Soaring (Magdalene #2)(72)

Check.

“Those pellets can hit more than your eyes,” I told him.

“Won’t hurt, you got a helmet, or a vest, gloves, or pants,” he told me.

Helmet.

Vest.

Gloves.

Pants.

Check.

“So it is clothes,” I teased.

“Whatever,” Cillian muttered.

“There you go. I have my mission,” I announced, straightening away from the couch. “Could wait to ask your dad if someone might want to go with me,” I offered that thinly veiled suggestion.

Cillian didn’t reply and that hurt. He was usually so talkative, enthusiastic, energetic.

Now he was slobbing out in front of the TV, sullen and crabby.

My children could be that way and they’d never had a mom or dad that did anything but love them, support them, give them all they needed and a good deal of what they wanted. Conrad and I might have behaved badly, they might have seen it, but we’d never missed anything important or made them feel unimportant.

Heck, I even went to all Auden’s wrestling matches and I disliked wrestling.

I knew two kids who needed a reality check.

I also knew that someone needed to find Rhiannon Donovan and shake some sense into her.

Since that could not be me, I could only find paintball gear.

Therefore I was going to do that.

“Okay, I’m off,” I declared and started Aisling’s way. “See you later, kiddos.”

Cillian didn’t say anything.

Aisling followed me to the door.

I stopped at it and asked quietly, “Do you know his sizes?”

She nodded and gave them to me.

I looked down the hall then to her. “Did his dad get him any of that stuff?”

“Dad faked him out with a bunch of new clothes for school. The new Xbox that’s really his present is still in Dad’s closet.”

That was cute and sweet.

“Right, blossom.” I tipped my head to the side. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she again answered too quickly.

“You ever wanna talk, I’m across the street,” I invited.

“Okay, Amy,” she said in a way I knew she’d never take me up on that.

I didn’t push it. Maybe one day I’d have a chance, and looking at her pretty face, I hoped that day would come.

I just said, “Okay, Aisling.”

I opened the door and was through it when she called, “Amy.”

I turned to her. “Yes, honey?”

“Are you…is that…?” Her eyes slid away then to my house where she kept them as she finished, “That Bradley guy you were with seemed nice.”

“I broke up with him last night, Ash.”

Her gaze cut to me.

I shrugged, going for casually. “We just didn’t click.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t,” I told her quietly.

“Yeah.”

She wanted me with her dad.

I liked that. It felt nice.

And it was scary.

“I’m going out paintball gear shopping,” I told her. “I’ll see you later?”

She nodded.

“’Bye, sweets.”

“’Bye, Amy.”

I turned and walked to my house. When I got there, I went to my laptop and looked up where I could find paintball gear. The closest place was at a shop in a bigger town that was forty-five minutes away.

I headed there, stocked up with everything the clerks told me any paintball aficionado would need or even want and stopped by a Target on the way home to get a card and gift wrapping.

When I got home, I wrapped the gifts and took them over, handing them off to Aisling but not bothering Cillian again.

She gave me a small grin and thanked me.

I gave her a big smile and went home.

Through this, Boston Stone called again.

But Mickey did not call me.

* * * * *

It was late and I was on a stool at my bar with a glass of wine and my laptop.

And Mickey still had not called me.

It was a struggle. It made me feel selfish to an extreme. I had no idea what effort you had to put into dealing with kids who were dealing with the ugly fact their mother was an alcoholic, but I suspected that took a lot of effort.

It still hurt that after all that had happened, after that kiss, Mickey hadn’t found time in his day even to text me.

I sent an update, how’s-it-going email to my parents, who had not replied or phoned since my last email, but I couldn’t let that bother me.

It was what it was. They were who they were. I couldn’t change them and I wasn’t going to allow them to change me. Not anymore.

So whatever would be with that would just have to be.

I was trolling Internet sites, trying to get a lock on or even an idea of the perfect dining room table when my phone sounded.

I snatched it up then pulled up the texts excitedly to read an out of the blue text from my son.

Heads up, Pip tried out for the cheerleading squad. She didn’t make it. She isn’t happy.

I was elated to have news about my kids. I was beside myself my son had shared this with me without anything from me prompting him to do so.