Lily went arms up and Teagan lifted her into a huge hug. Her daughter hugged her back, long and fiercely, as if finally allowed to be scared.
“I got you,” she whispered, and Lily rested her cheek on Teagan’s shoulder. “You were so brave today.”
And stoic. Always holding things close to her chest. Like mother like daughter—a comparison that made Teagan’s heart break. She knew how taxing it was to always put on a brave face. She didn’t want that for her daughter—it wasn’t the behavior she wanted to model. She wanted her girls to express themselves fully and completely, without apology.
An image of Harley flashed in her mind. Bold and fearless seven-year-old Harley, taking on Dale when, at the last minute, he canceled Teagan’s birthday trip to Disney World. Teagan never wanted to see him again but had been too afraid to hurt his feelings or make things harder on her mom after the ugly divorce.
So she’d remained silent.
Not her sister. It had been little Harley who’d given him hell for disappointing her sister, while Teagan sat silently, reassuring everyone she was okay when she so wasn’t.
It hadn’t been the first time he’d bailed at the eleventh hour, but it was the last summer Teagan had spent her court-appointed month with him and the last time she’d considered him her dad. She’d decided she’d do whatever it took to never feel insignificant again or like she wasn’t a priority.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she whispered. “Mommy missed you.”
She kissed Lily’s head and breathed in the scent of crayons and all things little girl. Lily pulled back for some butterfly kisses before squirming out of Teagan’s embrace. Once her little feet made contact with the floor, she was off, racing back to her sister’s side.
“Thank you for coming over,” she said to Colin gratefully. Then to Maddison, she said, “Thanks for babysitting again today and for calling your dad when you needed help.”
“Again?” he asked and Maddison’s gaze skittered to the enchiladas, guilt written in the way she held her body, hunched over as if trying to become small enough to disappear.
Oh boy, Colin had no idea about Maddison’s afterschool activities, and Teagan hadn’t told him. Granted, she hadn’t really seen him since the other day, but that was no excuse.
She’d left her girls with a sitter who had no permission to be there in the first place. What if her conscience hadn’t won out and Maddison had been more scared of getting in trouble than worried about protecting the girls? She knew Maddison hadn’t been honest with Colin before, yet Teagan hadn’t bothered to find out if she’d come clean.
That was on her. Not Harley. Not Maddison. Her. And wasn’t that a bitter pill to swallow?
“What happened to your over-dinner chat?” she asked Maddison.
Maddison gave one of her trademark shrugs. “Dad worked late so we didn’t have dinner that night.”
Colin didn’t like that answer, but Teagan couldn’t tell whether it was because of Maddison’s cover-up or that he’d come home late on a night his daughter wanted to talk to him.
He slipped the apron over his head, tying it around Lily. “You’re in charge,capisce?” Then he turned to Teagan, pointing to the back door. “Can I have a word with you?”
His expression was hard to read, but his body language spoke volumes. It reminded her of the way strangers looked at her when one of her kids acted up in the grocery store.
“He never uses one word when he’s mad,” Maddison warned. “And be careful that he doesn’t say ‘later.’ ‘Later’ sucks even worse than ‘words.’ ”
“Get used to it because you’re next, kiddo,” he said to Maddison, then led Teagan to the deck.
Teagan had to agree. She was pretty sure she was in trouble, and it was going to suck. Not that she blamed him. Based on his scrubs, he’d likely left work early to deal with an emergency Teagan should have handled.
Hand on the small of her back, and not in a nurturing way, he guided her through the back door and onto the deck.
He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. And up close she could see how tired he was, how the creases around his eyes were deep with exhaustion.
“I’m not the only one delirious with fatigue?” she asked.
“It’s been a day.” He crossed his arms, testing the seams of his shirt. “Hell, it’s been a week.”
“I’m sorry if I made it worse,” she said.
“You didn’t.” He paused, and she placed a silencing hand on his chest—which she may or may not have slid up and over his pec—and back again. But he had an amazing chest, and abs and all the muscles in between, which tempted smart women into doing stupid.
“You’re playing with fire, Bianchi.”
She didn’t move her hand. “What if I’m not afraid of a little heat?”
