Survivor (First to Fight #2)(8)
I guess a lot of things have changed.
A lady I don’t recognize clears her throat behind me, and I move out of her way, like a stranger in the place I used to call home. Familiar faces mill about the living areas, bringing trays of food to the kitchen counter. More dishes cover the dining room table. Someone had the forethought to bring dozens of plastic lawn chairs and most people sit outside balancing paper plates of baked chicken and a variety of casseroles.
Hovering in the office doorway, I clutch my purse in front of me like a shield to hide my shaking knees. Coming here at night was different. The shadows hid memories I’d much rather forget. Being here in the daylight only draws my mother’s absence to the forefront.
She would have loved having all these people over. She adored house parties and entertaining. Holidays were a big deal in our house. Any excuse to break out her wedding china and make an elaborate meal, really. Food was the way she expressed her love. And my mom had a lot of love to give.
Fingers brush against my arm and I look down to find a masculine hand cupping my elbow. I follow the arm to a bare throat, where a dress shirt has been unbuttoned, a tie hanging limply on either side of the lapel. Without my heels, he’d dwarf me, and even though I’m wearing my tallest ones, my eyes are only level with his bare throat.
Jack tugs at my elbow and I go without complaint, feeling pleasantly numb. He leads me past the throngs of mourners and up the stairs to one of the spare rooms we used for relatives when they stayed over for the holidays. I follow him inside and he closes the door behind us.
The sheets and comforter on the bed are mussed and there’s an open suitcase with men’s clothes in it. “You’re staying here?” I ask dumbly.
He tugs his suit jacket all the way off and tosses it on the foot of the bed. His tie follows soon after. “Yeah. What did you think I was doing the other day?”
“Anything to piss me off,” I say, but it lacks heat. My libido is too distracted by him undressing in front of me.
He ignores that and says, “I promised your mother I’d look after the boys and get this place cleaned up to sell.”
And of course, I just happened to break in one of the nights he was staying here. “She always liked you,” I say softly.
He leans against the dresser and crosses his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest. “I’m glad you came today.”
I turn away, walking to the window to look down at the people milling about in the yard. “Can we not do this?”
He sighs. “Right. The boys are in Rafe’s room. They weren’t up to seeing all the people and I figured you guys would probably like the privacy.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do here.” I want to give in to the need to curl up to his heat, his comfort, but I hug my arms around my waist instead.
“You don’t have to do anything, just talk to them. It really is the least you can do.”
“They’re not going to want to talk to me,” I hedge.
His sigh wreaking of disappointment fills the room. “Stop stalling.”
Might as well get it over with, then, because Jack’s implacable responses are no help whatsoever. The short walk down the hall feels like it takes an eternity. I reach Rafe’s door and knock. “Come in,” one of them shouts from the other side.
Not wanting to betray my reluctance, I boldly step through. Two identical looking boys swivel their necks in our direction and I freeze in their familiar gaze.
Both of their faces look like little miniatures of our father. Even more so now that they’ve grown and matured. My heart beats double time in my chest.
I swallow my fear and worry back and offer Rafe and Donnie a small smile. “Hey, guys,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Long time no see.”
Rafe sneers and continues playing his handheld video game, but Donnie returns the smile with one of his own, though he looks back and forth between me and Rafe.
“You guys chat for a bit,” Jack says. “I’m gonna go check on the food. Behave.” He directs a hard look at the boys before slipping out the door and leaving me alone with them.
The moment he leaves Rafe turns to his brother. “You dipshit, that’s my 3DS.” Rafe stalks across the room and snatches the handheld from Donnie’s stunned hands.
“Dude, that’s mine!” Donnie sputters.
Rafe ignores Donnie’s protests and stuffs the 3DS in his backpack, then turns back defiantly.
Donnie’s mouth opens and closes and his cheeks turn red. When his eyes gloss over with tears, I look away, feeling a shame burn on my own face. Like a peeping tom who has no business interfering. My eyes fall to the floor and I spot another 3DS tucked halfway under an unmade bed. My eyes shift to the two boys having a stare-down and then back at the 3DS.
I get to my knees and fish it out from under the bed and wave it around. “Is this one of yours?” I ask them. Petulant faces turn to me, both affecting a look of shock at my presence, as if they’d already forgotten I was there. I smother the responding hurt underneath a shaky smile.
Donnie wipes his nose and glances away, but Rafe snatches the 3DS from my hands and gives it to Donnie, both having suddenly forgotten their tiff to focus their irritation on me. Great.
“Who asked you?” Rafe says, then brushes by me. If he had shoulder checked me I wouldn’t be surprised, but he doesn’t, he just strolls down the hallway and out of sight.