“As well as can be expected, I guess.”
Or maybe worse than could be expected. I didn’t fucking know.
God knew that it still ate me alive.
A beat of silence hovered in the atmosphere, that same sadness that was always there, lurking in the background, before Frankie broke it. She came bursting back into the living room with her backpack bouncing on her shoulders, a poster board in one hand and her doll clutched to her chest with the other.
“Look it, Daddy.”
Proudly, Frankie lifted her painting that was nothing but thick swashes of color.
“That’s beautiful, Sweet Pea.”
“What are we gonna do today?” she dove right in. “You wants to go swimming?”
I swung her into my arms. “Is that what you want to do? Go to the lake?”
She grinned that grin. The one that knocked all the foolishness free and the sense back into me. My heart heavy and full.
Devoted.
“Yes!”
I ruffled a hand through her rebellious hair. “Then, it sounds like we’re going to the lake.”
My headlights cut through the emerging night.
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 at 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.”