Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  Twilight was at its deepest, the entire earth cast in that shadowy blue that stifled the air in the moments just before the night fully took hold of the day.

  Frankie and I had spent the entire day at the lake, playing in the water, hiking, building a fire, and grilling the burgers I’d picked up before we’d taken the twenty-minute drive out to our favorite spot. The lake calm, the beach secluded, the sky cloudless.

  It’d been the perfect kind of afternoon.

  That same twenty-minute drive home had rocked Frankie to sleep in the back of the truck, her little head bobbing to one side where she dozed in her car seat.

  I pulled my truck into the driveway at the side of the house and killed the engine before going directly for Frankie, unbuckling her and then lifting her into my arms.

  She felt so small and light like this, when all that energy had finally drained and she was just the tiny little thing that had been given into my care. The one who needed me to protect and shield her. Her shelter and her harbor.

  I angled her to the side so I could slide the key into the lock and let us into the stillness of the small house that I did my very best to make a home. Half the time it felt like I didn’t have a single clue what the fuck I was doing, but I got up every single morning and did it anyway.

  Frankie barely stirred when I laid her on her twin bed and tugged the flip-flops from her feet, changed her into her pajamas, and tucked her under the cool sheet. Her head was on her pillow, those wild, tangled locks all around her. I brushed them back from her face, gazing down at her and wondering how something so good could come out of a situation that was so utterly fucked.

  Wondering if she was my blessing.

  My reprieve.

  Or if the insane worry that constantly roiled inside me was another element of the curse that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

  Pushing it down in the depths of my spirit, I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, silently promising her it didn’t make a difference either way.

  That it didn’t change my devotion to her.

  This mad kind of love that took up every cell in my body. It came into existence the first time I’d held her in my arms.

  Sparked to life that cold winter night.

  A permanent flame.

  One I’d thought had been forever dimmed.

  On a sigh, I pushed to my feet and shuffled from her room, leaving the door open a crack and a light on in the hall in case she needed me. I headed into the kitchen, pulled a cold beer from the fridge, and popped the cap.

  I took a swig as I peered out the kitchen window. It was the exact same picture that’d been there since the day I’d moved in. Though, I doubted I could ever consider the view the same.

  9

  Rynna

  The oven buzzed.

  My nerves went haywire, shooting into overdrive as I grabbed the mitts and pulled the pie from the oven. The sweet, decadent scent spilled into the kitchen and basked it in a homey warmth.

  “Perfect,” I murmured beneath my breath, my chest filling with pride and something wistful as I took in the way the crust, which I had made from scratch, had baked to a golden brown. The sugar I’d sprinkled on top had caramelized to perfection, and piping hot cherries bubbled up through the hole in the middle.

  I had the fleeting thought that this was the easy part. Baking something to perfection. It was the changing of minds that was difficult. Drawing people to what you had to offer and convincing them it was exactly what they needed.

  So help me God, Rex Gunner was going to be my first customer.

  And we weren’t talking dollars and cents.

  We were talking trust and camaraderie.

  Friendship.

  If I were being honest, I would admit I might envision more. Admit there was something about him and his little girl that called to me. Awakening that place in me that I’d shored away, a place that had always wanted the simple things in life.

  Simple is better.

  How many times had my grandmother told me that very thing as she worked her recipes that always related so easily to life?

  At the very least, I was seeking a truce in this cold war Rex seemed intent to wage against me when I’d committed no offense or crime.

  I let the pie cool for a few minutes before I gathered my courage and slipped on my shoes. I stepped out into the breaking night. Once again, I was struck with the overpowering sense of comfort.

  The scent of the fragrant honeysuckle. The sound of the bugs that trilled in the bushes. The towering trees blowing in the whispering breeze.

  Home.

  That same small window that gave a direct view into Rex’s house was lit. I could see him sitting by himself at a small table somewhere to the back of the kitchen area, continually raking a hand through his hair as he nursed a beer.

  He appeared so utterly alone even though I’d seen him return home with his daughter about forty-five minutes ago.

  My spying no longer gave me the sense of violating his privacy.

  It felt like a mission.

  That it held a purpose for his greater good. Or maybe his little girl’s. I didn’t know.

  I just knew there was absolutely nothing I could do but stand at his door with a peace offering.

  A thank you.

  Balancing the gooey pie in both hands, I nudged at the door with my elbow. My heart sped when I heard the scraping of chair legs against the floor and the rustling within the house, my blood becoming a thunder that rushed through my veins.

  Then I sensed the pause. The presence that was so clearly right on the other side of the door, that severity hot as it blazed through the wood.

  There might as well have been no separation between us.

  Because I could feel him. The conflict and reluctance.

  God, why did he have this kind of effect on me?

  It only grew when I felt the resignation, heard the slow slide of metal and the creak of hinges as he barely cracked open the door, only a single wary eye visible. “What are you doing here, Rynna?”

  I lifted my hands so he could see what I was holding. “I baked you a pie.”

  Exasperation bled into his tone as he opened the door a bit wider. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because it’s a neighborly thing to do.” It almost came across as irritated. But then I was taken back to the way he’d stepped into the line of fire for me. The way he’d talked to me at the bar. Openly. As if he wanted to let me in but he didn’t know how or if he could. The way he’d taken off as if I had suddenly become a danger to him.

  My voice deepened with sincerity. “You saved me last night, Rex, I wanted to properly thank you.”

  “It’s not necessary,” he said, words gruff. If it weren’t for that flash in the depths of those eyes, I would have bought the act.

  “I just—”

  “Please . . . leave us alone, Rynna.” It was a plea.

  He started to shut the door in my face again, but he winced, freezing when the sweet, excited voice broke through the aversion. “Ms. Dayne? What’cha doin’ here?”

  She rubbed her tiny fists in her bleary eyes. The little girl took the definition of bedhead to a whole new level.

  Rex cringed, his lips pursing and that throat that kept making me lose my train of thought bobbing heavily. An edge of defensiveness threaded into his words. “We were at the lake all day . . . she didn’t get her bath before she fell asleep.”

  “I not tired anymore, Daddy,” she said, shaking her head as if she were shaking off even the idea of going back to bed.

  “It’s late, Frankie Leigh.”

  She totally ignored her dad, her smile so wide when she shot forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his thigh before gazing up at me. “What do you gots? Is that a Pepper Pie? Oh, yummy.” She jumped in place and tugged at her dad’s shirt. “Daddy, she gots a Pepper Pie! Is that for me?”

  At least someone appreciated my efforts.

  I smiled down at her. �
�It is for you. But it’s super hot right now, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to have a piece so you don’t burn yourself. That’s if your daddy says it’s okay. And be sure to save a piece for him in case he wants one. Deal?”

  “Deal!” She blinked at me. “I want a puppy!”

  I subtly shifted the brunt of the weight of the pie from one hand to the other, the scalding temperature making its way into the mitts. “You do?”

  “Uh-huh. But Daddy said it’s not a good idea rights now. Do you gots any good ideas?”

  “Um . . . I’m not sure.” Light laughter slipped free, her sweetness tugging at my chest. Maybe there was such a thing as too adorable. Because right then, I’d probably give her anything she asked me for.

  I shifted the mitts again, and Rex sighed.

  “Is that hot?” His teeth gritted when he asked it. As if he were dreading my answer. As if he didn’t want to be concerned but couldn’t stop himself.

  I shifted it again. “A little bit.”

  He looked to the ground, issuing a soft curse beneath his breath, the word only ringing in my ear because I was able to read it on the movement of his soft, full lips. On a resigned sigh, he stepped back and widened the door the rest of the way. “Come in . . . set it on the kitchen counter.”

  With the way he cringed, I’d have thought the invitation caused him physical pain.

  I whispered, “Thank you,” and slipped inside, my body grazing his when I passed.

  A tiny gasped breached my lips. The heat on my hands was nothing compared to the heat that scorched my skin.

  Attraction swept me head to toe.

  It was possibly the most foolish emotion I’d ever felt.

  Because it was unfathomable.

  Overwhelming.

  Too much.

  Sucking in a breath, I forced myself to step the rest of the way inside.

  My jaw dropped in awe. “Wow.”

  The interior of their house was totally not what I’d expected. I’d expected something closer to my grandmother’s house. A quaint, comfortable home that could use a fresh coat of paint among a million other things.

  Shabby and totally missing the chic.

  Rex’s place had been entirely renovated. The floors were a gorgeous, shiny wood, and the white crown molding lining the ceilings matched the mantel and hearth of the fireplace, which was the focal point of the living room. A big television hung on the wall above, and a brown leather sectional sat in the middle of the room.

  And the kitchen.

  Good God.

  The kitchen.

  It was a dream with its butcher block island, huge oven, and farm-style sink. That small table that was my vantage through the window was nestled in the middle of the two rooms.

  “This is unbelievable.”

  Suddenly, I was remembering Lillith telling me how he’d grown a small construction company into the biggest contractor in the area.

  I spun around. “You did this?”

  Discomfort rippled across his gorgeous face, something humble and vulnerable showing through the rigid veneer. “It’s kind of what I do.”

  “You definitely do a good job of it.” I didn’t mean to whisper it, didn’t mean to get locked in his stare, didn’t mean for my mouth to go dry, or my belly to tumble and twist and flip with the most foolish kind of butterflies.

  Because his jaw clenched, and his spine went rigid with my compliment.

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I forced myself to turn away and take a breath. To get myself together. I set the pie on the counter and turned back around. “I’m sorry to barge in the way I did. I just wanted to say thank you. I really hope you enjoy the pie. I know my grandma would have wanted you to have it.”

  I started to make my escape, when Frankie snagged my pinky finger in her tiny fist, her voice just as excited as ever. “You wants to see my room?”

  My eyes darted to Rex.

  That same anger from the first day, the anger I couldn’t make sense of, the anger that seemed barely contained, flamed in his eyes. Glints of fire beneath the ornate pendant lights.

  I could barely force out the words. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now. I think it’s past your bedtime.”

  “Oh, oh, I know. You can reads me my bedtime story. How’s that sound? You wanna read with me? Can she, Daddy?” She was grinning at her dad, one hundred percent oblivious to the sudden rage I could see crawl just beneath the surface of his tanned skin, the muscles ticking as he stared me down.

  “I—”

  “Oh, please, please, please.”

  I looked at Rex for help, already knowing I was so far out of bounds. My mission taking me too deep into enemy territory, and I’d tripped a bomb.

  But somehow, he softened when he looked down at her. As if the little hurricane was his calm. “Five minutes, Frankie Leigh, then lights out.”

  “All right, Daddy. Five minutes,” she promised with a resolute nod. She turned and hauled me toward the hall that opened right between the living room and kitchen, just on the other side of the table.

  I stumbled along behind her, chancing a glance over my shoulder to look at her father.

  Fear.

  It was so blatant beneath that hard, rigid, beautiful exterior that it clamped down on my chest, a fist on my heart.

  The terror in his expression tore through me like a storm.

  Whipping and rending.

  I pried my gaze away and followed Frankie into her room, wondering what on earth I’d actually hoped I’d achieve when I’d decided to bake him a pie.

  What I knew for sure was this wasn’t it. Not that it mattered. That fist on my heart squeezed with soft affection when Frankie turned around and lifted her arms out to her sides.

  Pure pride as she offered me all the pink.

  “You likes it? My daddy let me helps him paint all the walls, and he took me to the store and let me picks my blankies and my drawers and ever’fing! Did you knows I been painting, and I’m gonna be a painter? My grammy says so.”

  My gaze traced the walls. Walls that were pink. More than pink. Wisped with the hints of fairy tales and happily ever afters, the faintest outlines of rainbows and unicorns and princesses lost in the strokes of color.

  Delicately.

  Carefully.

  Beautifully.

  At the bottom of one wall was a mess of color, choppy strokes and splotches so clearly added by a tiny hand.

  Oh my God. Who was this man?

  Frankie dropped to her knees in front of a bookcase and pulled free a thin, worn book, waving it in the air. “This one’s my favorite.”

  “Stellaluna?” I asked, a small smile ticking up at the corner of my mouth when I saw the adorable bat on the cover, the story totally unfamiliar.

  “Uh-huh.”

  She scrambled onto her bed. “You reads it.”

  I knelt by the edge of her bed. “Okay.”

  I opened it and began to read, that lump in my throat growing as I read each page. There was something about the way Frankie listened, quieted and subdued, glued to the words that tumbled from my tongue as I read about a baby bat that’d lost its mother and was raised by a mother bird, only to be reunited with its mother at the end, remaining friends with the birds who’d welcomed it to their nest.

  Why did I feel like I might cry when I finished the last page? It was a happy ending, after all. But it was still there, heavy in the air when I looked back at Frankie. She had her sheet pulled up to her chin and was clutching the material. “Did you know I lost my mommy, too?”

  She whispered it like a secret.

  Like trust.

  I guessed that was what I’d come seeking, but I was wholly unprepared for this kind of offering. My hand was trembling when I reached out and lovingly ran my knuckles down the side of her face. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I lost my mommy when I was little, too.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her voice dippe
d even lower. “Did you finds her?”

  “No. I tried to, but I don’t think she wanted to be found. But guess what? My grandma loved me so, so much, and she took such good care of me so I didn’t have to be sad.”

  She smiled the sweetest smile, and that fist on my heart squeezed. Squeezed and squeezed so hard it made it difficult to breathe. “My daddy takes good care of me and loves me so, so much.”

  “He seems like a good daddy.”

  Vigorously, she nodded.

  Leaning forward, I set a soft kiss on her forehead, knowing I had to get out of there before I lost myself any further. “I better go. Five minutes are up, and you need to get to sleep.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, staring up at me, our noses two inches apart.

  I smiled, getting drawn deeper into the heart of this little girl before I forced myself to stand. My footsteps slowed as I walked across her room. I flipped off the light and went to pull her door closed, but at the last second, I left it open a crack. Almost instinctively.

  Quietly, I edged down the hall, slowed by the turbulent silence bound to the atmosphere.

  I pressed my hands to my tremoring belly when I saw Rex standing in the middle of the kitchen. The expression he wore promised he’d overheard the conversation Frankie and I had shared.

  Broken, splintered fury.

  It poured from him in a torrent of agony.

  “I’ll just go,” I mumbled.

  Dropping my head, I started for the door, unsure if I was cowering or if I was just staggered by what I’d unwittingly forced my way into. I felt like a fool. Naïve and reckless. Because I’d come seeking something I hadn’t understood.

  And I’d just stumbled into the awareness that their lives were pieced together precariously.

  Fragilely.

  A tender, loving, imperfect balance.

  It would only take one misstep to send everything toppling over.

  I reached for the latch when I felt the flurry of intensity slide up behind me, the tension suffocating, the movement stealing the air from the room.

  I spun around, my back plastered to the door as he approached.

  Coming closer and closer.

  He wasn’t touching me.