I'm In It (The Reed Brothers Book 18) Page 9

  I start a bath for the kids, because my sisters’ kids always calm down when there’s water. I still can’t figure that one out, but it works.

  “Is there anything special I can get for you?” Mick asks me.

  “I’ve been stuck in a car with four children and you for about forty-eight hours. If you don’t come back with ice cream, don’t come back at all.” I shoot him a heated glance.

  “Did I ever say thank you for doing this for me?” he asks quietly, staring down at me.

  “You can thank me with ice cream,” I shoot back, and then I go into the bathroom with Anna and the babies so I can wash Anna’s hair.

  “Anything else?” he calls out.

  I stick my head back out the door and glance toward the double bed I assume we’ll be sharing. The kids will be in the other bedroom, and the two portable cribs will go in the sitting area. I look at him and look toward the bed again. “Anything else you think we might need, you should get,” I say.

  Then I go into the bathroom and wait until I hear the door of the hotel room click shut. Then I let out the breath I’ve been holding almost since we got out of the car.

  Mick

  I’m walking around the grocery store, putting random items in the basket, when my phone rings. I drop some sugary cereal, the kind my mom never let me eat, into the basket and pull my phone from my pocket.

  I see Henry’s name on the screen, and it makes me smile. “Hey, Henry,” I say.

  Quiet greets me. I pull the phone back and look down. We’re still connected. “Henry?” I ask.

  “Mick?” he replies. “Is that you? I can’t figure out this damn smart phone that Faith got me. It just makes me feel stupid and does nothing to make me any smarter. But Faith said I needed it so she could send me pictures of my great-grandbabies. She sent me one the other day with one of her boys wearing a diaper and cowboy boots. He was hitched in the doorway like it was a saloon. It was pretty fucking fantastic, I’ll say. So I guess this stupid phone was worth it.”

  I laugh. “Henry, are you okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I just called Wren to check and see how your trip was going, but she couldn’t talk because the children were screaming in the background. So, I just pulled you up in this little address book thingie, and there you were. Like magic. So, how’s the trip going?”

  It’s shit, actually is on the tip of my tongue. “It’s…going okay.”

  “One thing you should know, young man, is that you don’t get to be my age without the ability to detect a lie. Now, tell me how it’s really going.”

  “I think I really dislike kids, Henry. Particularly when there are four of them and they won’t stop screaming in the car, or when they’re fighting with one another, or when they won’t stop picking on each other. Over nothing! It’s crazy.”

  Henry laughs. “My Nan used to say you couldn’t call yourself a parent until you’ve swung a flip-flop blindly into the back seat hoping to connect with a child.”

  I’ve seen pictures of Nan. I couldn’t imagine her swinging anything at anyone. Then I remember what it has been like for two days with four kids. I can totally see it.

  “Well, I’m not a parent. I’m just a guy who’s in over his head.”

  “You want some advice?” he asks.

  Like I could stop him. “Sure,” I say drolly.

  “Feed them, water them, and love them. The rest will settle down. Those kids don’t know up from down right now. They’re in a strange place with some strange people—no offense intended.”

  “None taken,” I mutter.

  “So just do your best. They’ll realize that it’s all you can do, and they might stop tormenting you. If not, just remember that you only have about twenty-five hundred more miles to go.”

  “Thanks, Henry,” I respond, although that really doesn’t help my current situation.

  “How are things going with Wren? She in love with you yet?”

  I stumble and drop the gallon of milk I’d picked up for breakfast, to go with the sugary cereal that’s terrible for them. I pick it up and put it in my cart. “Not even close,” I say.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, I put her in a car with four screaming children who aren’t ours, and then I made her drive until she was exhausted. Then I left her alone with them while I went out alone.”

  “It’s not like you’re at a titty bar. You’re at the grocery store, dummy.”

  “Still,” I say, “I had better get back.”

  I load up my cart with snack food, get baby formula, drinks for the cooler, and things to make sandwiches, and the whole time Henry is telling me about the strange character he met at work today. Henry’s the best storyteller I’ve ever met. I laugh in spite of my dire situation.

  “You done shopping yet?” Henry asks as I peruse the ice cream freezer.

  “Not yet. Wren wants ice cream, but I don’t know what kind’s her favorite.”

  “The blue container with the walnuts and the chocolate caramel sauce,” he says. “That’s her favorite.”

  Deep down, I feel like I should know these things.

  “You’re asking yourself why you don’t know this already, aren’t you?” Henry says.

  “Stop doing that, Henry. It freaks me out.”

  “You don’t know it because you haven’t spent years learning all this stuff. I can still remember when my Nan and I had been married about twenty years, and someone asked me what her favorite perfume was. I had no idea, even though I knew it was the same kind of perfume that got me all hot and bothered, if you know what I mean.”

  I grimace. “Unfortunately, I know exactly what you mean,” I say.

  “The lesson here is that even after twenty years together, there were still things I didn’t know. There were a lot of things I had to learn, even toward the end. So, don’t feel bad if you don’t know the little details yet. It doesn’t mean much, except that it’s good, because it means you want to know the little things. And it’s the little things that matter. The kind of song she sings in the shower…”

  “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” I think to myself.

  “How she likes her eggs…”

  I have no idea how she likes her eggs.

  “How many people would she kill for a piece of bacon.”

  All of them. That one I’m sure of. I turn my cart to get some precooked bacon for breakfast.

  “Marriage is about discovering all the little things, Mick. It’s part of the fun of it.”

  “Am I rushing things, Henry?” I ask. I shouldn’t, but I am.

  “There’s no such thing as rushing feelings of joy and happiness. We all seek those feelings, and when you find someone who brings you joy, you want to see more of her. Now, if you’re jumping into bed, that I’d be concerned about.”

  I say nothing. Because I’m standing in front of the condom section, since Wren glanced at the bed and then at me, and told me to get everything we needed.

  “Aw, hell,” Henry says. “You’re thinking about jumping into bed with her.”

  I heave a sigh. “I don’t think about much else, Henry.” Might as well be honest. “Did you feel that way about Nan?”

  “Only every day of my life, young man. So, don’t ever be ashamed of wanting to rip her clothes off and throw her on the floor.”

  “Henry!” I say, pretending to be appalled.

  “Just pick the right time, okay? It’s probably not the right time when you’re both tired, stressed, and you have four children sleeping on the other side of the room.”

  “You’re right.” Damn it.

  “Your time will come. I’m sure of it. Did you get the ice cream?”

  “Two containers.”

  “Overachiever,” he mutters.

  “I do try.”

  “You had better get back, before the little monsters tie Wren up and lock her in the closet. You’ll go back and find them playing Yahtzee with the homeless man across the street, betting O-shaped cereal and juice
boxes.”

  “You paint a stark picture, old man,” I say with a laugh.

  Henry goes quiet for a second. “Hey, Mick,” Henry says.

  “Yeah, Henry?”

  “I like you a lot, but if you hurt that girl, I’ll have no choice but to kick you in the balls.”

  “You can take a turn right after her dad gets done.”

  “True.” He heaves out a sigh. “She’s had enough heartache. She lost her parents, met a man who couldn’t love her, and lost a baby she could have loved fiercely. So, above all else, be a man she can trust.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And hurry back to the hotel. She just sent me a picture of the two oldest ones holding zip ties and scarves.”

  “She did not.”

  “Okay, she didn’t. But it was a funny picture in your head, right?”

  “Hilarious, Henry.”

  Henry coughs into the phone.

  “Henry, are you feeling all right? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  “Oh, you’ll know what it’s like when you get as old as me. Everything hurts, and nothing tastes right, but you keep on going as long as you can.”

  “Take some cough syrup for that cold. And go to the doctor if it doesn’t get any better.”

  “Hey, Mick?” Henry says casually.

  “Yeah, Henry?”

  “Go to hell. Right after you go back to the hotel with that girl’s ice cream.”

  I laugh. “Yes, sir. Good night.”

  “Sleep tight!” he replies. Then I hear him curse over the fact that he can’t figure out how to hang up the stupid phone.

  If I didn’t know better, I would say Henry’s on a mission to pave the way into Wren’s heart for me. I need all the help I can get.

  I pay for my groceries and go back to the hotel. When I open the door, I stop short. I can see Wren, asleep on one edge of the bed. The baby is asleep on her chest, Roxy is pressed against her side, and the other two are facing the foot of the bed, sound asleep.

  I put the groceries down and go to the bedroom. Wren blinks her eyes open.

  “What happened here?” I ask quietly, motioning to the kids.

  She shushes me. “Don’t wake them. If you do, they’ll start complaining.”

  “Did they eat?”

  “I fed them the last of the sandwiches your mom made, and they went right to sleep.”

  “I got you ice cream,” I whisper.

  “Can you free me from the mountain of children so I can enjoy it?”

  One by one, I take the kids and move them to their sleeping spots. Wren doesn’t move.

  I go and get her ice cream and a spoon, and take the top off the container. She takes it from me with a gleeful whimper. “You want some?”

  I catch her eyes with mine. “I sure do.” I waggle my brows at her.

  She grins. “Can I finish my ice cream first?”

  I scrub my hand across the top of her head as I go to the bathroom to take a shower. I’ve been cooped up in the car all day and I feel grimy.

  When I come out, the empty ice cream container is on the bedside table, and she’s sound asleep, sprawled across the center of the bed.

  I pull the covers out from under her and slide beneath them. She immediately rolls toward me and tucks her head beneath my chin. “This okay?” she asks on a yawn.

  Oh yes. It’s everything. Every fucking thing.

  Wren

  The sun is coming over the horizon when I hear the hushed whispers of children who are trying to be quiet in the other room. I blindly reach toward the other side of the bed where Mick was, but the sheets are cold and he’s gone. I get up, go brush my teeth and hair, and then I tiptoe toward the living room. Mick is holding Chase in his arms, giving him a bottle, and Roxy is next to him on the couch leaning on his arm, her chubby little thumb stuck between her lips. She’s watching TV as she dozes. Anna and Devon are at the tiny little kitchen table eating cereal.

  “Good morning,” I say to them as I walk by.

  They mutter something unintelligible in return.

  “Morning, sunshine,” I say to Mick as I walk past him, heading for the tiny little coffee pot that’s in the makeshift kitchen.

  “I think it’s still night,” he says, his voice scratchy and deep.

  I part the blinds while my coffee perks. “No, the sun’s coming up.”

  “And here I was hoping I could put them all back to bed. Dreams crushed. Thanks,” he says drolly.

  “I didn’t hear a thing last night. Did they all sleep?

  “Chase got up once.” He scrubs a hand down his face, trying to wake up.

  “That’s not too bad.” I take my coffee mug and put it on the coffee table in front of where he’s sitting.

  “Could have been worse, I guess.”

  I pick Roxy up and sit down with her in my lap. I lean against Mick’s arm. I’d like to think it’s just because it’s there, but it’s not. It’s because he’s big and warm and strong, and he makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. I rub my face against his upper arm.

  He looks down at me, his gaze warm and caring. “Come a little closer,” he says. “You feel nice.”

  I hitch myself a little higher and wrap my arm around his, burrowing into his side. “You feel nice, too,” I say quietly.

  “You make me want things,” he says quietly.

  “What kinds of things?” I reply. I look up at him and he stares down at me.

  “All things.”

  I laugh quietly, because I’m afraid the bubble of peace that’s surrounding us will burst if we’re too loud. “All things? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I just know I want them.”

  His comment settles low in my belly, in that place where dreams lie in wait, just hoping to be turned into butterflies in your belly and then heat in your guts.

  “I want them too,” I admit. Then I scrub my face against his upper arm so he won’t look at me and see how very much I want the same things.

  “Any chance you might want them with me?” he asks. An expectant silence falls over the room.

  “You’ll do,” I say with a playful shrug.

  He chuckles and adjusts Chase in his arms. He’s asleep, so Mick gets up and moves him back to his portable crib. Roxy is asleep in my arms, so I move her to a pillow on the other end of the couch and tuck her in nice and snug so she won’t roll off. Mick turns so that I can crawl into his lap, and then he adjusts me so that I’m leaning in his arms. He stares down at me, and brushes a lock of hair away from my lips.

  “You’re like smoke,” he says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes you’re heavy and thick, and I can see you right there in front of me. You look so solid until I try to grab hold, and then you’re gone.” He motions with his hands like I’m slipping through his fingers.

  “I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” I am. So sorry. He deserves so much better than me. He deserves the world. “Have you ever been in love?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Are you seriously asking me that question?”

  “What?” I ask, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Of course, I’m serious.”

  “You’re so smart, but sometimes I think you get in your own way, without even meaning to.”

  I try to sit up. “What does that mean?” He holds me tightly in his strong arms, not letting me retreat.

  “It means that for some reason, you can’t see what’s right in front of you. Why is that? Open your eyes, Wren.” He jostles me in his arms a little.

  I say nothing.

  “How did you meet Shane?” he asks.

  Shane is the father of the baby I lost. “He plays guitar for the band that used to open for us when we were on the road.”

  “Love at first sight?”

  I snort. “More like lust at first sight.”

  He grins. “So, it was like that.”

  “Very much so. He was charming and friendly and he
made me feel special. Until he didn’t.”

  “What did your parents think of him?”

  “Emilio hated him. Marta tolerated him. My sisters were ambivalent.” I shrug.

  “Did you love him?”

  I shake my head. “Looking back at it, I don’t think so. At the time, I thought I did, but it’s nothing like…” My face floods with heat and I let the sentence trail off.

  “Nothing like what?” he asks, his face intent.

  “Nothing like…this.”

  He stares down at me. “What’s this?”

  This whole conversation has been taking place in whispers, which makes it feel so intimate that it almost hurts. The hairs on my arms stand up.

  “This.” I motion from him to me and back. “It didn’t feel like this.”

  “Tell me what this feels like to you.”

  “Like a slow burn. Like a campfire that’s just been lit. Like a lighter that’s just waiting to become a torch. Like… I don’t know. I can’t explain it. With Shane, it was instant attraction and then it was gone. We kept on doing what we did because it was what we knew, but not necessarily what we wanted.”

  “What did you want?”

  “That’s just it. I’m not sure. I want what my parents had. What Emilio and Marta have. What my sisters have with their husbands. But I also want my own story. I don’t want to get swept up in something bigger than me. I’m afraid I’ll get lost.” I wince, and I realize I said all that without looking at him. I finally meet his eyes. “What do you want?” I whisper.

  “You,” he says, and he runs the tip of his nose down the side of mine. He kisses the corner of my lips. “Just you.” He lifts my legs so he can slip out from under me. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I nod and reach for my coffee, which has grown tepid. I listen for the shower to turn on, and then I settle Anna and Devon in front of a movie. I tiptoe toward the bathroom and debate with myself about what I should do. I lock the bedroom door and take off all my clothes. Then I quietly open the bathroom door and slip inside. My heart is in my throat as I slide back the shower curtain.

  Mick is rinsing the soap from his hair when I step in behind him. He freezes, and his back muscles twitch when I lay my hand on his skin. “What are you doing?” he asks.