“Right now? Yes.” She laughs. “Please lie to me. Tell me I’ll know what to do. Tell me that I’m going to have all the answers and can find a place for us to live and a car and a job and health insurance …”
Her breathing takes a quick leap, her chest rising and falling like she’s running a mile.
“I’m fucked. I’m so fucked,” she says, teetering on a wail.
Her panic drives my panic. I watch her slowly unravel in front of me, and I don’t know how to stop it. I just know I have to try.
Without thinking, I stand and then squat down next to her. I wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders and pull her gently into me.
She stiffens for the briefest of seconds before letting her head rest against my shoulder.
A lump settles in my throat, and I’m not sure why.
I’m not sure what to do or say, nor do I know what happens next. What I do know is that I put myself into this situation, I’m not mad about it, and I just have to figure out how to help.
“Wade would say to start at the top,” I whisper to her, wrapping my other arm around her too.
I close my eyes and try to stay focused on helping her and not the way she melts into my body. I fight the urge to breathe in her raspberry scent and stroke the small of her back. Instead, I just try to show her that she’s not alone.
“We handled Libby’s stuff,” I say. “The next thing is getting your sister’s daughter and dealing with the paperwork. Right now, you have a place to stay. Let’s just get through the day, okay?”
“I’m so sorry for bringing you into this,” she says against my shoulder.
“It’s not really how I saw my weekend going and not what I meant when I chose spontaneity on the online quiz that I took last week.” I grin against the top of her head. “But maybe it’ll be fun.”
She pulls back. The separation feels like pulling a magnet away from another, and I’m not sure how one woman can make me feel so many different things.
I’m not sure I like it either.
“You are probably the nicest person I’ve ever met,” she says, running a finger under her left eye.
“I’ll be sure to tell my brothers you think so.”
She grins.
Her mouth opens to speak again when the door squeaks. Our attention snaps to the doorway as Shera walks in. She steps to the side, and a little girl peeks around her legs.
Jaxi moves to the edge of her chairs, and I sit back in mine. We take in the wide-eyed, freckle-faced, wild-haired little girl clutching a glow worm in her arms.
Shera squats down. “Rosie, I’d like you to meet someone.”
Rosie bites her bottom lip and squeezes the Glo Worm even tighter. “You are Auntie Jaxi.”
Jaxi’s face wrinkles as she fights back a blast of emotions. “I am, sweetheart.”
“Do you know your Auntie Jaxi?” Shera asks.
Rosie shakes her head. “No. But my mommy keeps a picture of her by her bed. I know you like Easy Bake Ovens too. And had a dog named Piper. He was silly.”
Jaxi brings her hands to her face and covers her nose and mouth. Her lashes dampen as she nods her head.
Rosie turns to me. “My mommy didn’t have pictures of you.”
“No, because I didn’t know your mommy,” I say carefully.
What do I do? Do I ask her about her mom? Do I say something nice? Do I pretend to have known something about her to make her like me?
Rosie slowly, still clutching her Glo Worm, makes her way toward me. She stops a few feet away.
Her little chubby hand reaches out, and she touches the face of my watch with a short finger. Then she looks at me and smiles.
“My mommy would be your friend,” she says.
“Do you think so?” I ask.
She nods, her lips pursing together like she’s going to blow a bubble.
“Do you know how old I am?” Rosie asks me.
I pretend to think about it. “Sixteen?”
She laughs. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she shakes from the force of her laughter.
“No, silly!” she exclaims.
“Twenty?”
“No!” She laughs again. “I’m four.” She holds up four fingers.
“Four is a good number,” I say.
She nods her head happily. “I’ve waited my whole life to be four.”
I laugh too. “I’m happy you made it here.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. Rosie seems not to bridge the concept of making it to four and the current situation.
Shera stands. “You’ll be going home with your auntie Jaxi and Boone today, Rosie. Is that all right with you?”
Rosie looks over her shoulder and nods.
Shera smiles at her and then looks back at Jaxi. “I have a couple of boxes of her things that you can take with you. There isn’t much.” She lifts her chin. “Jeanette was living with a boyfriend—”
“Kurt,” Rosie chimes in. She takes my wrist in her hands and brings it to her face. She studies the watch as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. It’s ridiculously adorable the way her nose curls up like a rabbit and her forehead wrinkles like an old scientist studying his data.
“That’s right. Kurt,” Shera says. “I can give you his information if you want to inquire about anything else that would’ve been Jeanette’s. From what I’m told, however, what we were given is all Mr. Oberrio says is hers.”
Jaxi stands. “It’s fine. Um, do we know the father—who’s the father …” She glances down at Rosie, who is twisting my hand back and forth, inspecting my watch.
Shera glances down too. “We do. I can give you his information. He’s incarcerated in New York State and has relinquished all rights. After reviewing his file, I think that might’ve been one of the only good things he’s ever done.”
“Great,” Jaxi mumbles. “Do I need to sign anything?”
“You do. We can do that on your way out.” Shera crouches again. “Do you have any questions for us, Rosie?”
The little girl looks up at Jaxi. “Can I still go to school next year? I’ll be five.”
“Of course you can.”
Rosie drops my wrist and turns to her aunt. She wiggles her finger as if beckoning Jaxi to come to her.
Jaxi squats down so they’re eye to eye.
Their similarities are obvious. They have the same color hair, although Rosie’s is a bit lighter. Their eyelashes are insanely dark and long, and Rosie has the same widow’s peak as her aunt. It’s wild.
Rosie grins. “I know my mommy had to go see Piper. Piper missed her a whole lot.”
Jaxi blinks quickly. “I’m sure she did, sweetheart.”
“Me too. I miss my mommy already.” She hugs her Glo Worm to her chest. “But I’m glad Mommy picked you for me to stay with.”
“Me too.”
Rosie steps closer to her. “Your eyes look just like hers.” She touches the side of Jaxi’s face. “Will you hold still for a minute?”
I look at Shera. She’s holding a hand to her chest, and I understand why. There’s a knot that’s formed right in the center of my pecs too.
I keep imagining this being Coy’s little boy someday. I’m not sure how that would feel, but I know I’d be fucked up.
Is it easier that she didn’t know Jeanette? Or harder? How is she keeping it all together like this?
Rosie’s hand drops. “We’re going to have fun, aren’t we?”
“We definitely are,” Jaxi tells her.
“Good.”
She lunges toward Jaxi and wraps her arms around her neck. The force knocks Jaxi off balance, and she nearly tumbles backward.
Jaxi’s eyes raise to mine over Rosie’s head. She squeezes her niece as tight as Rosie was holding the Glo Worm, and even though I’m not involved in the group hug, I feel like I am.
“Thank you,” Jaxi mouths to me.
I wink at her.
“I have another appointment I need to get to,” She
ra says. “My office will be getting with you in the coming days about some procedural things. But if you could sign a few things for me, I would appreciate it. Then you can go.”
Jaxi pulls away from Rosie. “I have to sign some papers, okay?”
Rosie nods.
Jaxi stands and heads to the desk. Rosie, though, turns to me. While the two women go over the paperwork, Rosie sets her sights on my watch.
“Are you like Kurt?” she asks as she follows the secondhand with her finger.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine him being as cool as me.”
She doesn’t get the joke. She’s four, Boone.
“Kurt yelled a lot,” she says slowly. “We weren’t friends.”
My jaw clenches as I imagine a grown man yelling at this sweet little girl. “Guess what? Kurt and me aren’t friends either.”
“Really?”
“Facts.”
“Oh.” She drags her finger down the watch and over the top of my hand. “Me and my mommy were going to have to move because Kurt was always mad at us. But I liked our house. But it wasn’t ours. It was Kurt’s. And Kurt got to tell us to leave.”
The knot in my chest cracks into two pieces as I watch Rosie try to understand the things she’s lived through. I wonder what all she’s seen and heard but don’t dare ask.
“I think you’ll like my house,” I tell her. “I have a pool with a slide.”
Her eyes light up. “You do?”
“I do.”
“Are you ready?” Jaxi asks from across the room.
“And do you have a puppy?” Rosie asks.
I laugh as I stand. “No. Sorry. No puppies.”
“That stinks. I was hoping you’d have a puppy.”
She presses her lips together again and blinks her eyes at me. I wonder if it’s normal to feel guilted by a four-year-old that I just met.
“Maybe someday,” I offer. “But I definitely can get you cake for dinner. Do you like cake?”
She takes my hand. “I love cake.”
I look up at Jaxi and shrug. Her face breaks out into the best smile I’ve seen from her today and that, despite all of today’s shitstorm, feels really damn good.
I have no idea what just happened or what’s about to come. All I know is that I have to take it one step at a time.
Even if it’s the small steps of a four-year-old.
Twelve
Jaxi
I stand at the window and watch Boone and Rosie at the pool. He bends down at the edge and pretends to point to something. Rosie bends down, too, to see what he’s showing her. Before she knows what’s happening, he splashes her with a handful of water.
She stands, her face dripping with water, and laughs so hard I think she might fall face forward into the pool.
Penelope Rose Woods, the name I learned was hers from her birth certificate, reminds me so much of her mother. Her calm, assessing demeanor is Nettie all over again. Her fearlessness too. What child doesn’t seem terrified to be staying with two people she’s never met?
Nettie’s child. That’s who.
I’m still floored at how she read both Boone and me. It’s the only word I can use to explain it. Touching Boone’s watch and then determining that he would have been friend with Nettie was one thing. But then touching my face, staring into my eyes … There was no fear there. It was as if she just saw me and knew we’d be fine.
“We’re going to have fun, aren’t we?”
More tears spring to my eyes. I’m not generally a crier, but I just don’t know how to process this.
I look up. I will take care of her, Nettie. I swear.
I spin around and plop myself on the sofa. Boone told me to take a minute to myself, and I’m forever grateful for the small gift.
My head begins to pound. It’s as though it was lingering all day and just waiting for a moment of quiet so it could really be felt.
I massage my temples as I try to get myself together. Before I can get a thought out, my phone buzzes.
Caroline Kapowski: I wanted to let you know that we really are sorry to hear about your sister and wish you all the luck in the world with your niece. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I know we never got the opportunity to meet, but my in-laws adore you, and I know we would too.
My shoulders sag.
As if this day hadn’t been horrible enough, I had to call Caroline and tell her what happened to Nettie. She was so kind about it that I couldn’t speak. I was grateful Boone had taken Rosie outside for some fresh air so I could deal with telling Caroline.
Me: Thank you. I appreciate that more than I could tell you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for us.
I set the phone down and stare at my words. Am I sorry things didn’t work out for me and the Kapowskis?
“No pineapple drinks,” I say, leaning back against the cushions. “No beaches and no hikes through the rain forest.”
I close my eyes and try to center myself.
Images of Hawaii and the things I’d hoped to do there—the sense of the fresh start I was hoping to make, come fluttering back to me. The squeal of Rosie outside the windows breaks through them.
Just looking in her little eyes today struck a chord in me. I could see my childhood in the hazel-colored irises. I was reminded of Jeanette and my mother. It brought back the way our house smelled like roast beef and how the blankets on my bed were itchy. All of the things I’d mostly forgotten.
I might not have known that Rosie existed before today but having her in my life changed it—is changing it. She’s a connection to my past that I didn’t know I could have.
That I didn’t know I needed.
I stand just as they come in through the kitchen door from the backyard. Rosie’s cheeks are flushed, and a big smile splits them.
Boone laughs. “This one is a handful.”
“I am not! I only want a puppy!” She juts her bottom lip way out. “A black and white one with big, floppy ears.”
Boone makes a face at her. “Puppies poop in the yard. That’s gross.”
“Not if you clean it up.”
“You clearly don’t know me,” Boone says, chuckling. “Anyway, puppies are Jaxi’s territory. She gets to make all of those hard decisions.”
I snort. “Gee, thanks.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says.
Rosie looks around the room. “I have to potty.”
“The bathroom is down the hallway,” I tell her. “Come on and I’ll show you.”
She reaches for my hand as I approach, and I give it to her. Her round little cheeks ball up with a grin.
“You know what?” she says as we walk down the hallway.
“What?”
“I’m hungry too.”
“Okay. We can get something. Is there anything you like best? Or don’t like?” I flip on the bathroom light. “Anything you want specifically?”
She walks into the bathroom and turns around. “I pacifically want cake with Boone. Chocolate, ’kay?”
I grin at her. “Okay. Do you need help?”
“Nope.” She starts unbuttoning her pants. “Mommy said I’m a big girl now and can do it myself.”
I look around the room and spy a wooden crate for holding magazines. I pick it up. It’s empty.
Turning it upside down next to the toilet, I give it a shake. It’s sturdy.
“Can you use this as a step stool?” I ask. “Or do you want me to put you up there?”
“I can do it.” She gives me a look like a warning.
It’s very Nettie.
I grin. “Okay, Little Miss. I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
I close the door. Boone is still standing in the foyer. I shake my finger at him.
“Did you tell her we’d have cake for dinner?” I ask.
“I’m just trying to make friends here.”
“Well, I think you did.”
I stop in front of him. He looks down at me, pinning me in pl
ace with his bright, mischievous eyes.
There is so much I want to say to him, but I don’t know where to start. I’m afraid if I open my mouth to say anything at all, my voice will crack.
He’s so handsome with his unshaven face and heart of gold. It would be amazing to be standing here with him if I wasn’t such a mess.
“Stop it,” he hisses playfully. “You’re overthinking everything. Again.”
“How do you know?”
He grins. “Because you’re awake, for one.”
I laugh.
“And, for two, the lines between your eyes form when you’re thinking,” he says. “Like that.” He points at my forehead. “See?”
I can feel it. It’s true.
“I just don’t fly by the seat of my pants very well,” I admit. “And I know you’re doing me a tremendous favor here, but I just need to know how long you’re thinking. I don’t want to overstay our welcome, but I need some time to figure out where to go—”
“You are going to faint one day when you do this, and I’m going to humiliate you when it happens. I’ll call the ambulance and say, ‘Come get this chick. She wouldn’t stop talking and just gassed herself out.’”
I hit him in the chest. Instinctively, he grabs my wrists. We stand there, his hand clasped over mine, and look at each other.
“You want a time limit?” he asks softly. “Six months. If we haven’t revisited all of this in six months, let’s do it then.”
I raise my brows. “Six months?”
He releases my wrist. “I don’t know what’s happening either. It’s not like I woke up this morning and thought, ‘Man, I’d like to have Jaxi and a child I don’t know come live with me.’”
“I—”
He presses a finger to my lips, quieting me.
“But,” he says, looking me straight in the eyes, “I think it could be fun. The kid loves me. Loves me. And you? Well, you’re not bad to look at either. If I have to wake up every morning to you hanging out around the house, I could suffer through that.”
My cheeks heat.
“So does six months work for you?” he asks. “Because I’d really like to put this all to bed.”
My gaze skims over his chest and up his muscled shoulders, across his jawline, and to his eyes.
Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) Page 10
