Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(125)

He barely finished that before Portia took his hand, tugged, and demanded, “Let’s go, Daddy.”

Brian gave Angelica a gutted look that had the effect of gutting me.

Then he let his daughter drag him up the walkway, Jethro trailing behind.

“You are not taking those kids from my house!” Angelica shrieked and made a move as if to follow them.

She got nowhere.

Brenda was in front of her.

“I swear by the great God Almighty, you stop that man, you’ll never see me again,” she threatened.

“Mom—” Angelica started on a whine.

“Shutyourmouth,” Brenda said so sharp and so fast, it was all one word. “Did you not notice the state of my granddaughter?”

“I’m going to help Brian,” Mom said softly, hustling up the walk.

Angelica did not answer her mother.

She turned to me before I could follow Mom, face twisted with rage.

It was so bad, Boone actually moved to get in front of me.

“This is all on you!” she screamed.

But Brenda turned her back around with a vicious wrench of her arm and pointed a finger in her face.

“It’s on you.” She dropped her hand. “By God, where did I go wrong with you?”

“I don’t know the big fucking deal,” Angelica snapped. “She’s just throwing a tantrum.”

“When your daughter wastes away to nearly nothing, Angelica, that is not just a tantrum,” Brenda informed her. “Now I know why you didn’t let me come over and it makes me sick to my stomach. Sick to my damned stomach.”

“We should help Mom and Brian,” I murmured to Boone.

Angelica whirled again to me.

“You’re not stepping one foot in my goddamned house.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Boone murmured to me.

“You won’t. You’ll go in and help pack up my babies so this scene can be done for them and they can be at home with their father,” Brenda decreed.

Angelica was whirling again. “He’s a drunk, Mom.”

“He’s not. Not at this moment. He called me weeks ago to get Bob’s number and Bob tells me he’s doing the work.”

Who was Bob?

“So he’s a drunk hanging out with drunks,” Angelica derided.

“You know better than that. Bob’s been sober for nine years,” Brenda returned.

Oh.

All right.

I didn’t know Bob.

I just knew Bob got Brian to a meeting.

So I really liked Bob.

Boone took my hand and we skirted the dueling pair.

There was no hope Angelica would miss it.

And she didn’t.

“Right, there she goes. She took everything else from me, now she’s going to take my kids.”

“You know, Ang,” Brenda began, “the sad part of this, the part that breaks my heart, the part that just kills me, is that it took your man nearly killing himself, and definitely losing his kids, to snap out of it. But you? Brian’s going to take those kids from this house, he’s going to get his act together, he’s going to father those children, and you are going to spend your time convincing yourself how everyone done you wrong, until you’re certain you’re right, and then you’re still not going to be a good mother. Or maybe even a decent person. You’re going to book a massage.”

Ouch.

Boone pulled me in the house.

Once in, I let his hand go and made a beeline to Portia’s room.

I got to the door, and I stopped.

Her dad was folding clothes into a little pink suitcase.

She was shoving stuffed animals in a garbage bag.

Apparently, Mom was with Jethro packing his stuff.

Portia looked to me and it was good she melted when my eyes filled with tears because she was so scary skinny.

“C’mere, baby,” I whispered.

She dumped her stuffed animals and raced to me.

I crouched down and caught her in my arms, then fell to my ass when hers went around me.

Her delicate body racked with a sob.

Mine returned the gesture.

“Don’t go away again, Auntie Rynnie,” she bawled into my neck.

“I won’t, honey.”

“Promise.”

“Swear.”

She held tighter.

I didn’t let her go.

Boone asked, “What can I do, bud?”

“Finish her stuffed animals?” Brian requested.

“On it,” Boone said.

I kept Portia close and got a lock on my tears before she did hers.

And I held her in my lap after she’d wound down to sniffles.

I continued to hold her in my lap as she peeked out from under spiky-wet lashes and whispered, “Your new boyfriend is really cute.”

Boone was in profile, now helping Brian stuff clothes into a different garbage bag.

I still saw his lips twitch.

“That he is, my girl, that he is,” I agreed.

She rested her head on my shoulder, and after a beat, asked, “After we drop our stuff at Daddy’s, can we still go get ice cream?”

To this question, from two different male mouths, she got two very firm answers of “Absolutely.”