asks, “You and your sister are twins?”

  “I thought I mentioned it.”

  “No.”

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket and pull up the most recent picture of the two of us. Garth took it a few weeks ago. It’s simple, just the two of us sitting side by side on the couch with our heads tilted in towards one another. I know who’s who, but I realize that to most people we look like mirror images of the other.

  Olivia wedges herself in between her father and the table. “See?” She’s pointing to the screen. �
�They the same.”

  “Wow. Identical.”

  “Yep,” Libby says, “not aternal.”

  “Fraternal,” I correct her. “I was telling Libby about the difference because she has twins in her preschool class who don’t look alike.”

  “Matthew and Meghan.”

  “Right,” he says absently, still studying the picture. “That must have been different. I’d imagine it’s a very unique way to grow up.”

  “I mean, I don’t know anything else, but I suppose it seems strange to other people. Me and Sienna are definitely connected in a way that’s more intense than traditional siblings…Like two halves of one whole. It’s got some drawbacks I guess, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  He hands the phone back to me with a soft smile and his fingers innocently brush mine. I feel ridiculous, and look away to hide the blush creeping up my neck and across my cheeks.

  If this man only knew the role he’s been playing in my nightly bedtime routine. Thank God my roommate now spends most nights at her girlfriend’s off-campus apartment. Her absence gives me the freedom to do as I please. And apparently, thinking about Leo Hale touching me is very, very pleasing.

  I have to get out of here.

  I reach for Olivia’s plate but he puts his hand on my forearm, branding me yet again. “No way, Sky. You two cooked so I clean.”

  I like it when he says my name. Maybe a little too much. I can already see tonight’s scene taking shape in my head. He’ll be wrapping that same hand around my hair, pulling it back and over so that he can breathe my name into the skin of my neck as his free hand roams over my breasts, down to my hips and then lower still.

  Ok, now it feels like it’s topping one hundred degrees in here. He’s too close, and I’m not known for my poker face. If he really studied my expression at the moment I’m sure he’d be able to read my mind and then the gig would be up. I’m suddenly finding it hard to keeps my breaths even and calm.