Page 33

Five weeks have passed since I became a single mom—of sorts—and things are finally getting into a routine. I didn’t know how the kids would react to me. And let’s be honest here, I was clueless about what I was doing. I still don’t know.

Grace has been easy. The girl stole my heart immediately and had no problem letting me in. From her blue eyes looking into my soul with so much hope for a better life to the way her cornfield-blonde hair curled into ringlets that bounced with each step she took. She’s a genuine princess to the core, despite that she refuses to be called one, preferring to be known as Supergirl Grace, or Gigi for short. It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but when I first called her that, she couldn’t stop giggling. Even Teddy showed one of his rare smiles. She’s still so young, which helps me on so many levels. I try not to think about how she has no mama anymore, but I don’t think she remembers her much.

From the way Teddy speaks occasionally, even though Jennie died less than a year ago, I get the feeling she wasn’t around a ton. It makes my heart ache to know they were alone so much. They had their grandma, at least. She might have forgotten things, but at least she was around. That had to count for something.

For today, Grace is all about superheroes. But with the way I keep showing them new things every day, I’m sure my little superhero will change into something else by the end of the month. Heck, she was all about solving mysteries the first two weeks, and we watched nothing but Scooby-Doo.

It took some time, but she soon moved from clinging to her brother to me. Not sure what I did to deserve the love of the sweetest superhero ever, but I cherish each hug, each cuddle with my entire heart. It’s made for some difficult times when she refuses to be out of my arms, proving more than once she has abandonment issues. On nights that the cling monster comes out, we usually order in, as there’s no way I can cook with one hand. I’m not that talented yet. But I’m working on it.

I have no illusion that I can keep Teddy and Grace, but I willingly live in denial that the day won’t come soon.

Teddy has been harder to get to warm up to me. He’s a tough nut to crack, and I’m in no rush. He’s been through hell. Might weigh the size of a peanut, but he seems to carry everything on his shoulders. Or at least he tries to. He watches over his sister more times than not, and he’s started even watching over me. I can’t tell if it’s his concern for me or being wary of me.

Even without getting the dossier on him that Izzy sent over after the third day, there was sadness in his hazel eyes that no little boy should ever have. His hair matches his sister’s in color, but he likes to keep it short. In his words, he wants to see what’s coming at all times.

I will admit that I don’t have a ton of experience on how to handle trauma kids. Google searches have helped a bit, but mostly they’ve made me think I’ve been screwing it all up with what I’ve been doing. Apparently buying everything the little boy wants, or what I think he wants, is a bad thing. Well, too damn bad. The boy needs happiness, and I’m trying to give it to him, even if that means I have to buy a new Lego set every day. The kid is wicked smart and able to build anything I put in front of him.

The routine is simple for us. Kids wake up at the ass crack of dawn, pulling me out of bed to turn on cartoons. They enjoy a few snacks while watching silliness while I try to wake up after drinking a few cups of coffee. Then breakfast, followed by another cartoon or two, depending on the time. By ten, I usually have them outside. I have nothing really awesome in the backyard. The house is a fixer-upper, in and out. Most of the areas inside are decent enough, which is why we focus on the outside for an hour or two. I try to get them into planting flowers and mowing, which usually works for ten minutes, and then they’re off exploring the area, which isn’t that large but big enough for them based on the smiles they have. It’s great watching them play together.

By half past eleven, we head inside to wash up and eat lunch. Gigi goes down for a nap, and Teddy, who constantly says he’s too big for one, will look at one of his books before crashing out for at least an hour. I crash then, too, as the kids wear me out all the time. We typically fill the afternoons with Teddy building something. Gigi was off being a superhero that gave tea parties to all her stuffed animals. And yes, if I get Teddy a new Lego, Gigi gets a new stuffy. What can I say? I’ve already admitted I’m clueless. Who cares if the girl has about forty different stuffies already? If she spots another one, I know I’m going to buy it for her.

Dinner is early—well, for me anyhow. Before the kids showed, I usually worked on the house till well past eight before calling it quits, but I soon realized that one great asset the kids have is they love to sleep. Bedtime is at 7:30 p.m. for both, which is awesome, but makes dinner at six fun, especially since I have to wrap up my stuff at five. Who knew cooking for three took so much time?

I’d like to believe that once the kids go down, I live it up. That I’d focus on the house, get back on schedule to get things done in the timeframe I planned to sell the place in the next few months. But honestly? I usually spend way too much time googling how to cook something, or buying something new I think they would like. Even looking up ways to coax Teddy out of his shell a bit more. He’s said little unless he’s trying to protect his sister.

That first day was interesting. After our little coffee talk—always making sure I have one in hand to keep the smile on my face—we did breakfast, then went shopping. I asked them a million questions about what they liked, and they didn’t answer, so I just chose what I thought looked good. When I piled up the baskets full of clothes at the first store and bought everything without blinking, they soon realized that if they wanted something, it was theirs. I’m not loaded, but a few delayed installments in my renovation were worth the smiles from Gigi. I even got one out of Teddy when I found his love for Legos while we took a turn around the toy aisle. Books were in the basket already, but kids have to have toys. It’s a must.

I’m just cleaning up the cereal bowls as the kids finish the latest Scooby-Doo when I hear the grumble of bikes. Both kids notice as well and look at me in alarm. This isn’t the first time we’ve heard the noise of a motorcycle going by. A few times we went into town, one would pass. Both kids freaked at the sound. Gigi usually gets over it quickly with a distraction, but Teddy remembers enough to have nightmares about them.

That’s another routine we’ve gotten into. His nightmares are getting less frequent. Not nightly, like when he first showed up, but a few times a week. He wakes up screaming, and I run to his room asking what’s wrong. He never tells me, so I just hold him and tell him it’ll be okay. That’s the only time he lets me hold him. The boy might pretend he’s a man, but those nights, he needs a mama, and I’m always happy to oblige, for a little while at least. The only way for him to drift back to sleep is reading him The Cat in the Hat . I don’t argue if he wants it nightly, or repeated three times before he sleeps. It’s what he needs, and with all my Google searching, that’s one thing I learned: do what they need to feel safe.

A quick glance out the front window shows five motorcycles pulling in. My heart’s in my throat as I hear the pounding their engines made.

I smile at the kids, faking it so much my jaw aches. “Do me a favor and let me know who the shark ghost is. I’ll be back soon.”

Teddy does the cutest chin lift ever, saying he has my back without words.

Buddy boy, I got yours. Don’t you worry about it.

Opening the hall closet, I angle my back to the TV so the kids don’t see what I’m doing. I reach for the top shelf and pull down my Remington. Loading it quickly, I walk out the front door, pushing the screen door open with the barrel as I smile down at my guests, who parked in front of the porch.

“Good morning. Can I help you with anything?”

Not going to lie, I totally think I’m smug as shit when they all hesitate to get off their bikes.

Yeah, dumbasses, I ain’t letting you take my kids.

Wait, “my kids”?

Shit, I’m already claiming them. That’s one rule for being a foster parent: don’t get too attached.

Too late, looks like I already am.

My smugness dies as the biggest of the bunch—and probably the sexiest man I have ever seen in my life—slides off his seat, as graceful as water rolling off rocks, and stalks toward me.

My mouth’s drier than a dryer sheet and tastes fouler. The man has bulk from what I can see, and it’s all in a yummy way. His sunglasses are the type that cost more than a reasonable person should pay, but damn, do they look good on him. I only notice he has no helmet, like the rest of them, because I’m drawn to his hair more than I should be. I have no idea if it’s ’cause I’m turned on or just jealous as shit that his dirty-blond hair—emphasis more on dirty—is silky and has a wave to it as it drifts just past his shoulder blades. That and his full beard have me wondering if he’s more lion than anything. I mean, it’s a lot of hair in one area, like a mane. Is this guy some kind of king of the pack? He definitely has the alpha male thing going on. As well as the hunting prey part, especially since he doesn’t seem to stop or take his eyes off the house for a second, only halting when I cock the shotgun.

“Where are they?”

His growl sends a shiver over me. I hope he sees it as fear. I would rather him think I’m scared than the fact that his deep, husky voice has another effect on me.

“And who might that be?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, bitch. I know they’re here. I want to see my niece and nephew right goddamn now.”

Yeah, fuck the lust. This guy is definitely on my shit list. I can just scroll the internet and find a Thor lookalike to cure whatever draw I had for him for a second. The second before he spoke, that is.

“First off, don’t call me bitch. And second, I don’t know who you are or who your niece and nephew are.”

“Quit with the bull, honey. We know Teddy and Grace are here. If you know what’s best for you, you’ll let their uncle see them before we stop playing nice,” one of the other bikers still on his ride jumps in, speaking for the group.

I spare the guy a look, not foolish enough to take my eyes off the man before me for more than a second. He wears the same glasses. Big fucker too. But while the god before me has more hair than I do—which is a fuck-ton—this one has his hair slicked back to show a widow’s peak. Just enough ’stache and beard on him to be more than noticeable but less than using some special gels to maintain.

“Nice? Pretty sure I’m the one with the gun. Now tell me who the hell you are.”

“Think that will stop him?” From my periphery, I see his head bob to the beast man before me, the one claiming to be the kids’ uncle. “Don’t think you want to try it.”

I should stand my ground, but against my will, my eyes travel up and down the man who hasn’t backed down. His fists are tight at his sides. Wonder if he’s contemplating using them against me. I might have the gun—well, the only one with it out, anyway. I’m not an idiot. These boys are packing. But despite my show—for really, it's all show, because I can only get off one round, two if rushed—we all know they can overtake me.

“Doesn’t matter,” the beast growls in response to my question about who he is.

Is he seriously playing this stupid game with me over what his name is? I might be one against half a dozen, but I will shoot first.

From the clench in his jaw, he must realize I’m not backing down without knowing some idea of who he is.

“Chains.”

I barely control my eye roll. “Legal name, dumbass.”

“What the fuck did you say to me?” He takes a step forward, hands clenched even tighter, and the men get off their bikes as if in a dance sequence.

I don't hesitate. Pulling the trigger, I fire into the dirt at his feet. He pauses and glares up at me as I cock my shotgun again and aim it at his center mass. “Damn right, I want a legal name. Only two people know who I have inside, me and my friend, and you don’t have tits. Now stop acting like a pussy and prove to me you’re their uncle. We’ll start off slow. Your name, asshole. What is it?”

Through clenched teeth, he snarls, “James Randall.”

“And what was your sister’s middle name?”

“Are you kidding me with this shit?”

I don’t hide my sarcasm. “Does it look like I’m kidding you?”

“Fine. It was Janet.”

“No, that was what was on paper. What did the family call her?”

Taking off his sunglasses, he tilts his head to the side as he pauses and looks me over slowly. “You knew Jennie?” His voice changes tone for a moment.

“The name.” I hold firm. I’m not about to show I’m anything but badass, but come on. The guy did that slow look up and down on a girl. I’m practically a puddle of goo on the ground from that look. Especially from the intensity that his light brown eyes have right now. So light they’re almost yellow. Not yellow like the sun, more like a metallic gold, ones I would have no problem looking at for a very long time.

If things were different, of course.

“Dammit. We called her Dammit Janet.”

A twitch of a smile touches my lips. “She hated that movie.”

“Who didn’t?” He doesn’t smile, but the intensity isn’t rolling off him as much. I almost feel like I can breathe, as his anger had been choking me even with him off the front steps.

“We done?” His eyebrow quirks up. It’s a neat trick, one I’ve always wished I possessed.

“One more. What was her favorite ice cream?”

He shakes his head before he even speaks. “Trick question. She didn’t have one.”

“Not as kids, but she did. What was it? If you are who you claim you are, then you know this.”

I watch as his eyes draw together before he looks down and then back at his friends, who just shrug. I’m not trying to trick him, but I need to know if he’s legit. Jennie may have been a lot of things, but getting tied to trouble was her well-known trait. And from what Izzy showed me of how she died, and what we knew of her activities prior to death, the kids weren’t safe. That’s why they’re with me. The people she associated with were known for many things, but none for being a loving parent. More like stealing kids from loving parents.

“Vanilla.” He pauses, and I almost pull the trigger on him before turning it on his friends. “Two scoops of vanilla that she topped with a can of Diet Coke and five cherries on the stem and called a cherry float. Tasted like shit.”

“Don’t knock it. We trademarked it when we invented it.”

His eyes widen when he realizes who I am. I never met him, but Jennie and I were pretty close for a while. There was no doubt he would have heard about me and I him. I doubt he got my name, but that ice cream shit was something we created during a semester of community college finals when we were tired but needed the sugar to keep us up.

“Great. Now that we did that song and dance, let me see my family.”

“Not so fast, dumbass. I might agree you are who you say you are, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you see my kids.”

“They aren’t yours, bi—” My head twitch has him changing his word. “—woman. They’re mine. Jennie always wanted her kids to be with family. With Gran dead, that leaves me. So get out of the way.”

“Again, not going to happen. And before you piss and moan any more, I’ll tell you why. First off, Jennie didn’t leave a will.”

“What?”

“Exactly, which means they belong to the state. Also, no way in hell will the state give custody of her kids, family or not, to a felon who just got out of jail. How long have you been out, anyway? Like a week or something?”

“Try three hours.”

My brows fly up my forehead. “You got out today? Are you fucking insane?”

“No, just want my family. You get it? Mine . Not yours. Don’t think I didn’t hear you claim them. They ain’t yours, so get that out of your head. They belong with me and are coming with me.”

Oh my God, I can’t even believe this guy. He’s a one-track-mind asshole. Did he even think this through? He’s right that they aren’t mine, but I’m not about to let someone, even if they are family, just take them from me without knowing they’re safe. I wasn’t instantly a queen at this whole parenting thing, but even I know the basics that are needed with kids. Does he? Ten to one, he has no fucking clue.

My anger at the audacity of this guy has me venting more than I probably should about the personality traits I’ve learned from the last few weeks of being Teddy and Grace’s sole provider.

“Sure, and where will they stay, huh? You got a place? Or do you live with these guys? You got somewhere for them to sleep? ’Cause Grace and Teddy can’t sleep in the same room. And Grace needs to have lullaby music to fall asleep to that you have to reset twice for her to stay asleep. Teddy, he might not need music, but he does need a night-light. And when he comes in your room at night, ’cause it will happen with the nightmares, you better not have anyone with you. The last thing that six-year-old boy needs is to see you finally getting your dick sucked by, I’m sure, the willing groupies you have around your place.”

With the way his cheeks hollow, he must be biting them to keep from screaming at me, or just at his lack of planning. I know I won the bet. Wish I’d put money on it; could have used the extra cash. Seriously, did the guy really think he was just going to roll out of here with them?

“Besides, how the fuck are they supposed to come with you? Do you have car seats that strap to the backs of those bikes of yours?”

Breathing deep, I lower the gun, not putting it down completely. I’m not that stupid. But I have to see it from his side. They’re his family, but he needs to know it all. Well, not all, but a little more, at least till I trust him completely.

“Besides, motorcycles terrify the kids.”

“What the fuck?” This comes from the biker who spoke earlier.

I nod to the group, taking my time to look them over. They’re in various leather, clean enough but definitely falling under the scruffy definition compared to clean-cut. “I don’t know why. We’ve seen some in town. The noise bugs the shit out of them, but I usually can get them settled after a bit. But seeing one, that really sets them off. Grace ends up clinging to me like a monkey for hours, if not days. And Teddy shuts down completely, and his nightmares are the worst.” I shake my head and feel the pangs of sadness just thinking about the night I’m sure Teddy will have after this. “If you care for them, which I’m sure you do if you came here before thinking twice about getting laid first, like most people do after they get out of prison, then think this through. They don’t know you—I mean, not really. You’re a name, nothing more right now. Teddy recalls you from what Jennie has told him. Grace, well, she has a picture of you as a kid, but that’s about it. Their lives have been shitty lately. I’m not saying I’m making it all sunshine and rainbows, but at least with me, they can count on someone who will have their back.”

“I’ll have their back.” His growl is back again, but his glare isn’t half as intense as the first time.

“I’m sure you will, just not right now. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m just saying think it through.”

“She’s right, man,” the other one mutters.

Chains runs his hand through his hair. Why is that such a turn-on? “Shit. They’re the only family I got left.” I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. I’ve known that type of exhaustion. The kind that eats at your soul, making you feel helpless but knowing you have to keep fighting even if it’s taking more strength than you ever knew you had.

“And you are the only one they have left.” Fuck, I need to compromise on this. Not for me but for them. “Look, how about we plan for a dinner in a week? You come back in a truck or something, spend some time getting to know them. We do that for a few months and see where it leads.”

He takes a moment to look at the ground before he raises his head and puts his sunglasses back on. Nodding once to me, he walks back to his bike, sliding his leg over it smoothly.

Wow, okay, didn’t expect him to agree so easily. Guess this guy can see sense after all. Just have to break it down for the big ox.

“I’ll be back tonight.”

He starts his engine just as I take a step off the porch. “Wait, what? Tonight? No, a week or something. Give them time.” Panic is setting in. I need time to prepare for this guy at my house. I know my body is sending me all the signals that it wouldn’t take much for me to hump his leg. He’s pretty with a capital P . I want him, and my body is saying it’s craving him in such a short time of knowing him. But my head—thank God—knows it’s beyond bad. I need more time in my head to get my body under control before I spend any length of time with this guy.

Even with his sunglasses on, I can feel his eyes lock with mine. “Tonight.”

As the group peels out of the drive, I really hope someone heard me scream that we eat at six. Otherwise, the guy’s going to be extremely disappointed if he shows up after eight and we’re all in bed.