Harder (Caroline & West #2)(50)

“She didn’t tell me about Clint.”

“She’s ten,” Caroline says. “That’s old enough for secrets. But I met your mom, and I saw where you grew up. I’ve talked to your sister. I’ve seen her with you. You’re her father, whether you like it or not. You’ve been her father since the day your mom brought her home from the hospital. Look at her.”

I look.

I look for what feels like an hour.

I can’t tell Caroline she’s wrong.

I don’t know what Frankie’s writing about, but I know the way she nibbles on her lip when she’s got a pen in her hand. She gnaws the skin off that lip, and when it’s cold and dry out it cracks sometimes and bleeds, and I’ve got to get after her to put Carmex on it so it’ll heal.

I’d give my life for her without hesitating. Anytime. Any day. Under any circumstances.

That’s how it is, and Caroline’s right that it doesn’t matter what some piece of paper says. Me and my sister belong to each other deeper than words on paper, deeper than I can find the words to say out loud.

She’s my kid.

I guess that means I’m her father.

What a f*cking terrifying thought.

“I don’t know what to do for her,” I say.

“So you learn.”

“I don’t know how to start.”

“Quit being such a baby. Read a parenting book. Read twenty, if it makes you feel better.”

“It’s not just parenting, though, it’s this stuff.” I gesture at the playground. “Enrichment. Art classes. It never crossed my mind to worry about that.”

“That’s what Jeff’s for.”

“No, that’s my point. I’m saying, we’re living here like we lived in Silt. We’re surviving, because that’s all I know how to do. Jeff hears about Clint and the bus and the sick shit that kid said to my sister, and he doesn’t think about punching someone. He tells me, Yeah, that’s terrible, but we’re gonna handle it. What I’m worried about is how we can make your sister’s life richer. Richer! What the f*cking f*ck?”

She’s frowning at me.

“Richer,” I say again, dropping the word like a hammer. “Fuller. More beautiful. That’s not surviving, it’s something else. It’s thriving. I don’t know how to do that.”

Caroline butts her head into my chest, hard.

Then she does it again.

“What’d I say?”

“West.” She slams her head into me a third time. Rolls her forehead back and forth. “You drive me crazy.”

“What?”

“You don’t know how to do it for your sister because you don’t know how to do it for yourself, okay? But if you’d just f*cking listen to me sometimes, and if you’d just let me in, you might start to figure it out.”

I’m as shocked as if she’d smacked me—still reeling from her words—when she lifts her face to mine, rises to her toes, and kisses me.

Really kisses me, with tongue and teeth, her hands on my head, body pressing into mine.

I don’t even think about resisting. I take her ass in both hands and pull her tight against me, kiss her back, one kiss after another, soft and then hard, a deep stroke of my tongue, scared and confused and glad she’s here, because I know what richer and fuller and more beautiful mean, but only when I’m with Caroline.

She breaks away and kisses my chin, my jaw, my cheek, and my temple. “You’re going to figure it out,” she whispers. “Trust me on this one.”

I can’t trust myself, but I can trust her. “I’ll try.”

She hugs me tight, tucks her head against my neck, and says, “You f*cking better.”

I look down at the top of her head, and then I look at my sister again in the car, miles away, thinking whatever it is she’s thinking about.

In between us is Caroline.


Her house is a couple blocks from campus, a big old cedar-shingled place that’s impressive from a distance but looks shabby close up. I park in the alley in the back. Krishna lets me into the kitchen. It smells like onions and garlic—warm cooking scents. Bridget and Caroline are at a little table tucked into the corner of the room.

“Where’s Frankie?” Caroline asks.

“I left her with Laurie and Rikki.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she just got a better offer. They’re doing some kind of art-film double feature with popcorn and Junior Mints. She seemed excited, so I said go for it.”

I want to is what Frankie actually told me. I couldn’t say no to that, especially not when it meant a night off for me and a chance to see if I can remember what it’s like to have friends.

I’m holding a case of beer and a foot-long sausage. I stopped at the Kum and Go on the way here. “Happy birthday,” I say to Krishna. “Legal at last. Must be a thrill.”

“Oh, it is. I almost creamed myself when I woke up this morning and realized I could finally drink with the big kids.”

“I’ll bet.”

“That’s some present,” he says. “You must’ve killed yourself trying to figure out what to get me.”

“I was gonna get you 101 Unsolved Math Problems, but they were all out at the gas station.”