At Peace (The ‘Burg #2)(102)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I didn’t speak because what could I say?

“Will we meet him when we’re there?”

No they would not.

“He’s out of town a lot,” I told her, hoping he would be and willing to buy him a ticket to Timbuktu, drug him and put him on a plane if he wasn’t.

“How does he look after you and the girls if he’s out of town?” she asked, her voice rising a bit, she was getting scared.

“There’s a guy across the street, a cop, a lot like Tim, good man. They take turns looking out for us,” I assured her.

“That’s good,” she replied, her voice settling.

The man with the carpet had disappeared into Joe’s house but I saw an SUV on the street, I focused on it and my breath caught in my throat.

Mike.

“Bea, I think I have to go,” I said into the phone, not wanting to, wanting to talk to her. I hadn’t had a good talk with my mother-in-law in ages and now, with Sam dying, it was the kind of time she was at her best. She might be timid and sensitive, but she was a great mother-in-law, a better Mom, a stellar Grandma and a good friend.

“That’s okay,” she told me. “We’ll make a reservation in that hotel by the highway.”

“You can stay here, have Kate’s bed,” I told her as I watched Mike pull into my drive. “She’ll bunk with Keira.”

“Oh, we couldn’t.”

“You did when you were here before.”

She was silent while I watched Mike get out of his car, his eyes on my house and then I felt that sock in my gut when I saw he was angry, very, very angry.

Then Bea said silently in my ear, “That was before Joe.”

I blinked, unable to keep track of Mike, Mike being inexplicably angry, Joe’s carpet removal, Joe’s truck in his drive and Bea.

“What?” I asked.

“He might not like –”

“You’re stayin’ here.”

“We’ll wait to meet Joe.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“That’s not what Pam says.”

“But –”

Mike was walking to the front door and my heart was skipping a beat.

“I’ll make him my chocolate cream pie, win him over,” Bea decided.

Yeah, like chocolate cream pie could win Joe over. My cupcakes, pancakes and risotto hadn’t made a dent in his armor. Bea’s chocolate cream pie was the bomb but Joe Callahan was unwinnable.

“Bea –”

My doorbell rang and it sounded loud, louder than it ever sounded, too loud and I jumped.

“You’ve gotta go,” Bea told me.

“I –”

“See you soon, honey.”

I was walking to the door as I said, “Bea –”

“Give my babies squeezes.”

I sighed then I hit the alarm code in the panel by the door.

“Give Dad a squeeze.”

“Of course, honey. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hit the button on the phone for off, unlocked the door and opened it to face my next drama.

And drama it was, for I’d forgotten I was wearing Joe’s shirt.

This was bad, I knew it because Mike’s eyes went from top to toe and his face went from angry to enraged.

“Mike –”

He cut me off too, by putting his hand in my belly, pushing me into the house, keeping his hand there even after he stepped in and closed the door.

Then he dropped his hand and stared down at me.

“Mike –”

I cut myself off when his hand came up, palm out and facing me and I waited. He dropped his hand, looked away and a muscle in his jaw jerked.

Then he looked back at me.

“Been patient,” he said softly, I opened my mouth to speak, he shook his head and I closed my mouth. “Please tell me, while you been draggin’ me along, you didn’t start f**kin’ him again.”

“I wasn’t dragging you along,” I whispered.

“Yeah, sweetheart, you were.”

I always liked it when he called me sweetheart but the way he did it then, I didn’t like.

“No, Mike, I wasn’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’ve been honest with you.”

“You f**kin’ him again?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” I answered.

“Why you wearin’ his shirt?”

I considered lying, telling him it was Tim’s but Mike and I weren’t about that and, I pulled this through, I didn’t want to do it by making us about that.

“It’s comfortable.” At least this was true.

“He take you to the funeral?” Mike asked and how he knew that I didn’t know.

I nodded. “Only because Kate asked him to.”

“You wouldn’t let me do it, but you let him?”

“Mike, Kate asked him to.”

“And I asked you to let me do it.”

“Honestly,” I whispered, beginning to lose it, beginning to wonder why I cared, beginning to wonder why I f**king got out of bed at the same time throwing the phone on the couch. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

“I know life’s shit for you now, Violet, but serious to God, this shit is f**ked.”

“What shit?” I asked.

“You bein’ with me but him takin’ you to the funeral and him leavin’ your house the morning after.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“Tina Blackstone stopped by the Station, felt the boys needed donuts, even though the bitch has never done that before in her f**kin’ life. Brought three dozen of them from Hilligoss, stayed while the boys ate, ran her mouth, enjoyed doin’ it.”

That bitch!

I stared at Mike a minute, allowing my blood pressure to drop.

Then, deciding to deal with Tina later, I affirmed, “He spent the night.”

“But he didn’t f**k you?”

“No, Mike,” I told him, losing patience, it was slipping away and it was doing it fast, “he didn’t f**k me. Kate’s attached to him, she asked him to spend the night. She’s feelin’ a bit unsafe, seein’ as her father and uncle have been murdered by the man who’s stalking me. So we got home in the middle of the night and she wanted him to stay. He did. This morning he made sure the girls got off safe with Dane and his folks and he left. I didn’t even get out of bed. I didn’t even say good-bye to my babies.”

My voice was choked when I finished speaking and Mike’s face changed, the anger ebbed out, gentleness swept in and he took a step forward.