KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (26 page)

“I did when I was married.”

“Lie,” she accuses. “You loved your son, but not your wife. Any reaction you had was to him, not her.”

Turning my head, I stare into Deni’s dark blue eyes. They look serious, and a little sad. “I still miss him every day.”

“You loved him. He was your child,” she voices in understanding. “I get it.”

“Caleb,” I say his name out loud. It’s rare that I do, the pain of his memory always keeping me from it.

“Yeah,” she replies quietly on a sigh. “Caleb.”

“I never thought…” I start to try and explain to my sister how I feel, but she stops me.

“You never thought you’d find anyone worth it again?” she asks.

“Worth what?”

“The risk of caring,” she returns. “You haven’t talked about Caleb in at least three visits home, Mike, let alone saying his name in front of another living person.”

“I have,” I deny, knowing it’s a useless lie my sister sees through.

“Well,” she replies in a lighter tone. “I like Lucy, and I love she’s not intimidated by you.”

“There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

“Psh! Maybe not then, but now? She riles you. I like it. Even Mom noticed you’re different this time.”

“I’m not.”

She scoffs. “Before this visit, you came home distant, angry, and bitter. It wasn’t until you were here for a few days that you’d relax even just a little.”

I hate hearing her label me like that. I’ve kept myself distant, not wanting to dissect every detail of my feelings to others. I’ve been angry. And bitter… Well, feeling so distant and angry can
make
a person bitter.

“It’s been a long time since you smiled,” she tells me next. “And you smile when Lucy’s around.”

“She’s funny,” I remark to excuse my behavior. Giving Deni more background on Lucy, I advise, “She’s a single parent. She has a son back in New York.”

“Yet another reason why I like her.” Deni smiles. This figures, seeing as how Deni is in the same situation. “Have you met him?”

“Yes. He doesn’t look like Lucy.”

“How old is he?”

“Six.”

I listen to Deni as she takes in a breath. Mentally, she’s doing the same as I already have…comparing Dillon to Caleb.

“It didn’t hurt me, Den. Seeing him wasn’t like that. I don’t compare every kid to Caleb.”

Denise exhales her obvious relief, then questions, “Has Lucy ever been married?”

My hands run down my thighs as soon as I feel the heat from nerves take over. This is getting too close to the truth.

“Yes, for a short time. He died a few years ago.”

I should tell my sister, give her everything I have on Lucy. How our pasts intertwine. How I’ve been ensuring she’s taken care of. But more than anything, how I’ve grown to care about her as a person, not the widow of the man who had a pivotal role in ripping my life apart.

I don’t, though. I don’t need to because, knowing my sister, she already knows most of my feelings anyway.

“Her mother-in-law is trying to take her son away from her.”

“
What the fuck
?” my sister hisses so crassly, I feel the undeniable ire in her voice as I sit at her side. “Why would she do that?”

“She’s a bitch who blames Lucy for her son’s death.”

“Are you going to do anything about it?”

“Yes,” I tell her, deciding right then to have a talk with Lucy, whether she wants my involvement or not. “As of right now, Jane Gilroy’s on it.”

“Oh god,” Deni breathes. “She’s–”

Before she can insult Jane, I add to her statement, “The best woman for the job.”

Deni knows of Jane. During my phone calls home, I’ve mentioned the woman, but only that she’s been a pain in the ass from time to time. Deni’s a paralegal, so she’s dealt with women like Jane often.

She takes a breath. “Yeah, she’s probably the right choice.”

Changing the subject and wrapping this up, I tell her, “If it helps, I’ll have a word with Mom.”

“That’d be good. She needs to find another man to smother with her affections. Things between us were so much easier when she was married.”

“Mom still misses Dad,” I note. “She told me this morning she still has some of his clothes. She wants us to get rid of them.”

“She’s been saying that forever.”

“Maybe she means it this time.”

“I need space from her, Mike. I’m taking care of myself. I’ve been doing everything the doctor tells me and I’m okay. I just need her to stop…”

“Meddling?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows to somehow turn this back on her.

“I’m not meddling with you and Lucy.”

“Yet.”

“I won’t. But once you pull your head from your ass, I won’t be broken and sad when you two end up together.”

I sit, staring out into the yard, and give her statement its due merit. I like Lucy for me, too, but I’ve deceived her by not telling her everything there is to know.

Moving to stand, I position myself in front of Deni to ensure I have her attention. “Lucy’s staying here tonight. She promised Grace movies and a sleepover. Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, big brother.” My sister smiles up at me. “What do you need?”

“Mind your own business. Seriously, don’t be a meddler like Mom.”

She smiles again, wider this time. Her finger makes a cross against her chest in a bullshit promise. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I’ll talk to Mom. Just be good. And it’s probably not a bad idea if you start staying at your own place. I know Grace loves it here, but it’s not good for her or you, and it gives Mom the wrong impression.”

“I know. Thank you for coming. I needed the break.”

“So did I,” I mumble to myself and head to the front door.

“This part makes me really sad,” Grace says softly, burrowing further into Lucy’s side and pressing her face against her ribs. Lucy can’t be comfortable, but rather than push my niece away, she wraps her arm around her and rests her hand on her small back. “His mom’s gonna diiiiie.”

Lucy’s face is red and her eyes are swimming in tears. For the last ten minutes, I’ve been standing at Grace’s door, watching both of them fidget in reaction to what’s happening on TV. I know the story of
Bambi
, but even
my
chest aches as if I’m about to witness it for the first time.

After we got home from the park with Grace, I told Lucy I had some things I needed to do, and it included being on the phone. She didn’t miss my chastising sarcasm, daring her without words to challenge me. After being as close as I was to her all day, I decided we both required space, and she agreed to let me do whatever I needed.

“It’s coming, Grace,” I hear Lucy warn calmly just before the sad scene starts to play out. I watch as Grace’s body jerks in a soft sob, and Lucy pulls her closer into her side.

“Tell me when it’s over,” my niece demands. “I’m not looking.”

Lucy, finally sensing I’m near, swings her gaze to mine and her lips part with silent surprise. It’s then I note she looks tired, curious, and a little concerned as she takes in my appearance.

Movie
, she mouths, pointing to the television screen.

Ah
, I mouth back, walking to the bed and coming around to stand on her side of it.

Grace doesn’t look up, but senses I’m here. “I’m not looking. Bambi’s mama is about to diiiiie,” she stresses.

“I can see this, bear.” I smile as I look at her. Once I’m satisfied Grace won’t interrupt, I tell Lucy what I came to say. “I’m headed back to the hotel. I have a few things to do tonight.”

“Thought you were off today,” she counters. “Need any help?”

Her offer doesn’t surprise me, but I decline. “No.” Not wanting to leave, but knowing I should, I advise, “Have your sleepover. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

“Okay,” she whispers quietly.

Hearing her breathy response, my eyes focus on her and, in that second, there wouldn’t be anything that could force me to look away. I shouldn’t want to touch her, but hell if I can’t help wanting to now. After watching Lucy with Grace all day, being home and around my family, seeing how she fits, then talking to my sister, I’m suddenly not happy with the sleepover that’s planned. I want to take Lucy back with me.

Shit
.

Before forcing myself to leave, I stop near Grace’s side of the bed, take a seat, and move her hair from her face, which is still buried in Lucy’s side.

“Bear?” I gently prod. Her body shifts in my direction, so I lean down to kiss her forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Kiss Lucy, too!” she exclaims loudly.

Her obvious excitement causes me to turn my head to Lucy. Her eyes widen first, but then she offers a soft, knowing look.

“Kiss her goodnight, too!” Grace cheers again.

Smiling and looking down at my excited niece, I reply, “Lucy doesn’t want my kisses, bear.”

“Everyone wants your kisses,” she assures me, using her five-year-old claim as law.

I lift my head to Lucy and our gazes lock. I should walk out, leave this as what it is—a passing moment like all those before should’ve been.

But I won’t.

Leaning over Grace, I use the front of my fingers to wipe the stray tears off Lucy’s flushed cheek. She closes her eyes, accepting the gesture. My lips brush her cheek gently, and I inhale before moving in to kiss the other. My mouth gently grazes her forehead. Knowing I should pull back, I still don’t. I feel her breath on my face before I touch her lips with mine.

Having enough of that, Grace adjusts to peer over me before she explains, “We can’t see anything, Lucy. Uncle Mike, you gotta move so she can see.”

A familiar voice breaks through the room. “Oh, Gracie. I think Lucy can see all she needs to, honey,” Deni advises.

Hearing her voice, I quickly sit up and regretfully pull away, keeping my eyes on Lucy. She swallows hard and her face turns another shade of red. I offer a look of reassurance, but it’s not helping.

“Bedtime,” Deni calls. “Uncle Mike needs to go so the girls can have a sleepover.”

“Uncle Mike
should
go,” I whisper to Lucy and start to stand.

As I pass Deni, she leans in and hugs my side.

“Yeah. She sure does make you nuts,” she chastises.

“Cool it, Deni,” I murmur.

She smirks as I make my way out of the room. “Goodnight, big brother.”

Once I’m free to leave, I again realize I have no desire to go back to the hotel alone.

Lucy

“You don’t seem curious,” Denise observes with a smile as she soothingly rubs Grace’s back for comfort. Her daughter’s been asleep for over an hour, yet each time Deni stops rubbing, Grace fidgets.

Sitting up with our backs to Grace’s large headboard, Deni and I have been skimming through the late-night talk shows and discussing each celebrity’s life as if we know them—more importantly, how much we’d like to
be
them.

“Curious about what?”

“Michael,” she answers, still smiling. “You must know him pretty well if you don’t have anything important to ask his adorable little sister.”

“I really don’t know him,” I return honestly. “He keeps to himself.”

Other than our quick conversation yesterday, where I found out more than I ever have before, I really
don’t
know him.

“There’s a reason for that,” she informs.

“And what’s that?”

“His wife and son,” she says in a quiet breath, twirling a piece of Grace’s hair through her fingers.

Son
.

Michael told me last night he’d been married. He didn’t tell me he had a child born from that marriage, though.

“He has a son?” I question, fearing the answer, but having to know. Now that it’s out there, I can’t ignore it. “I didn’t know.”

“He died five years ago,” she voices with heavy regret. “It doesn’t surprise me he didn’t tell you.”

Even when I was spilling my truth about Gabe, Michael never mentioned he was a father. A small pang of what feels like betrayal flutters in my chest, but I dismiss it in order to hear more.

“He didn’t say anything.”

“He hasn’t talked about him in a long time. No one here brings him up much anymore. At least not when Michael’s around.”

“Will you tell me?” I plead. “I want to know.”

“It was a car accident,” she doesn’t hesitate in saying. “It wasn’t their driver’s fault.”