Games of the Heart (The 'Burg #4)(15)

I felt the tears clog my throat but I pushed an, “I am too,” through them before I leaned down, gave him a quick kiss and both Mike’s arms circled me.

I swallowed back the tears as Mike watched then he told me softly, “I’m good, right here, not goin’ anywhere, you need to get that shit out.”

“Thanks, babe, but I’ve been crying my eyes out for four days so I gave myself a limit. I cried when Mom and Dad met me at the airport. I cried when I saw Rhonda. I cried when I saw the boys. And I cried after my big rant when you got here. I’m only allowed three. I’m already over my quota.”

“I won’t tell, you won’t.” He was still talking softly as his arms tightened around me.

I dropped my head, stuffed my face in his neck and shoved my arms behind him to hold him like he was holding me. I did this saying my thanks to God for not only making Mike Haines a good guy but keeping him that way.

“Tell me about your kids,” I mumbled, not lifting my head.

Mike knew my game and because he was a good guy, he didn’t hesitate falling into it.

“No is sixteen, close to seventeen. He’s into music. He plays drums, guitar and keyboards. All self-taught. He’s good. He’s got a garage band and since he also plays basketball, he’s tall, a good-lookin’ kid and he’s good at basketball, most of the girls in high school think he’s the second coming. My phone at home rings off the f**kin’ hook so I quit answering it and don’t even bother listening to the voicemail messages because they’re all for No.”

“No?” I asked.

“No, Jonas. Until he was fifteen we called him his name. Then he declared himself No. He thinks it’s cool and refuses to answer to anything else. I think it’s whacked but it’s harmless so I do it. His mother finds it annoying, juvenile and laughable and refuses. She also finds every opportunity to tell him it’s annoying, juvenile and laughable. Luckily, he only has to spend four days a month with her so he can cope with being called his real name that long.”

“This is good,” I muttered. “But don’t you have two kids?”

When I said that, his arms tightened reflexively around me. This move spoke to me though I didn’t know what it was saying. So I lifted my head to look down at him and he didn’t manage to hide the uneasy shadow drifting through his eyes before I caught it.

“Mike?” I prompted.

“Clarisse. My daughter. She’ll be fifteen soon. She was Daddy’s Little Girl until last year. We were tight. All good. She’s entered a phase,” he explained.

“What phase?”

“Not sure,” he murmured then went on. “Secretive. Moody. She fights with her brother most of the time, her mother all the time and me some of the time.”

I knew all about that.

“What does her Mom say?” I asked.

“Audrey and I don’t speak. Her decree. I fought for and got full custody of the kids which meant child support disappeared. She’s struggling and blames me. So I don’t know what she says except through Reesee who informs me her mother’s a bitch. In those words.”

That didn’t sound good.

I stepped in. “Right then, quick education of knowing female to clueless male with teenage daughter. Secretive, moody and argumentative are gonna be your crosses to bear for a while, honey.”

He studied me and he did it closely. I knew what he was thinking and hoped he wouldn’t go there. It was a time I wasn’t proud of and he must have read me because he didn’t go there.

Instead, he asked, “How long of this sentence do I got?”

“She started her period?”

He flinched. I grinned.

Yeah, Daddy’s Little Girl all right. The idea of his baby becoming a woman was not something he liked to think about.

Then he answered, “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky, a year, maybe two. You’re not, you’re lookin’ at at least a nickel.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and my grin got bigger.

Then my grin faded and I whispered, “We snap out of it. Promise.”

His arms separated. One slid up my back. The other slid low on my hips. And they did this while he again studied me closely.

Then he nodded, getting me because he could see that I wasn’t who I used to be but he said quietly, “Hope you’re right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shook his head but stated, “I’m seein’ a lot of her Mom in her. This isn’t good. And I don’t know if I can draw out those demons or if it’s ingrained in her.”

“And those demons would be?” I prompted.

“She wants shit, lots of it. Shit I can’t afford. Shit she doesn’t need. And she’s not happy she can’t have it.”

I tipped my head to the side and suggested carefully, “Child of divorce?”

He shook his head, not in a “no” but in an “I don’t know” and replied, “We’ll see.”

I took one arm from around him, slid it up his chest, his neck to cup his cheek and I shared, “Mom, Dad, Darrin, my headspace was f**ked but they never gave up on me. I came out of it, they were there. Not long after, I realized they always were. I never forgot it and that meant the world to me. I don’t know, babe, I don’t have kids but my advice, just don’t give up on her.”