Show Me the Way (Fight for Me #1)(22)

Before I crossed a line I couldn’t cross.

I had one priority.

One focus.

A single reason to keep on the straight and narrow.

And that reason was currently hurtling down the walkway.

Brown hair flying and spirit soaring. Grin wide. As bright as the sun that blazed as it climbed the sky behind her.

The second I’d pulled my truck to the curb, she’d bolted out my mom’s front door, arms lifted over her head and that sweet voice riding the wind.

“Daddy!”

I hopped out of my truck and went straight for her, scooped her up, and tossed her into the air.

Let her laughter rain down around me. A drenching reminder of what I was living for. I caught her, hugging her close while she tightened her chubby arms around my neck in a death grip. “Daddy! Guess what?”

I pulled back a fraction so I could see her face. “What?”

“Grammy gots me paints, and I painted a tree and a mountain and a squirrel, and now I’m gonna be an artist and take paintin’ lessons and be the best dancer in the whole world and Wonder Woman when I goes to the gym with you.”

It was then that I spotted the thick smear of white paint across her cheek and the rainbow of splatters on her shirt.

I glanced at my mother, who was grinning like the Cheshire where she leaned against the doorjamb with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Now you’re going to be an artist, too, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Grammy said my picture was so, so pretty. You think I could sell it and get so much money and then I can buy a dog? Oh, Daddy, please, I wants a puppy so bad.”

I chuckled under my breath because it was the only thing I could do.

“I don’t think a puppy is a good idea right now, Frankie Leigh.”

“Oh, but, Daddy!” She stuck out her bottom lip before she grinned. “You wants to see my picture?”

I laughed. “Nothing I’d like better than to see that picture.”

Wasn’t lying last night. The child was a handful. A whirlwind that spun from one idea to the next without giving me time to process the first.

Sweet to the brim.

Most likely because all those dreams and ideas were gushing out from the inside.

I arched a brow at my mom as we approached. “So, we’re painting again?”

Taking the single step up to the door, I dropped a kiss to Mom’s cheek.

Her smile grew. “Oh, yes. We are definitely painting again. We had a blast, didn’t we, Frankie Leigh?”

“So, so, SO much fun. Can I spend the night here every night?”

I feigned offense. “And you’re going to leave your daddy all by his lonesome every night.”

Frankie’s horror was real. “Oh, no, Daddy. You can spends the night here, too. Right, Grammy?”

“Oh, Sweet Pea Frankie Leigh, I think your daddy might be too old for sleepovers. Unless he finally decides to start participating in the right kind. You know, of the adult variety.”

The last she mumbled under her breath, and the woman had the nerve to shoot me a wink.

Mom had just turned fifty-two and was about as pretty as they came. The years had been good to her, and her spirit was as free as Frankie’s.

“Sly, Ma. Real sly.”

She laughed. “Oh, everyone needs a little push in the right direction every now and again. Speaking of, how was last night?”

I shrugged. “Uneventful.”

That felt like a bold-faced lie.

But the last thing I needed to do was mention Rynna moving in across the street. Mom would hop on that so fast that I’d never hear the end of it.

I set Frankie back on her feet, scooting her in the direction of her room. “Go get your stuff, Sweet Pea.”

She took off down the hall, and I straightened and looked at my mom. Obviously, she was dying for any juicy details she could get.

“Met Ollie and Kale for a couple of drinks then called it a night,” I told her.

A long, restless night.

A pucker formed on Mom’s lips. “You’re no fun. Here I am, nice enough to have your daughter over for the entire night, and you don’t even do me the service of having a wild night on the town. You know I’ll be having one tonight.”

Amusement shook my head. “You really are a terrible influence. I think I’m going to have to rethink these sleepovers.”

She pressed a hand over her heart. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me.” It was purely a tease.

Everything about her softened. “How are my boys?”

A smile ticked up at the corner of my mouth. “Good. Kale has the weekend off, so I’m sure he’s off making up for any fun I’m not having. Ollie is . . . it was twelve years yesterday.”

A soft puff of air blew from her mouth. “Oh . . . I didn’t even realize. How is he doing?”

“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.