Shock had her mouth dropping open. “There’s no such thing as too much Grammy times, Daddy. Don’t you knows that?”
I laughed again, almost deciding to ignore the door, but then Frankie hopped off the bed. She wrapped both her tiny hands around one of my wrists, yanking with all her might. Of course, the only nudge she gave was the one that shot through my heart. “Come on, Daddy. There’s someone ats the door. We gots to see who it is.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, relenting, hating the way my nerves buzzed through my body when I did. The way those defenses wanted to go up.
All the while, I was wishing there was a way I could throw rescue ropes over the side.
That I could climb out of the bullshit mess I’d made of my life and jump into one where taking a girl like Rynna Dayne would be okay.
With Frankie’s hand wrapped around my index finger, I stumbled along behind her. The kid was far too chipper as she bee-lined for the door. Maybe I had overreacted.
She popped up on her toes to peer out the side window and out on to the porch. She huffed when she dropped back onto her heels. “I finks we were too late. Nobody’s there.” I set a hand on her shoulder, guiding her behind me, that kick of protectiveness always at the ready to take hold. I twisted the lock so I could open the door and peer outside.
She was right.
No one was there.
But someone had been.
To my right, someone had left a tray on the short wooden table between the two rocking chairs. I’d made them what seemed a million years ago, back when I’d been nothing but a fool. We’d just been moving into this place, and I’d been thinking maybe I’d finally outrun that shadow.
The scar that forever eclipsed the true joy of my life.
I should’ve known better.
A large lidded bowl rested on the tray, and a tented card was propped to the side of it.
Squealing, Frankie flew out from behind me. “Oh, look it, Daddy. It gots my name on it. It is a present for me.”
My gaze darted across the street. The old house sat silent and unmoving, just the branches of the big trees that fronted her yard waving their welcome.
Emotion slammed me. Unstoppable. Too much. Overwhelming.
Pushing out a sigh, I forced myself to walk all the way out.
My senses were punched again when I reached down and grabbed the handles of the tray. Only this time, it was the amazing aroma that lifted from the bowl, striking me like comfort and warmth.
Comfort and warmth that was intended for my daughter.
Thoughtful in a way I couldn’t allow the woman to be.
My sweet girl trotted along beside me while I carried the offering inside and set in on the small dining table.
“What’s it, Daddy?”
She peered up at me with that trusting grin, her fingers threaded together where she leaned against her elbows on the table to get a better look. She looked like she was already issuing up a prayer for the food she’d been given.
“Careful,” I warned, lifting the lid.
It was a chicken pot pie. The kind Corinne Dayne had been famous for.
Homemade.
Handmade.
The aroma of it so overpowering, my mouth watered.
My damned hand was shaking when I reached down and snatched the note. Frankie’s name was written across the front in the prettiest handwriting I’d ever seen.
I lifted the flap to find what was written inside.
Dear Frankie Leigh,
Remember when I told you I had some of the recipes to my grandma’s pies? I have a special secret just for you—I have the recipe for the pot pie she used to make me whenever I felt sick, too. It was always my favorite, and sometimes, I didn’t even mind getting sick, because I knew she would make it and soon everything would be better. I remember being a little girl, just like you, eating this same pie at our kitchen table right across the street. With every bite I took, I knew that my grandma had to love me more than the whole wide world.
Last night, I wished with all of me that I could have taken your sickness away. But maybe there’s a chance this pie might make you feel better the way it always did me. I sure hope so.
All my love,
Rynna
Damn her.
Damn her straight to hell for teasing me this way.
Damn her for weaseling her way in and making herself a place in a spot where she knew she would never stay.
Fuck me for wanting it.
“Read it to me! Oh, read it to me, Daddy! Wha’s it say?”
“It’s from Rynna next door,” I told her, trying to keep the thick emotion from clotting my voice. “She said her grandma used to make her this same pot pie when she wasn’t feeling well. She thought it might help you feel better, too, so she made you some.”
Those big brown eyes went wide with hope, and her voice dropped like it might be a secret. “Do you think it mights be as good as cherry pie?”
My attention darted to the sweet pie still sitting on the countertop. The pie I’d dipped my finger into the second I’d gotten a chance this afternoon. Because shit. That little taste of her outside this morning had not been close to being enough.
“How about we test it out? You get some of this food into your belly, and I’ll heat you up a small piece of cherry pie. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds like you’re the best daddy in the whole wide world . . . just like Rynna’s grammy.”
If only that were the truth.
13
Rynna
I stepped out of my grandmother’s diner and was smacked in the face by the Alabama heat. A sticky sheen of sweat slicked my skin, and my arm still burned from the exertion of scrubbing on at least thirty years of built-up lard and oils splattered on every surface in the old kitchen. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to work on what little could be salvaged inside. It at least gave me something to keep my hands busy while I waited for my appointment with the bank so I could officially put in my application for a loan.
It was painful waiting. Not knowing. Wondering if I was going to have what it took to bring this dusty diner back to life. If anyone would believe in me. If they’d give me a chance to make this old dream a reality.
After today, I was bone tired. But there was an eager hum that whirred through my blood. A satisfaction that had been lacking in all the years I’d been away. While in San Francisco, I’d attempted to convince myself a life outside of Gingham Lakes was what I wanted.
Some part of me had always known it’d been a lie.
I could almost hear my grandmother whispering in my ear, “Do what makes you happy, child. In my experience, joy is a choice. Life is rough. Don’t expect it not to be. But if we aren’t laughin’, we’re crying. Choose to laugh. Choose what brings you joy. And when you choose your path, it might not always be the easiest one, but it’ll always be the right one.”
I lifted my face to the blue sky, squeezed my eyes closed, and silently murmured, “I chose this path, Gramma. Even if it’s not the easiest one, I know it’s where my joy is waiting for me.”
My eyes opened, my gaze landing on the construction site across the street. It was deserted, work done for the day, but that didn’t stop my mind from wandering to Rex.
After I’d left his house yesterday morning, I’d gone home and crawled straight into bed. With being awake at the emergency room for most of the night, I’d anticipated I’d immediately fall asleep, but I’d tossed.
Exhausted but wired.
Drained but restored.
As if I’d been left spinning somewhere in limbo.
Lost in a blissful kind of purgatory where I’d stumbled upon a man with the skill to bring me to orgasm with a few mind-rending strokes of his body. But there had been so much pained remorse in his expression afterward that it’d sent me crashing to the ground.
No question, he’d needed to run to Frankie. It was exactly what he should do. His child should always be his first priority.
But
what hurt was it was clear his regret went so much deeper than the simple fact we’d let ourselves lose control where we’d been hidden by his massive truck. Deeper than the fact he needed to pull away to return to her.
And with Rex?
I felt out of control.
Spinning from a thread and barely hanging on.
He knocked the ground out from under my feet.
Shaking myself out of it, I pushed from the door and locked up before stepping out onto the sidewalk.
The scene in front of me made me wonder how I’d ever left this place. The old buildings built up on each side, massive shade trees grown up through the planters and shading the store fronts that still boasted some of the old shops my grandmother had gone to when she’d been my age.
You’d think the restoration in progress would have stolen from the charm.
It didn’t.
It only amplified.
The renovated buildings bore crisp new awnings and eaves, and the new brick structures climbed up between them to give the exact cohesive feel Lillith had been so proud of the day I’d first met her.
One day soon, Pepper’s Pies would be a part of this rebirth.
I inhaled a satisfied breath and started for my SUV, glancing down to fiddle with my key ring to grab the right one.
Then I smacked right into a firm body.
“Oh goodness, I’m sorry, excuse me,” I mumbled through my surprise.
Hands came out to steady me by the shoulders.
“Whoa, slow down.” The man chuckled, and my attention shot up. My eyes grew round, and my mouth went dry, my heart bottoming out in my stomach.
He smiled at me.
Confused by my reaction.
His head angled to the side, tone filled with an easy chuckle. “Tiny thing like you should slow down before you fall and mess up that pretty face.”
I took a staggering step backward. Still unable to say anything. Still unable to respond.
I couldn’t breathe, my heart locked in the center of my chest.
A rush of dizziness swept through my head, my balance lost.
He didn’t even recognize me.
The bastard didn’t even recognize me.
I pressed a hand over my mouth, trying to keep back the cry that clamored up my throat, just standing there, staring at him.
Unable to move.
Paralyzed.
Frozen by shock.
By fear.
By hatred.
“You okay, beautiful?” he asked as if he had the capacity to care.
I wished with all of me I had the strength to slap him across the face. Or maybe spit in it. Scream at him to go to hell, right where he belonged.
Instead, I stood there staring at him in terrified disbelief.
He started to reach for me, and I finally snapped out of my stupor. I frantically smacked his hand away as I stumbled back. Fighting tears, I broke away and rushed for my Cherokee. I fumbled with the key, hands shaking so badly I could barely get it into the lock. Another rush of dizziness swept through me, a violent storm, taking me under.
I could barely haul myself into the driver’s seat.
Nausea whirled.
I slammed the door and locked it, hands squeezing on the steering wheel. I fought the urge to shift my truck into drive, tuck tail, and run.
He was there.
He is here.
Bile climbed my throat when Aaron looked back over his shoulder at me. He shook his head as if I were insane then turned and continued down the sidewalk as if it meant nothing at all, as my mind was jerked back to the days I’d do anything to forget.
Rynna - Twelve Years Old
I grinned eagerly, excitement blazing through my nerves. I couldn’t believe I’d been invited.
Something about this felt special. As if things were finally gonna change. I hated being left out. Gramma said it was just because I was too shy, but I wasn’t so sure.
I threaded my fingers together and set them on my lap where I sat with my legs crisscrossed on Janel’s bedroom floor.
We’d made a circle.
The circle.
My eyes made a pass over the faces: Kimberly, Sarah, Ben, Kerry, Janel, and Aaron.
Aaron.
Butterflies stormed my belly and sweat slicked my palms.
Aaron.
I kept glancing at him, wishing I was sitting right next to him, but I was too nervous to make the move.
But at least I was there. That was all that mattered.
A dim light glowed from a bedside lamp, but otherwise, the lights were off.
Janel set the bottle in the middle of the circle.
Kerry giggled. “This game is so stupid.” But she was peeking at Ben when she said it, and I wondered if she was as nervous as I was. If everyone was.
Janel cleared her throat, and I thought no. Janel was never scared.
“Okay, these are the rules,” Janel said. “When you spin the bottle, whoever it lands on, you have to kiss them for three seconds.” Her voice dropped with the scandalous challenge. “On the lips.”
“Even if it’s a girl?” Kimberly asked.
Janel huffed. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“Ewww.” Sarah kicked her feet and violently shook her head.
“Stop being a baby,” Janel said, eyeing her hard. “You said you wanted to come, so you have to play by my rules.”
Janel was the leader. She’d always been. Me and Janel had known each other forever. Janel’s momma worked at the diner with my gramma, so we were together a lot. Of course, that didn’t mean I got invited to things like this.
Janel spun the bottle first. It landed on Sarah. Janel crawled over and kissed her on the lips. Everyone counted to three. Janel sat back. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Sarah pressed her hand over her mouth. “I don’t think I want to kiss anyone.”
Janel glanced at Kimberly with a roll of her eyes. “I told you she wasn’t cool enough.”
Janel set her gaze on me. “How about you?”
The nod of my head was emphatic, my nerves abuzz.
“Good. You’re next.”
Was it possible my belly could move all the way to my throat? Clumsily, I spun the bottle. It landed on Kimberly. I squeezed my eyes closed when I leaned across the circle and kissed her, a peck to the lips. It wasn’t so bad. But that wasn’t who I wanted to kiss.
And I felt so shaky, my heart fluttery and funny while we spun and spun, continually taking turns.
Aaron spun the bottle again. The bottle spun and wobbled until the top of the neck finally pointed at me. Those butterflies smacked their wings, my stomach wild.
Aaron started to lean across the circle. Janel set her arm out in front of him. “I think you two should do this in private. In the closet.”
My eyes grew wide. “But—”
“My house, my rules, remember?”
I climbed to my feet, suddenly feeling sweaty as I glanced down at my body then at Aaron’s when he reluctantly stood. Janel hopped to her feet. “This way.”
I followed her across her room to the closet. Janel opened the door. “Get in.”
It was dark inside, and for a second, I hesitated. Everything felt wrong and funny, the warnings my gramma had always given me about being smart and if something felt off, it probably was. To trust my gut.
I ignored it. I had finally been invited and I wasn’t going to mess this up. I stepped inside, waiting for Aaron to step in with me, but then Janel laughed so loud a shudder rolled through me just as the door slammed shut in my face.
Laughter roared from the other side. Panic welled. I jerked at the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Come on, Janel, it’s not funny. Let me out.”
More laughter. “Did you really think Aaron would want to kiss a fat cow? You’re so stupid, Rynna Dayne. Like he would ever like you. Like any of us would like you.”
Tears burned in my eyes. “Please.”
“Twenty minutes time out for the
cow,” Janel sing-songed. Their laughter rang through the thin door, and I sank to the floor of the closet, hugging my knees to my chest, wondering if I would ever stop feeling so alone.
14
Rex
“Open wide and say ah.”
From her spot on the edge of the exam table, Frankie did as she was told, opening her mouth so wide I didn’t know how he wasn’t looking at the inside of her stomach. She gurgled an elongated ahhhhh that was mixed with a giggle and did her best not to fall into a fit of laughter when Kale put a depressor against her tongue and shined a light on her throat.
“Oh, no.” If Kale weren’t acting a fool, exaggerating his worry, I would have been on him in a flash, demanding to know which of the bajillion horrible illnesses could be the actual culprit for her symptoms.
So yeah.
I’d tumbled down the rabbit hole of internet searches on my phone while I’d been watching her sleep her fever away this last weekend.
Apparently, Google was the number you were actually supposed to multiply your worry by.
Because that shit was scary.
But Kale was being Kale.
Tossing out teases at Frankie like they were candy.
Frankie’s eyes went wide. “What’s it, Uncle Kale?”
He dropped his voice to a secretive whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think there are monsters living in your throat.”
Frankie giggled harder and lifted her shoulders to her chubby cheeks. “Nu-uh. There no monsters livin’ in my throat.”
Kale huffed dramatically. “And how do you know that? I’m the doctor here.”
“My daddy told me there’s no such fing as monsters.”
“And your daddy is smarter than I am?” With the way Kale cut me an evil eye, I wondered how much of his offense was feigned.
“Course he’s smarter than you. He’s the smartest daddy in the whole, whole, whole wide world.” Her arms pumped up higher every time she repeated the word. She glanced over at me. “Right, Daddy?”
Fight for Me: The Complete Collection Page 11
