B008DKAYYQ EBOK (9 page)

Austin glanced from Bailey to Cole and back again, baffled. “You’re fam-what?”

She forced a smile. “He meant to say I’m hungry. Sometimes he uses big words where little ones will do just fine. That’s called pompous.”

While Cole smirked, apparently amused by her jibe rather than offended, Austin brightened. “Hey, I had some Froot Loops. Want some?” He took off for the kitchen.

Perfect, Bailey thought. That would make for a quick and easy breakfast, ensuring Cole would be out of here sooner rather than later. “That sounds great—”

“She needs something more substantial than that.” Cole smoothly cut her off and followed Austin as if they were on a big adventure. “What about eggs? You got eggs?”

Austin pulled open the refrigerator and peered inside. “We got Coke, pickles, ketchup, mustard.” He peered up at Cole. “I hate mustard. Let’s don’t make anything with that, okay?”

Chuckling, Cole ruffled his hair. “You got it.”
 

Bailey paused at the threshold into the kitchen, appalled to see dirty dishes piled in the sink and spread across the countertops. A plastic milk jug with an inch of milk in the bottom sat on the counter, probably left there after Austin had helped himself to a bowl of cereal. She carefully checked her expression, suppressing her building fury, as she lowered herself to a creaky, ladder-back chair.
 

Austin stared into the off-white fridge. “Um.”

“How about peanut butter?” Cole asked. “I bet you’ve got that.”

“You don’t have to do this, Cole,” she said. “I can feed myself.”

Austin nodded. “She can. I’ve seen her do it a lot.”

Cole let out a laugh, surprisingly loud and full, as Austin seized a chair and slid it across the floor to rest flush against the cabinets next to the refrigerator. Clambering onto the seat, he whipped open the nearest cupboard door. “You know what’s really good?”
 

“What?” Cole asked.
 

Bailey noticed he’d positioned himself so that he could catch Austin if he started to toppled off the chair. As much as she wanted him to go away, she was impressed by his interaction with her nephew. She figured he must have had plenty of practice with the kids she’d seen in the photos on his wall.
 

“Waffles with peanut butter,” Austin said. “Bailey loves that. We don’t have waffles here, but we used to eat that all the time when I lived with her.” He shot her a grin over his shoulder as he handed Cole a jar of peanut butter. “Remember, Bailey?” To Cole, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level. “She put chocolate chips on hers and pretended it wasn’t against the law.”

“That’s against the law?” Cole gave Bailey a shocked look.

She shrugged, resisting the urge to tell Austin to be quiet. She had never discouraged his chatter, and she wasn’t about to start now just because Cole might learn something potentially embarrassing. Besides, there wasn’t anything that could be worse than the lies that Daniel had told him.
 

“Yep. Somewhere.” Austin jumped off the chair and retrieved what was left of a loaf of bread from the nearly empty pantry. He paused to think. “Probably in Cuba. Lots of stuff is against the law in Cuba. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” Cole said as Austin began working the twisty tie on the bread bag. “How did you know that?”

Having won the struggle with the twisty tie, Austin plunged his hand into the bag and pulled out a piece of bread that he handed to Cole. “Sometimes,” he said, diving in for another slice, “these Cuban people show up out in the ocean in leaky boats and they have to be rescued. It’s because they ran away from home because everything is against the law there. Lots of stuff is against the law here, too. Dad is a lot meaner than Bailey.”

“How so?”

Bailey scooted her chair back and stood to open the refrigerator. “Does anyone besides me want orange juice?”

Austin made a sour face. “Yuck! You’re going to have orange juice with peanut butter? That’s gross.”

Cole arched a dark eyebrow at Bailey. “He’s right. It’s gross. And very likely against the law in Cuba.”

Letting the fridge door close, she forced a smile. Cole seemed to be over their earlier argument, and that was fine with her. She wanted to forget it and all the overstuffed baggage that went with it. She wanted to sit back down and just rest. But that wasn’t going to happen, not after seeing the refrigerator’s barren insides.

As casually as she could, she said, “I’m going to go wake up my brother while you two finish your analysis of Cuban law.”

* * *

Cole watched her go, wondering what had caused her growing, and shifting, tension. She’d relaxed when they’d come through the door, as if Austin’s hug had obliterated everything bad that had happened, including their disagreement. But, he reasoned, that could have been for the boy’s sake.
 

Austin thrust a butter knife into his hands. “You have to put on the peanut butter. I rip up the bread when I do it. Bailey says I go at it with too much gusto.”

Cole accepted the knife and began to spread peanut butter across a piece of bread. “Does Bailey like jelly on her sandwich?”

“Nope. Chocolate chips.”

“She’s quite the lawbreaker, isn’t she?”

Austin grinned. “Uh huh.” He gestured at the cabinet to Cole’s left. “They’re up there.”

After he’d retrieved the bag, Cole shook some into his palm. “You said you used to live with your Aunt Bailey?”

“Yep. For as long as I can remember. She was my mom for a long time. But she’s not my mom. My mom is dead. Then my dad came back, and everyone said I had to come live with him. I miss living with Bailey. She’s a lot more fun.” He paused as Cole carefully patted chocolate chips into the peanut butter spread across the bread. “She doesn’t yell at me.”

Cole winced inwardly. Poor kid. “Where was your dad?”

Austin shrugged. “He lived somewhere else. We visited him sometimes. You sure are slow at that.”
 

Cole looked into Austin’s expectant gaze and felt himself falling fast. Kids did that to him, starting with his own niece and nephew. Unguarded, uncomplicated and not the least bit judgmental. He loved that about kids. If he’d had his way, he would have had a slew of his own by now. But his ex-wife had had other ideas.
 

“Guess I’m out of practice,” he said.

“You have to practice?”

Cole grinned as he sawed the sandwich in half diagonally.

“You do that like Bailey,” Austin observed.

“Yeah?”

“She doesn’t like it when they’re cut straight across. She says that’s boring. But they both taste the same to me. Do you play Wii?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to try.”

Austin’s face lit up. “Want to right now?”

Cole pretended to consider his options. “I suppose I have some time.” He really didn’t, but he wasn’t about to take off without seeing Bailey eat her sandwich. Hanging out with Austin while he waited would be an excellent bonus.

Austin beamed. “Cool.”

Chapter 11

Bailey eased open the door to her brother’s bedroom and hesitated. James was sprawled face-down across the bed in gray gym shorts and a white T-shirt, as if he had fallen there drunk and stayed in one position all night.
 

The bedroom was as disordered as the rest of the apartment, dirty clothes dropped on the floor, the hamper in the corner overflowing. The air was stale despite the ceiling fan that revolved slowly above her head.
 

She berated herself for not stopping by for more than long enough to pick up Austin and go in the past month or so. James had been doing so well that it hadn’t occurred to her to check the state of the fridge or … God forbid, the bathrooms.
 

“Jamie?”

He didn’t rouse.

“Jamie,” she said more firmly. “Wake up.”

He groaned as he rolled heavily onto his back, his forearm across his eyes. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

“It’s time to wake up.” She picked her way across the debris to the window, where she opened the blinds. Harsh sunshine poured in, and she took a moment to focus on the lone palm tree outside her brother’s window. It looked as if its narrow trunk had been bent so often by hurricane-force winds that it could no longer snap straight again.
 

“What are you doing here?” James asked. “I was planning to come get you later.”

She turned to see that his eyes, green like hers, had opened to slits. The sun on his face made his skin look too white and the circles under his eyes too dark. “Cole brought me over. Did Austin ever go to bed last night?”

James pushed himself up on well-defined arms, working his tongue as if sand filled the inside of his mouth. A sheet crease bisected his cheek, looking like a scar. Though he was pale and tired, he didn’t look hung over or strung out.
 

“Of course he went to bed.”

“He looks like he never put on his jams.”

James ran a hand through his messy, dark blond hair and squinted at the clock. “What time did you say it is?”

“Jamie.” She couldn’t help but speak through her teeth. The urge to grab him by the front of the shirt and shake him almost took over.
 

He finally focused on her, and his eyes narrowed as they assessed her. “Are you okay?”
 

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am.”

“Your friend Cole told me what happened.”

She bit back the words –
he’s not my friend
– before she could say them. “It sounds worse than it was.”

“Still, I was worried about you.”

She gave him a small, weary smile. He was trying. He was always trying. “So what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”
 

“When was the last time you did dishes or took out the trash? Bought groceries?”

“I’ve been behind—”

“Austin needs a bath. When did you make him take a bath last?”

Groaning, James pushed off the bed and headed for the adjoining bathroom. “Here we go.”

She listened to him run water in the sink, heard the splash as he washed his face. God, she wanted a shower. A nap. A time machine. “You’re not taking care of him,” she said. “You’re not even taking care of yourself. What’s going on?”

“I told you. I got behind.”

“This isn’t behind. This is neglect.”

He appeared in the bathroom door, a towel in his hands, his eyes as hard and glittery as emeralds. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to go there.”

“You got drunk last night,” she said.

He turned his back again and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door open. “I drank a couple of beers.”

She went to the door. Her brother had lathered his face with shaving cream and was now angrily swiping a razor over the angles of his jaw.

“Are you allowed to do that? Drink beer?”

“I was in rehab for drugs, Bay, not booze.”

“They’re both addictive.”

His eyes clashed with hers in the mirror. “What do you want from me? I can’t be perfect all the time. I can’t be you, okay?”

“Jamie—”

“What?” He rounded on her so forcefully that she took a quick step back. He followed, his expression fierce, his eyes looking manic.
“What?”
 

She lifted her chin, determined not to let him intimidate her. “Keep it down.”

“Oh, so now it’s going to damage my kid beyond repair if he hears raised voices? You sheltered him, Bay. He’s a wuss now. Did you know that? Every little thing scares him.”

That last statement had the power to stop her heart. “What scared him?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Turning away, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face clean.

She fought for a more conciliatory tone. “James—”

He brushed by her to go to the dresser and jerk open a drawer.
 

“Jamie, please tell me what’s going on. You were doing so well.”

“Yeah, well, everyone slips sometimes, right?” He shot her a disgusted look as he tossed a clean T-shirt onto the bed. “Except you, of course. You’re never going to slip. You’re never going to know what it’s like.” He slammed the drawer with more force than necessary.

“You can tell me what it’s like. Just talk to me.”
 

“You sound like my freaking shrink. It’s pissing me off.”

“Okay, look.” She paused to let her temper cool. Getting mad wasn’t productive. He’d only get more defensive. “I’m going to take Austin to his grandparents’ for the next few days.”

He rounded on her as color raced up his neck. “Like hell you are. Then they’ll know I’m messing up.”

“How are you messing up?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not. Forget I said that.”

“If you need help—”

“I don’t need your help!” he shouted.